October 18, 2015

Gospel: Mark 10:35-45 

1^st Reading: Isaiah 53:4-12 

Hebrews 5:1-10

Today we welcome several new members and receive Everly Shae Brown in the sacrament of Holy Baptism. We call it a “Holy Spirit Moment” when the baptism date chosen for when the godparents could be present includes long-ago-chosen Bible readings about baptism. 

On this day, Everly takes her place next to Jesus, in his family. She has nothing to offer him. She is a helpless little baby. She has no idea where she's come from. We have no idea what her life will be like. She is not able to agree to be baptized or to accept Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior. It will be many years before she is able to understand God's promises to her, today, and maybe not even then. Thankfully it is not up to her or our understanding or acceptance. Jesus accepts Everly on this day, as helpless as she is, tiny as she is. In fact, she is an example for us. For the past several weeks, Jesus has been lifting up children as the ones who inherit the Kingdom of God. They are the ones we must emulate. They are the ones we look up to. The rich man wanted to be assured of