My Blurred Vision: Life at the Intersection of Theology, Music, Politics, and More

Sunday's Sermon: Is God a Good Investment? (Matthew 25:14-30)

Early last month I flew to Gunnison, Colorado so that I could attend the installation service for my seminary colleague and friend Brenda Brown.  I am a bit of a nervous flyer, and so I have a ritual when I fly.  First, I purchase a Sports Illustrated, a newspaper, and a Pepsi while waiting for the time for board the plane.  When we finally board I get settled quickly and then begin catching up on the daily news or dive into the Sports Illustrated—all in an effort to mostly ignore the flight attendants and their information about the seat cushion’s value as a flotation device.  On this particular trip however my plane was equipped with an expanded technology package which included television monitors and credit card slots on the back of each seat.  After looking through the free preview of channels I succumbed to the television offer for only 4.99 and was able to endlessly scan from one channel to the next as we flew at 35,000 feet toward Denver.  As I scanned the stations, the constantly rolling stations undoubtedly annoying the others who sat in my row, I found myself settling not on the stations playing movies, talking politics, or even analyzing the baseball playoffs, instead I rotated between the news stations that were locked into the latest in stock market news. I am sure you remember that the early part of October was marked by horrible downturns for all the stock market indices, and as the rivers and towns passed far below I found myself watching and listening as market commentators and speculators rambled with certainty about how the market had reached its bottom point.  Of course, 30 minutes later they were speaking the same words after the market’s next huge downward leap, but still I found myself held captive by the constantly updated horrors.  And so, as we landed in Denver I had spent the better part of 2 and1/2 hours watching the markets tumble, and I have to admit I was almost looking forward to the short plane ride that was necessary for me to conclude my travels to Gunnison…because I knew that my next plane would be an older plane that didn’t have the technology updates required to offer us television—and thus the constant access to the bad financial news that was holding my attention.

I tell you of my traveling adventures because our gospel lesson for today seemingly offers a great primer from Jesus concerning how we should invest our money. In this parable Jesus tells the story of 3 servants who are entrusted with varying sums of money while their master is away while traveling.  What may not be evident from an initial reading of this passage is just how huge the sums were that each was given.  A talent was equal to roughly 15 years wages by a laborer…so each of the servants was given a huge sum of money to steward in the absence of the master.  The parable details how the first servant turned 5 talents into 10 and upon returning the initial investment and his gains to the master thus finds himself lavished with praise and given more responsibilities.  The parable tells also of the second servant who was given 2 talents and returned with 4 talents for the master…and he likewise is given praise and finds himself with new and expanded responsibilities due to the joy of the master.  And finally, we hear about the servant who, when given one talent, chooses simply to bury it in the ground for safe keeping.  When he returns that single talent to the master he is deemed wicked and lazy and tossed from his master’s property. 

This passage is of course well known to many of us.  Perhaps what is less well known is the fact that in the time of Jesus, Rabbinic maxim told that it was a customary and accepted practice to bury money for safe-keeping.  So, and I am sure this will surprise no one, Jesus would have caused quite a stir in telling this parable because the one who followed the traditional and accepted practice was the one who was being chastised.  Imagine how the religious authorities of the day must have felt to have their practices scrutinized in such a way…

But as we hear this passage we are want to ask what exactly is going on here? Is Jesus really saying that the ones who leverage everything they have are more worthy of the kin-dom of God than those who are more risk averse?  Is Jesus really giving us investment advice?  Is Jesus really saying that we should throw caution into the wind?  I believe that the answer to all of these questions is of course ‘no.’  I would argue that this passage isn’t really about financial stewardship at all.  Instead, this is another one of those places where Jesus is relaying a story about common things so as to teach a greater lesson.  But what exactly is Jesus trying to teach?  And we will get there…

But before I get to exactly what I think Jesus IS trying to teach let me tell you a couple of ways that this passage is often read and why I think they miss the mark.  First, this passage is often read with the contemporary meaning of the word ‘talent’ in mind.  This reading allows us to hear this passage as an invitation to use our talents wisely and in ways that build up the master’s kingdom.  The master is of course God in this scenario and the sin of the servant who buried his talent is that he did not use his talent in constructive ways. This reading continues that the servant is then tossed out in a visible reminder that the stewardship of our gifts and talents is important to God and that we risk being alienated from God when we fail to use our talents to the best of our abilities.  Personally, I believe this message and I believe that the stewardship of our gifts is of deeply spiritual import, but that is a sermon for another day.  It is a sermon for another day because the Greek word that has been translated as ‘talent’ is specifically related to a unit of money, so while I think there is a spiritual lesson to be had concerning how we steward our abilities this is not where this passage leads.

A second way that this passage is used is of grater detriment to the gospel as a whole.  I have heard and indeed I read several commentaries this week that used this passage as a way of promising that if we are just faithful enough in our giving to God that our gifts will be returned to us at a level that is two or three times what we have risked.  The idea behind using this passage in such a way is to invite people to be risk-takers for their faith…but what too often comes through via this reading is the notion that if we trust in God enough to risk everything than we will be rewarded.  Suddenly it is not about the risk, but about the reward.  This reading offers something like this: If I risk it, if I pray about it, if I offer it up to God in genuine ways than God will give it back to me and I will have greater success, greater wealth, more friends, a bigger house…well, you get the message.  Let me be clear…this passage is not an invitation to a faith-based investment scheme.  This passage is not a promise that God wants us to be successful and wealthy…Jesus didn’t care about such things and to turn this passage into a promise of a holy wealth-generating and I believe to do so is to corrupt the gospel of Jesus Christ.

So, what is the message that Jesus is trying to tell in this passage?  First, I have to tell you that you didn’t get the whole reading.  This chapter in Matthew begins with these words:  “The Kingdom of heaven will be like this,” and from there it tells the parable of the 10 bridesmaids who stewarded their oil in more and less faithful ways, follows with today’s lesson, and includes concludes with the Jesus celebrating those who fed him when he was hungry or clothed him when he was naked or chastising those who failed to care for him when they saw him in need in their community.  Jesus, you see, in the entirety of this chapter speaking in cloak and dagger language about what is expected of those who follow him.  He is speaking about what it will be like when the kingdom of heaven comes…and he is desperately trying to make all who listen understand that much is expected of them.  So…he reaches not into a bag of tricks, but instead into a series of well-known cultural stories and he turns them on their ear.  Although the folks in the time of Jesus didn’t have the Financial News Network blaring at them 24 hours a day they did know something about the power of money and the power of commerce…so Jesus used it to teach them.  But it wasn’t really about the money.  Jesus was using the servants’ stewardship of their master’s resources to instruct all who heard about what God expected of them.  And in condemning the servant who merely buried the talent entrusted to him Jesus is condemning all who would not have faith enough to do something with the generosity of God.  The Australian scholar William Loader proffered the idea that the sin of the 1 talent servant was in not trusting the master (God) enough to do something with what he was entrusted with.  Loader notes that too often “people are afraid of losing or endangering God and so they seek to protect God from adventures, to resist attempts at radical inclusion that might, they fear, compromise God's purity and holiness. Protecting God is a variant of not trusting God.”  I wonder, “Is this what drives people to fear same-sex relationships?  Is this what drives people to fear the homeless and mentally ill?  Is this what drives us to fear truly opening our hearts and our minds to the things that God is calling us to do?” 

Ultimately this passage is about trusting in the one from whom all things come—in the one who has already invested in us.  Because this passage is couched in financial terms I will return to that realm as I close.  Our financial system is, to put it mildly, struggling, and for many this has brought fear and consternation, worry about the days that are soon to come and worry about the days that are far off in the distance.  I recently saw a cartoon that showed a couple meeting with their financial advisor and their financial advisor simply said, “Perhaps the best advice I can give you is to invest in a few more mattresses.” And while the worldwide financial situation might just lead us to stuff our savings in a mattress…our scripture lesson would remind us that we should not even consider stuffing God there also.  Instead, let me answer the question that I asked is asked in the sermon title:  Yes, God is a good investment—because the promise of God is revealed in the promise we can faithful say that we live immersed in the knowledge that God's mercy never ends.  If we can do that what we are really saying is that we believe in more than what we can see, or touch, or taste…that grace has capital, that love is rich, and that we are forever blessed.  Now the challenge that is before us is to live like we know it to be true.  That challenge meets us everyday…and I am thankful that God is there to walk with us as we go.  Amen.

A Sunday Sermon: Keeping Score

This week I used the gospel text (Matthew 18:21-35) as the text for the sermon.  This text includes the "Parable of the Unforgiving Servant" and includes Jesus instructing Peter that it is not enough to forgive 7 times, but that his followers should be willing to forgive seventy-seven times. Here is the basis for my manuscript from this morning:

Keeping Score

More than a dozen years ago ESPN, the cable sports network, started running updated scores from every conceivable sporting event across the bottom of the screen. This technological gift to sports junkies like me provided the ability to glance at the TV screen and find out the score to any game we cared about without really having to disconnect from what we were doing. ESPN called this revolutionary technology the “sports-ticker,” having modeled it of course on the stock-ticker that announces stock prices on the New York stock exchange. Although high-speed internet access has deemed the sports ticker a bit quaint, I must admit I rejoiced more than once at the brilliant sports-addled mind that created the sports ticker…because I am one of those people. I am one of those people who keeps always wants to know the score…of the Mariners game or any baseball game for that matter, most every Pac-10 football game, the first few days of the NCAA basketball tournament is sports heaven…well you get the picture. I have an obsessive, but mostly benign little habit that is enabled by the text scrolling across the bottom of the TV screen…it allows me to easily keep score.

Now, if keeping score was limited to being a bit obsessive about who won and who lost or to tracking the ups and downs of stock prices, well then I’m guessing matters of faith might never intersect with this technological gift to the sports obsessed, and then keeping the score would be irrelevant to anything Jesus ever said. But the truth is, in the lesson we read from Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is offering the parable of the unforgiving servant as a lesson for all of us who keep score. In this parable Jesus is responding to Peter’s question about the breadth of forgiveness—and when Jesus commands that a person should be forgiven “seventy-seven times,” (for those of you keeping score at home) he is sending a message to early church members and to contemporary readers alike—that in order to truly follow Jesus and understand the breadth and depth of God’s love and grace, we must be willing to put away the scorecards that we use to keep a running tally of those who have sinned against us and instead enter in to the grace-filled world that only exists if we take seriously the task of forgiveness.

Subtlety, you see, is not something that Jesus valued as a teacher. In this parable Jesus leaves no room for debate concerning how important he believes it is to be able to forgive. In this parable Jesus uses a discussion of financial debt as his teaching tool, but rather than reduce the equation to simple math like 1 + 1 he chooses to make his point with absurd quantities—for a talent was worth something around 6000 denarii—or about 6000 days worth of wages. And so in this parable we have the one who is at first forgiven for an amount equal to many thousands of days labor refusing to negotiate a compromise with the one who owes for about 100 days labor—a tiny fraction of what they have just been forgiven. And Jesus makes it clear that he believes a grave error in judgment has been made by the unforgiving servant as he tells of the unforgiving one being tortured for his failure to pass on and learn from the forgiveness that he has received. Jesus, with this very harsh reprisal, leaves no room in the kingdom for the one who fails to understand the meaning of forgiveness.

Now Peter and all those who heard Jesus teaching would have been well-versed in the Hebrew scriptures and in its calls toward forgiveness, but in the teachings of Jesus they were hearing something quite new. The Jewish community to whom Jesus was teaching would have known that the book of Amos commanded them to forgive someone three times for their transgressions, but Jesus it seems is not content to let the ordinary stand and that is why we hear this parable as an ancient ode to the ridiculous.

But what is interesting about this parable is that it is still quite ridiculous today, in the same way it always has been and in new ways also. First, the jarring use of the huge sums is no less ridiculous today than it was in the past. In fact when huge financial sums have become an abstraction when we live in an era when we talk about budgets reaching into billions and trillions of dollars, the idea of forgiving huge sums is still virtually unfathomable to believe, perhaps more so because we often aren’t in touch with what numbers really mean. Next, this passage violates our sensibilities with its talk of torture and the conclusion that the Heavenly Father likewise will torture those who do not forgive. Who is that God? Is that who I want to follow? I read that and I was immediately looking for the eject button…which reminds me of the way I often want to critique those who take a literalist approach to the bible. Jesus is speaking in ridiculous terms in order to teach a lesson and we cannot get lost in the words and forget the message. Jesus wants us all to know, in no uncertain terms, that offering forgiveness is central to God’s plan for us. But he knows something about us humans, namely, that we don’t often react until the situation seems grave and so Jesus offers the gravest of all possibilities so that he can guarantee that we are listening. Torture, in this case, is a torture of the mind and of the soul—and Jesus wants us to know that there is another way if only we follow him on the path of forgiveness.

Finally this passage is ridiculous in its attempts to draw a parallel line between forgiving a financial debt and offering forgiveness when someone as sinned against us. It’s ridiculous right? No one would see these as parallel, right? But wait, because rather than being ridiculous this is where this passage gets real, this is where it cuts to the heart of the matter. Think about words from the Lord’s Prayer—forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. Jesus uses the language of finance here—not because it was a convenient convention, but because it allows us to understand that forgiveness isn’t just an exchange of words, handshakes, or hugs. Forgiveness, in the way that Jesus teaches it is talked about in financial terms because true forgiveness has a cost—on both sides of the equation.  For the person who is tasked with seeking forgiveness the cost is in admitting the way they have caused damage to a relationship, there is a cost in admitting that they have harmed another. Without doubt, when we are the one who has caused a fracture in a relationship getting to the point of asking for forgiveness does in deed seem very costly.

But more importantly perhaps I would note that forgiveness is costly to the one who is asked to forgive also…we can see how difficult it is to bear that cost in our scripture lesson. Offering forgiveness to another is costly because it forces us to give up our sense of superiority, it forces us to let go of the hurt rather than using it to find strength in the midst of our anger, it forces us to see the humanity in another rather than merely seeing their failings. Offering forgiveness is costly because it is a completely counter-cultural thing to do…especially in the quantities that Jesus is talking about. Quite simply it is easier to stay angry and bitter than it is to offer forgiveness and that is why the call to forgive at a rate of seventy times seven is so ridiculous, so costly, and yet so very necessary—because it confirms that the grace and love that God has granted to us is not some cheap relic of our mind. Instead, the fact that forgiveness, such a foundational piece of our faith experience is so very costly and difficult…that is precisely how we know its value.

         So I wonder…what would it mean to live in a world where forgiveness was our baseline experience rather than something we had to be cajoled into living out?  Think about that for a moment—And now I invite you to look at the front of your bulletin, because I think the words written there offer us a picture of what that reality might look like—because forgiveness I think is the road to freedom. It is interesting that those words were chosen, because they were chosen with story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt in mind. Yet I believe that it is in a world where we take seriously Christ’s call to forgive not once or twice, not 2 dozen times, but seventy-seven times then that we might really find ourselves living free. We will find freedom not just from the lists of slights that we so often keep in our mind, but we will also find ourselves free from the list of our transgressions that haunt us and keep us from being whole.  This lesson provides for one of those moments where I believe we can say that there is new life offered in Christ.  For in this forgiveness equation that Jesus talks about in this parable we have the opportunity to find a way to unburden our souls so that we might truly walk down life’s road and experience all things anew. No more shall we worry about mis-speaking our intentions for we know that our errors will be forgiven. No more shall we fear re-connecting with that friend who was lost amid a disagreement, no more shall we be burdened by our misdeeds or by the misdeeds that are perpetrated upon us…because forgiveness will be our starting point rather than that long sought-after objective. What a nice place that would be to inhabit—don’t you agree?

So, let us return to the sports-ticker of our faith…let us return to the scorecards that tabulate both our guilt and those who feel guilty around us …and let us change how it is that we keep score. Let us join Jesus in the ridiculous ritual of forgiveness as we seek to tabulate not the transgressions, but the full measure of God’s grace that we can impart to one another. Imagine it…imagine a running scroll showing nothing but the names of people who have been offered forgiveness. That would truly be a score worth keeping!

Thanks be to God, Amen!

Last Sunday's Sermon: Challenging Scripture on A Tough Day

Not much in the way of posting for the last couple of weeks.  Here is a bit of an explanation and the sermon that was born last week.

Last Sunday we announced that my colleague Liz was going to be taking a leave of absence to be with her daughter Jessie while she is being treated for leukemia up in Seattle.  We also had a laundry list of pastoral care issues that we lifted up in prayer...folks dealing with grief, heart attacks, strokes, ovarian cancer, and mononucleosis.  The past two weeks have been the difficult weeks I have ever experienced in my short time in professional ministry and I say that knowing that I am not among those who are ill or most effected by the grief.  Sunday's worship was hard because we had to announce several of the illnesses for the first time and people were stunned.  Somehow I think my sermon connected with some of the struggle that we were all feeling.  For those who read this post I simply ask for prayers for our congregation, for my colleague Liz, her daughter Jessie, and for the others who are struggling with illness and grief (who I won't name because I haven't asked their permission!).

Here is my sermon, simply titled "If," which touches on the challenge and the call of wrestling with God:

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

Matthew 4:1-11

The First Sunday in Lent, Year A

“If” is a powerful word that interrupts the flow of things and casts doubt into a scenario or story.  The readings for today are filled with places where “if” might logically enter into the picture. What if the stories had ended differently?  What if Adam, Eve, the devil, Jesus, or even God had made different choices or asked for allegiance in different ways?  We know these texts well, but as I read them this week it seemed that there were layers in each of these stories that aren’t often confronted and these layers might just impede our ability to fully know God or be fully known by God.  And as we enter into Lent it seems that much of our journey centers on how to more fully know God so that we can be prepared for the joy of Easter.

 

Our texts take us into some interesting places—First, we have the Genesis text, which offers us the first example of sin in the bible.  This text has thus been used to paint all of humanity with the scarlet “S,” (not the Superman type either!) This one marks us all as sinners under the banner of Adam and Eve’s “original sin.” Adam and Eve fell and thus we are all fallen or so the theology goes… This week Adam, Eve, and the serpent are paired with the story of the temptation of Jesus and his hat-trick of scholarly and faithful responses to the devil that tempts him.  These are interesting texts which are appropriate on the first Sunday of the season of Lent when we are called to admit to and wrestle with our sins, but I would argue that these texts also spark some pretty interesting questions that begin as we insert one of the shortest words in our language…the word “if.”

As we explore our texts let’s begin with Genesis and the depiction of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Let me be perfectly honest here…this thing seems like a set-up .  I imagine God setting Adam and Eve amid a beautiful buffet of vegetation, amid a beautiful buffet of plants and animals, and as they walked around to inspect their new digs God notes that everything is theirs—well, almost everything.   “Don’t touch that tree—the one in the middle, the one that offers the knowledge of good and evil and is filled with beautiful fruit and placed at the center of your garden home.”  Now I’m not a literary critic, but you can see where this is going from a mile away.  My own parallel experience has played out more than I would like to admit when the waitperson says, “Don’t touch that plate, it is hot!” And of course, once they have turned their back there I am touching the plate to see exactly how hot it is.  So part of me wants to ask God for some kind of “fairness rule” here, because we all know, serpent or not, Adam and Eve were going to eat from that tree.  Which leads me to the whole “original sin” idea…if we all would all find ourselves eating from the tree…what is so original? 

Moving away from the tongue-in-cheek response, I know that Adam and Eve’s sin was in not listening to God and in not following the one command they had been given. But honestly, I struggle to understand how this one moment should have us all labeled as “fallen” and thus somehow doomed to sin.  Clearly we are called to follow the commands of God—I know that to be true.  But I wonder whether the rather hopeless position that Adam and Eve found themselves in doesn’t say as much about God as it says about humankind. I know that I will never have the totality of knowledge and experience possessed by God and I suspect that Adam and Eve knew this also.  Why then was it necessary for God to tempt them?  This may seem theologically irresponsible to say, but Adam and Eve’s punishment doesn’t seem to fit the crime.  And that is where I begin to wonder about how this story is told…because the God I know is equitable, is loving, is concerned with reconciliation, and in this story I struggle to find these things, yet I continue to hold to my belief that they are central to who God is. But if God is all that I claim God to be…then how does the set-up “fall” of Adam and Eve offer proof of God’s love, compassion, and grace?  If God really is love, and grace, and compassion, then why aren’t we all living in Eden? If we are really supposed to confront our own sins doesn’t the fractured relationship between Cain and Abel offer a more convincing depiction of sin than Adam and Eve’s choice of food?  Clearly God was with Adam and Eve even after their sin, but as I read this story I cannot help but find myself wondering what their sin really means!

The gospel reading likewise has me baffled, but in a different way.  Quite frankly I think our gospel reading provides a perfect answer for anyone who is struggling with how to understand the divinity of Jesus.  In my mind the story of the temptation proves that Jesus is divine, because if he was just an ordinary human I guarantee you that those rocks would have been turned into bread and I guarantee you the angels would have been forced to catch an ordinary human being. And I also know that someone would have placed a “sold” sign on all the real estate that could be seen from that hillside—because an ordinary person—this ordinary person included, would have eventually succumbed to the possibilities that the devil was offering.  And that is why I am not exactly sure how the temptation of Jesus is really all that instructive to me and to us.  Sometimes it seems that because the gospel writers seem so concerned with conveying that Jesus is the savior that there are times when the stories are just not that convincing.  This is one of those moments because temptation, especially the temptation to test God, is an all too familiar reality for humankind. But unfortunately this passage doesn’t seem to offer much to us mortals. This is frustrating because we are all accustomed to testing God and then we find ourselves living in fear of being voted off the island by our God…because we cannot match the perfection of Jesus and we know what happened to Adam and Eve.  And thus our sin becomes shame and our relationship with God becomes perilously fractured.

But we all ask the questions:  If God is love, what must I do to get God to listen or answer?  What if God isn’t generous and compassionate like we believe?  If I go too far with my questions and fears, will God still listen? God, if I do “x” will you answer in the way that I want?  These are the ‘cosmic bargains’ as I like to call them that we all attempt to make with God, but our desperation is compounded because in our questions we find ourselves living in fear and shame.  And thus the distance we feel between ourselves and God is multiplied and the stain of that original sin grows.  It becomes a nasty cycle of questioning and fear and drifting away because we are somehow convinced that we have left God.  And that is why our unwillingness to speak the language of sin is so dangerous—because it convinces us that we are not worthy when the truth is we are just as worthy of God’s love as any generation of followers has ever been. Humankind has always wrestled with God…and God has remained steadfast by our side, but too often that story is not told or remembered.

From the time of Adam and Eve we humans have been bargaining with God…sometimes it has been about what food we can eat, and other times our arguments have taken on a more personal tone.  Liz alluded to her own wrestling with God in the newsletter this week…and I recognized myself in some of her questions.   My wrestling and my screaming at God took place while I was in seminary (of all places).  It was there that God and I had a series of ongoing negotiation session that began after Shauna and I had a miscarriage during my first year in Berkeley.  I vividly remember standing on the shore of the San Francisco Bay and shouting to God that "I am seminary, we have moved away from our friends and family, what more can you want of me?" I remember the bitterness I felt when I was sure that, even with our sacrifices, God had abandoned us.  I remember the shame that I felt sitting in my New Testament class while trying to talk myself back into the faith that had been my rock for my entire life.  I remember wondering if God might be as angry at me as I was at God…and I remember hoping that somehow I would find my way to a time when I wasn’t tempted to turn my back on God…when I could find the strength to claim my faith and my God.  I wasn’t sure it was possible, and I would guess that for many of you there have been moments when faith moves from being a known quantity, and instead becomes contingent on an “if.”  If I can find it, if only I could see clearly, if I could be whole again…maybe then I could find my way to God.

But as we throw our questions and our “ifs” at God some ancient and traditional theologians would say that we just don’t have faith enough, that we don’t truly understand the nature of God, that we can’t grasp the true power of God when we insert an “if” into our understanding of God.  But I think this is garbage, theologically garbage maybe, but garbage nonetheless. Because I believe that to eliminate God from being susceptible to our questions and our doubts is to assume that God is less than who we know God to be.  Our questions don’t really impugn God…they are merely an avenue for the fullness of God to be more completely revealed.  Our attempts to bargain with God do not fracture some contract with God, but instead they illuminate the places where our relationship with God can grow.  I am convinced by God’s love that even in our moments of greatest doubt, even in our moments of gutless and faithless hypocrisy, and even in our most heated bargaining sessions with God—that God remains intimately connected to us in a way that cannot and will not be compromised by our humanity, and that is the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ that is beyond question.

As we enter into Lent it is vital then that we do not see the stories of sin or the perfection of Christ as a sign that we are somehow unworthy of God’s love and redemption.  The good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ is meant to free us—not just of our sins, but of all our fears.  But God can only free us if we are honest with God and we can only be honest with God if we put our questions out there.  So as we move into Lent, let us do so by taking an honest look at our sins and by honestly confronting God with our questions, our fears, and our doubts.  Let us not limit God by hiding who we are…God can take whatever we throw out there.  God’s love is not bound by our “ifs”—and thus we should not be bound by them either.  Open your hearts to God…pour out your questions, your anger, your indignity…and let God have it all.  God will redeem us and nothing will impede God’s grace…  Let our journey be an honest one.  I promise, God can handle it!

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

A Call to Creation Care: Of Water, Doves, and Other Sacramental Things

At First Congregational United Church of Christ in Corvallis we are in the midst of a month-long adult education series on Sustainability and Faith.  Our series began on January 6 as we explored the biblical mandate for care that comes from such places as Genesis 1, Leviticus 25, Psalm 8, John 3:16, and Revelation 21.  Last week Larry Thornton used a video called "The Blue Nuns Go Green" that focuses on sustainable ministry decisions made by the IHM sisters from Monroe, Michigan as an avenue to discuss how we make decisions.  This week my spouse/partner Shauna will present a session on planning for home energy savings, and our final session will have us look at options for living as a more sustainable congregation. I am excited about the engagement that is coming from the congregation on this issue and hopeful that this series and the work that will come out of it will lead our congregation to dedicate itself to undertaking long-term strategies that focus on sustainability as a faithful choice and even as a obligation of our faith. 

With all of this in mind my sermon last Sunday was focused on moving from the Gospel of Matthew's rendering of the baptism of Jesus to seeing the water, grains, and grapes used in our sacraments as a call to observe all that is sacramental about and around us.

"Of Water, Doves, and other Sacramental Things"

Psalm 8

Matthew 3:13-17

On the Sunday after Epiphany the lectionary speeds us away from the Magi’s adoration of the infant Jesus straight to John’s baptism of Jesus on the shore of the River Jordan. In Matthew’s rendering of the life of Jesus we are moved at whirlwind pace through the early years of his life—the magi’s visit in fact is the only childhood story we hear before we encounter Jesus by the river.  In this passage Matthew seems to highlight the sense that baptism is the critical beginning in the life and ministry of Jesus—and it is true, because in his baptism Jesus claims his ministry and God claims Jesus—and both the event and those involved are marked as sacred.
 
There is an interesting turn of events here as John both cedes his place and anoints his successor when he baptizes Jesus, but John seems strangely well-prepared for the moment.  Earlier verses in Matthew tell us that he has been busy telling the Sadducees and the Pharisees that “the kingdom of heaven is near” and “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”—so there is no drama or jealousy here.  CNN would be so disappointed!  Instead as Jesus emerges from the water he takes hold of the responsibilities of his ministry and we know it is right when the Spirit of God descends like a dove and the voice of God announces “This is my son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Now the scene is set:  God’s booming voice has called out from the heavens and Jesus is anointed.  Here stands the king—sure he is a little wet, but he is ready!

Now, for as much as this story is about Jesus, and it is—today I would like to say that it is also about creation, about God’s plan for creation, the baptism of Jesus is about being immersed, literally and figuratively, in the blessedness of all that God commands, and finally, and perhaps most importantly, the baptism of Jesus—that long ago event—is about us as contemporary people living amid all the sacramental things that God has created.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the word sacrament as “a Christian rite that is believed to have been ordained by Christ and held to be a means of divine grace or a sign or symbol of a spiritual reality.”  In this church we hold baptism and communion to be our sacraments.  Interestingly, both of these are deeply connected to God’s creative impulse, the same one beautifully described in the first creation story in Genesis and praised in the words we heard from Psalm 8.
 
The sacrament of baptism depends upon water and the sacrament of communion is a feast built upon the grains and fruits of the earth.  And thus, in our sacraments we are taken back to God separating the land and sea, to God creating the plants of the earth, and most importantly to God giving humankind the responsibility to care for it all.   So often we speak of our sacraments as “simple observances made up of simple things,” and while it may on the surface be true, the reality is that our sacraments and the sacramental elements employed in them aren’t simple at all.  Grains for our breads, grapes for juice, water for our baptismal font…these elements require care and on the Sunday when we celebrate the baptism of Jesus and when we have baptized MaryAnn Som using the sacramental waters that flow from the tap right here in our building, I believe we need to be reminded of all that this means.  Sacramental things are all about…they surround us…and they also ache for our care.

Let me give you an example…This past August there was a triathlon planned for Portland, Oregon.  The swimming portion of race was to take place in the Willamette River that bi-sects the city.  The race organizers had spent years planning for this race because it was to be in celebration of the work that was done by citizens and cities to clean up the Willamette over the last 40 years.  At one time the massive amounts of pollution in the Willamette River led to it being classified a “dead” waterway.  40 years of work has brought it back to life and the race organizers wanted to celebrate with hundreds of people swimming in the waters of the Willamette to start a race.  But then 3 days before the race came news that due to a computer error the city of Portland had accidentally released raw sewage into the river just upstream from where swimmers would enter the water.  The swimming portion of the race had to be cancelled, which drew renewed attention to the fragility of our waterways and the ease with which we can damage them. The Willamette River is no longer dead—but it still aches for our care, and it is every bit as sacramental as the Jordan was on the day when Jesus was baptized.  We want and need our sacraments, but our sacramental elements need someone to speak for them, to protect them, to nurture them. Imagine Jesus and John standing beside the shore of the Jordan…and discovering that it wasn’t safe for triathlons or baptisms either.
 
When Jesus was baptized Matthew notes that the voice of God said “This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Traditional theology tells us that this is an announcement of the divinity Jesus, of God’s pleasure that he has “answered the bell” if you will.  However, I want to say that I believe that every time someone is baptized, every time someone reconciles their life with God, every time someone decides “whoever I am I am now God’s” that God announces “This is my child, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  I believe this because I believe that each and every one of us is of God, that each and every one of us is divine in the way that God is surely pleased when we say “yes” to God—and God likewise says “yes” to us.  We are sacramental—that is, we are “a means of divine grace” and as we take up our place within this faith we are intimately connected to our creator God.  And thus taking care of one another, taking care of this local community that we call home, and taking care of this island Earth is exactly what we are called to do.  We cannot gather today and celebrate with the holy and sacramental waters of baptism—and then go out and poison gallons of water with our insecticides if we take seriously the idea that we are all at our essence sacramental.  We cannot use more than our fair share, we cannot make policies that ignore the needs of animals and those downstream if we are to say we truly value God’s gift that comes in the form of water.  The sacramental waters that sustain us…for baptism and for drinking must be clean, flowing with fish and other species, and available for all.  In the same way the lands where the grains and grapes grow to feed us for both our holy and our less-than-holy feasts, must be protected, they must be free of toxins, they must be used in careful, faithful, and just ways, and they must be loved as a sign of our love for the one who calls us “beloved.”

There is a great deal of energy and money currently be poured into research on climate change.  There is a great deal of passionate debate about how the United States might best address climate change and sustainability issues while balancing economic and political stability.  Many people are operating out of fear concerning the idea that humankind may be too late in addressing critical issues of fuel consumption, green-houses gases, CO2 emissions, and sustainable living.  I have absorbed a great deal of information from many different perspectives on these issues, and the way forward that I see, is one that combines diligent science with faithful living.  We need diligent science to give us the facts about the products we should use and those we should not.  We need science to give us the empirical data about weather patterns, global temperatures, and options for new cleaner energy.  We need diligent science to test our ideas, to reject our failures, to encourage our dreams of new ideas and new and better ways of living.  However, we also need faith and faithful living. We need faith and faithful living because there are no easy answers concerning how best to use our planet.  When God set Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden at least they were told “don’t eat from that tree.”  We, on the other hand, spend our time flailing about on this earth, creating new and better products, hoping to make life better…and often, there are unintended consequences that harm us and harm God’s creation.   But still…and this is the good news…I believe God repeatedly announces that we are God’s beloved children and we are taken in and loved even as we so often destroy what we have been given.  As faithful people we bring something important to the table where the conversation about caring for the earth is happening.  We bring proclamations of grace, hope, and love…and while these may seem trite or trivial I believe there is an immense need for our faithful voices in this conversation.  The baptism of Jesus marked a pivotal moment in the life of our faith…it was the moment when Jesus chose to immerse himself in the sacramental.  As people of faith…sustained by the grace, hope, and love of our faith tradition…we are called to come with our truths into this conversation and speak courageously for all that is sacramental—for all that is a sign or symbol of divine grace, for all that God has created!  And why, you ask, does naming the sacramental things matter in this conversation?  Because I dare you—to take a walk, to have a conversation with a neighbor or friend, to fill your grocery cart with produce, to take a deep breath, to look up at the stars…and not see that which is sacramental.  I simply believe it cannot be done…because everywhere you look is God’s creation demanding to be cared for. Perhaps we have waited too long, but today I ask you to say that we will not wait any longer.  Rise up, and come out of the sacramental waters of your baptism.  Let us join hearts, hands, and voices to care for this sacramental place given by our beloved creator God.  There is no better way to remember and celebrate our baptisms!

 

Thanks be to God for all the sacramental things that surround us!  Amen.   

A Sunday Sermon: Lessons from the Tree (Luke 19:1-10)

The story of Zacchaeus is one of those perfect bible stories that provides a lesson for people of all ages.  For children a message that can be lifted out of the story is that Jesus notices even the smallest people in the crowd.  Zacchaeus is a perfect character for children because he is almost cartoon-like as he climbs the tree hoping to get a view of Jesus as he parades down the street.  What child can’t identify with Zacchaeus’s desire to be close to the action?  And what child doesn’t like parades?  Although we don’t often experience standing room only crowds along the parade routes in Corvallis, children might recognize their experiences in the story as they remember their own efforts at pushing toward the curb as candy flies through the air during our community’s Fourth of July parade.  For children Zacchaeus is one of the—a short person trying anything to be in on the action. For the child in all of us the story of Zacchaeus elicits our own memories of being small, of trying desperately to see despite our stature, and of being loved and accepted even when we find ourselves hiding in the trees.  This children’s story tells us that God finds us, and that even when we have the worst seat at the parade, we will still get the candy…and it will be good!

But the story of Zacchaeus isn’t merely a story for children.  This story has several layers, much like the best children’s movies that include subtle jokes that only adults would understand, all in an effort to make them popular with parents as well as their children. This story too has layers that we can wander through.  First, there is the fact that Zacchaeus is described in two ways; as the “chief tax collector” and as being “rich”, and both of these monikers mean that he was despised by many in his time.  Because he was in the business of collecting taxes Zacchaeus was automatically placed in the category of the dishonest, and he would have had zero credibility within the culture.  It was a good thing he was rich, because without money he wouldn’t have had much in the eyes of the citizens.  He bought everything, probably up to and including his friends.  The subtlety of this part of the story grows as Zacchaeus climbs a sycamore (or more properly a sycomore) tree, which is a type of a fig tree, but one known for giving inferior fruit.  The fruit of the sycamore was often consumed and cultivated by the poor¹ and it is from that tree that Zacchaeus finds his opportunity to view Jesus.  It seems more than a little ironic that in his job as a tax collector Zacchaeus stole from the poor through dishonest collecting, but he must climb into “their tree” in order that he might see Jesus and experience grace.

This story seems very simple—seeing him in the tree Jesus calls out to Zacchaeus and announces that he will be staying with him that night.  But another layer of this story is the fact that when Jesus chose Zacchaeus he must have upset the crowd of people who had gathered around Jesus as he paraded through Jericho.  Imagine the slap in the face that many must have felt.  Jesus is supposed to celebrate the needs of the poor, he is supposed to call for a new understanding of wealth, and instead of inviting himself into the home of one of “average” people from the street, Jesus instead attaches himself to Zacchaeus, the tax collector. 

And this is precisely when this story begins to get really interesting.  Because after Jesus has called Zacchaeus out of the tree, Zacchaeus begins to stammer out explanation after explanation about all the good that he has been doing.  It is easy to think that this is a new event, but because both Greek verbs are in the present tense here and with no mention of a special repentance before Jesus², we must assume that Zacchaeus has already turned over a new leaf, if you will.  Evidently this tax collector has turned into a bit of a robin hood—he has reformed from his cheating ways and is currently giving back half of his possessions to the poor and paying back the ill-gotten gains of his tax collecting in a four-fold manner.  The response that we hear from Jesus as we end this story is telling—that Zacchaeus is no longer among the lost, but is now found and saved.  But what I find interesting is not that Zacchaeus was saved by his actions, but that he was saved all along—by grace.  Jesus couldn’t have known his story until Zacchaeus began to tell it, but even before he knew that Zacchaeus had repented from the dishonestly of his tax collecting ways, Jesus was going to his house.  Make no mistake about it, it is important that Zacchaeus repented, but it is not the crucial element in this story.  Instead, the crucial element in this story is that in Jesus’ act of inviting himself into Zacchaeus’ home he was exemplifying the radical nature of God’s grace—that it is completely surprising, that it is completely undeserved, and that it is life-changing.

 

I cannot think of the story of Zacchaeus without hearing the song of my childhood running through my head—“Zacchaeus was a wee little man and a wee little man was he.”  As an adult I really wonder if the notation in the story is really about his stature at all.  Instead I think noting that Zacchaeus was small is just a way of noting that he was like every one us feels a great deal of the time: small in relationship to God, small in relationship to the world shown in that iconic picture taken from space by the early astronauts, small in relationship to what is best for us—all because guilt and shame so often overwhelm us.  Surely, if anyone had reason to be consumed by guilt and shame it was Zacchaeus.  Afterall, he was giving away half of his possession after all, he must have done something to bring about such drastic action!  But Jesus would not let the guilt and shame of Zacchaeus’s past destroy the truth of who Zacchaeus was in the process of becoming.  And so, to announce to everyone that even the worst among them could be worthwhile and to paint a powerful picture of the promise of grace, Jesus called Zacchaeus out of the tree and invited himself into his house.  It was only then that Jesus began to know that Zacchaeus was already making amends for his sins.  Grace came first,  just like it always does, and that is the good and perhaps far too subtle news of the Zacchaeus story.

 

I only wish we knew what became of Zacchaeus after Jesus left his house.  I can only surmise that his life changed dramatically after the public announcement of his transformation, but we don’t know.  I think his life would have changed dramatically because the work of sharing his possessions would have had new meaning after his interaction with Jesus.  I suspect that Zacchaeus no longer gave out of shame or guilt, but instead with a spirit of joy.  The manner with which Jesus confronted the community and called this wealthy tax collector into the fold must have completely altered the way Zacchaeus existed in the world.  Grace should do precisely that.  Zacchaeus didn’t deserve what he got that day and that is a great deal of the message of Jesus—that we don’t deserve all that God gives to us, but we get it anyway! All that is left for us to do is figure out how we are going to respond to this thing that confounds us, this thing that surrounds us, this thing called grace that has the capability of changing our lives.  It is there for us, and rather than spending our time stammering out our ridiculously small reasons that might make it palatable for us to receive all that grace offers to us, I am instead convinced that we must get beyond thinking ourselves too insignificant for God’s grace, and instead take it all in.  We must learn how to respond to God’s grace and we must do so with abundant joy, new hope, and renewed enthusiasm for all that we are given by God!

So, how do we do that?  How do we respond appropriately to God’s grace?  How do we respond completely enough?  Honestly, I’m sure we never really can, and that is precisely why the opportunity to give back and to respond to God’s grace should be a joyous and spectacular event.  The enormity of grace provides a sort of “if we can’t do it right, we should at least do it loud” moment for us as people of faith.  One of the places that we are offered the opportunity to respond to God’s grace is through our tithes and offerings.  Although I am sure that the stewardship season is the least favorite season in the life of the church for some, I wonder if that is because we too often see our stewardship in the way that I think Zacchaeus originally did, and that way made him hide in a tree in an effort to see Jesus. Too often we see our stewardship tainted by obligation, by the notion that it is a rule, or even a way of paying penance. The stewardship season in the life of this church is indeed upon us, but there is no reason to hide in the trees.  Our stewardship is instead an opportunity to respond with joy to the grace of God that is always present for us.  There is simply no way that we can ever fully deserve all that God’s love, and that God’s grace, and that God’s hope grant to us.  But if none of us deserve all that we are given, then all of us have an opportunity to respond with equal measures of joy about what it is that we can give in celebration of our wholly undeserved, but still Holy gift of grace.

            

Together as a community of faith we are called to jump down out of the trees where we too often hide ourselves and welcome God’s grace into our homes, into our lives, and into all that we do.  God’s grace frees us to be “equal parts benefactor for and recipient of the generosity of God.³”  During this stewardship season, during this season of thanksgiving, and on each and every day, I invite you to celebrate the transformational reality of God’s grace and respond as best you are able.  Imagine what is possible if our joy and our passion match even a portion of God’s grace! Imagine the magnificent possibilities of such a response to God’s grace!

Thanks be to God!  Amen.

 

¹        Malina, Bruce J. and Rohrbaugh, Richard L., Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels., Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2003.  From page 303: “The sycamore (or, more correctly, scomore) referred to here is atype of fig tree, Ficus sycomorus. (Sycamore, spelled with an a, is an American name for a plane tree, genus Platanus.) Though the fruit was considered inferior to the true fig (Ficus carica), it was widely consumed by the poor and was cultivated by some (e.g., the prophet Amos identified himself as a trimmer of sycomore trees in Amos 7:14).

²        Malina, Bruce J. and Rohrbaugh, Richard L., Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels., Fortress Press, Minneapolis, 2003, page 303.

 

³        Goss, Robert E., The Queer Bible Commentary., "Luke," SCM Press, London, 2006, page 531.

A Sunday Sermon: Placing our Hope in a Jar

Sermon Texts:  Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15 and Luke 16:19-31

Ron Cey was the third baseball for the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team for much of the 1970’s.  He was a man who had such an odd and slow stride that he was named ‘the penguin’ by Tommy Lasorda.  He was also a six time All-Star, an above-average fielder, compiled a lifetime batting average of .261, and hit a over 300 home runs in his career.  He was involved in one of the most horrific moments in any World Series in 1981 when he was hit in the head by a pitch from Rich “Goose” Gossage, and that moment is widely credited as being a turning point for the Dodgers as they came back from a 2 game deficit to win the World Series. All of this is interesting to a few of you I would guess, but all of you may be wondering why the minutiae of Ron Cey’s major league career warrants a mention in a sermon.  I bring up Ron Cey this morning because I believe that the theme that ties our two scripture lessons together this morning is investment, and at one time in my life Ron Cey personified investment in my life.

I spent a great deal of time during my elementary and middle school years collecting and trading baseball, football, and hockey cards.  I still have most of those cards, and Shauna will roll her eyes and attest to the fact that we have moved boxes and albums of those cards with us wherever we have lived.  If you were to open up those albums, you would notice that they were organized by team, and it would be clear that I had several players who were my favorites. Nowhere would this be more true than when you look at my Los Angeles Dodgers section, where you couldn’t help but notice that along with Don Drysdale, Steve Garvey, and Fernando Valenzuela cards there are probably 20 Ron Cey cards that stretch from the beginning of his career all the way into the years when his skills were declining and he had moved on to play for the Chicago Cubs.  The existence of those 20 cards may tell you that I was invested in Ron Cey, but it doesn’t tell you the whole story because in order to do that I must tell you that at one time in my life I would have traded nearly any card in my collection to get another Ron Cey card.  I remember arguments with a couple of my friends who offered me nearly every card they had, if only I would trade them a Ron Cey card that they needed to complete their set.  I never made those trades and the continued existence of those Ron Cey cards attest to the investment I had in those cards and to some degree in Ron Cey.  Life however is not all about baseball cards.

As we move from baseball cards to our scripture lessons I believe we continue to uncover that which we value and that which we claim investment in.  Our lessons, from Luke and Jeremiah are both rather confusing lessons, offering insight into our faith if only we can muddle our way through the complexity of the words and events.  In our gospel reading we hear a parable of a rich man and Lazarus.  This is a morality tale, told in the form of a folklore story concerning the afterlife.  But really this story is not about what happens at the moment of our death, it is instead about the types of investments we make during our lifetime.  This passage tells of a rich man, who upon his death, finds himself tormented because of the choices he made during his lifetime.  The rich man discovers that while he persists in Hades, Lazarus the poor man who once lay outside the gates of his home, has found comfort in death.  This passage offers a stunning view of the reversal of fortunes that Jesus often spoke about, a reversal that Jesus indicated was necessary in order for the kingdom of God to come about.  While the rich man seemingly was invested in his fine linens and the status afforded him by his gated home, Lazarus had lay dying just outside.  This passage is fascinating because even as the rich man attempts to find a way to get away from the torment of this own doing, he continues to play the role that placed him there in the first place.  When he needs cool water—he asks Lazarus to get it for him and when he wants to try to save his brothers from the hell that he is experiencing, again he wants to send Lazarus—as if Lazarus is there to do his bidding.  The rich man, far from being indicted because of his wealth, is being indicted because of his investment in his wealth.  That is, the rich man cannot seem to get beyond the power that his wealth has always given him. He seems stuck there—but the chasm that is described in this passage is not a chasm between an Eden and the place of torment where the rich man has landed.   Instead the chasm that is described here exists between the apathetic, aloof, and shielded existence that the rich man had to live as he stepped over Lazarus to enter the gates of his property and the other option that he had—to be invested not solely in himself, his money, or his stuff; but in his society, in his family, and in those who crowd around the gates and fences of his property.  The chasm that exists here is based upon what the rich man has invested himself in.  Jesus is not speaking at all about the amount of wealth that the rich man had; instead Jesus is using this parable to speak about the rich man’s lack of investment in compassion and love for anything other than his own interests.  In this passage the last become first and the first become last, and Jesus would have us invest in no other system.  But alas, for the rich man this is a bewildering concept that requires an investment strategy with a greater vision than he can imagine…and thus he remains stuck with an investment with little hope of long-term dividends.

Our lesson from Jeremiah however is based on the hopefulness of a long-term investment strategy.  There are a lot of names and places in this passage so let me sort it out a bit:  The Babylonians are practically beating down the walls to the city, soon Jerusalem and Judah will lie in ruins and if we remember the ominous, angry, and prophetic words that Jeremiah has spoken as the voice of God, the coming destruction is exactly what Israel deserves.  However, as the opposing armies prepare to attack, God instructs Jeremiah to purchase buy a field at Anathoth.  The next part of the passage involves the ritual of procuring the deed, and doing so in the way that sets up a proper contractual agreement complete with two parts to the deed so that if there is any doubt about its authenticity Jeremiah would be able to prove his ownership.  Then, after rushing around to make this purchase as the Babylonians ready their attack, Jeremiah is to take the deeds of this new purchase and place them in an earthenware jar “so that they may last for a long time.”  This is an odd time to look for a great deal on real estate, but that is what Jeremiah does!

As odd as this moment seems it is really a compelling moment because this purchase is about much more than piece of property, it is about a promise for the future.  This purchase shows proof of God’s investment in Israel; it is another moment in the long history of Israel where God stands steadfast with Israel even when it seems that everything is bleak and hopeless.  Our scripture lesson ends with these words:  Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”  These are the most critical words of this passage because they clearly promise a future for God’s investment in the people of Israel.  After all the ominous warnings that Jeremiah has spoken this purchase signals something different—that a long-term investment has been made by God and that although everything seems like it is just about to be lost—there is hope for Israel, and lest anyone forget about that hope, it has been placed in an earthenware jar.

As I read the scripture lessons I was made to think about what it is that we in contemporary times invest in.  What is it that we value? Where do we get our sense of hope?  I can look back at my baseball cards and see the naive and uncomplicated life of a child, but although there are moments when I long to return there, that isn't where I will find hope.  The gospel of Jesus Christ calls us toward more than that.  We can find ourselves like the rich man who had invested everything he had in his things and in status, or we can seek wisdom from the hopeful nature of Jeremiah's purchase.  This is a purchase tha calls us toward an investment strategy that is based on future returns of an extraordinary type. Forget looking toward the Standard and Pours Index, because the return we are called toward can only be measured in hope. This passage should also inspire hope in contemporary times.  It should inspire us to pull on our rose–colored glasses and think our most hope-filled thoughts.  Our culture tells us to invest in the present, it tells us to invest in that which can be measured, that which can easily be converted to dollars and cents, and honestly that is probably the paradigm out of which the rich man in Luke operated, but our faith calls us to something else entirely.  Our faith calls us to put our hope in the immeasurable, in that which we cannot see, in that which is not provable—our hope will only be found in the love and grace of God.  For Jeremiah the deed in the earthenware jar was a tangible reminder of God’s promise as well as a tangible reminder of what it means to follow God into the unknown.  Honestly, I am not always very good at taking those type of risks—I tend to be someone who looks for the cautious way, for the easily calculated risk, or for the sure thing. However, as people of faith we need to be less restricted, less cautious, and above all else we need to be more faithful.  Jeremiah’s purchase is valuable only in the hope that it inspires because as that land is about to be controlled by the army of the enemy.  It could have been “Jeremiah’s folly,” but instead it marks the promise of a bright future that is to come for Israel.

And so today, I am going to invite you to do something as a sign of our collective willingness to put our hope in God.  In the pews you will find blue cards, and before the Hymn of Dedication I ask that you write down something that you would ask God’s help with, something for which you need God’s hope…and I invite you to come forward during the Hymn of Dedication to put your hope in the jars that are up here.  This is our opportunity to dream and hope big—hope for a cure for what ails us, hope for peace in our time, hope for new life in your relationship—hope for whatever it is that you need.  Place your hope in one of these jars and entrust it to God. It may be our folly, but our faith calls us to actively place our hope in God and this is our chance.  Invest in hope, invest in God’s promise…you are invited to place your hope in one of these earthenware jars and trust the rest to our God.

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

A Sermon in the Grove: "Caring for the Critters"

Last week we held our worship outdoors in Hansen Grove, amid the trees, the sounds of the birds, and the soft breeze.  I went off lectionary last week and instead created my sermon, entitled "Caring for the Critters" based upon the first creation narative in Genesis, James Weldon Johnson's "The Creation," a Filipino creation story, and Psalm 8.  Here is that sermon:

As I begin I would like to add another creation story to the mix, although the author is unknown, it comes from the Philippines.

“Well I’ll Be”

In the beginning the Great Spirit created the Universe. Now the universe was dark. So the Great Spirit said, “Let there be light.” And behold, light appeared.

Then the Great Spirit said, “Let the heavens be.” And behold, the heavens blossomed into galaxies filled with stars, planets, and moons.

The Great Spirit said, “Let the plants be.” And behold, the Earth began to green with mosses, ferns, vines, trees, flowers, and grasses.

Then the Great Spirit said, “Let the animals be.” And behold, countless creatures emerged to crawl, walk, fly, and swim over the land, sea, and sky.

All creatures needed and helped each other to stay alive. The sun gave its life to the plants; the plants gave their lives to the animals; the animals gave their lives to the worms; the worms gave their lives to the soil; and the soil gave its life to the plants.

The sun’s heat formed clouds that watered the rainforest; the forest’s canopy caught the lashing rain and dropped it gently into streams and rivers that continually watered the lowlands.

The rivers passed through the mangrove forests bringing water and soil for the trees. The swamp, in turn, purified the muddy rivers for the coastal reefs, which need crystal-clear water to survive.

Soon all creatures on earth began to sing:

“This earth spun of soil and sun, Water and air for all to share, Lives or dies by the work and play Of every creature, every day.”

Then Great Spirit danced to the song of her creation. “Well I’ll be!” She exclaimed, “This is wonderful.” (Copyright info at the end of post)

Over the years I have read the creation narrative in Genesis many times, but during high school one of my church school teachers introduced our class to the creation narrative in the book of Genesis in a rather dramatic way. Somewhere in the middle of our (my) less than attentive behavior during that class he decided he had had enough. I think it was after we rolled our eyes through the third and fourth days of creation that we were handed copies of James Weldon Johnson’s version of the creation narrative, and told to read it aloud a stanza at a time, “with feeling since we obviously had a bit of energy to contribute.” Now my behavior on that morning aside, I actually loved the creation narrative, but when I heard James Weldon Johnson’s version those seven days came alive in a new way. I still remember the conversations from that day as we moved back and forth between our bibles and James Weldon Johnson’s version. What was left out? What was described in detail? What was a mammy? What happened to the dominion language? What responsibility comes from being made in the image of God? Somehow, out of our disrespectful behavior a new appreciation for the text was coaxed out of us. Instead of our disrespect, we were given a new understanding of God’s creative impulse and new questions about own responsibility in God’s world.

My own vocabulary of my connection to God’s creation was formed on the lakes, rivers, and paths of Eastern Washington and North Idaho. When I think of the wonder of God’s creation I think of water lapping the shore of Lake Coeur D’ Alene, walking the jagged cliffs along Lake Pend Oreille, or hiking in the hills around Spokane, but there has to be more to our connect to God’s creation than our idyllic memories. Here in this place w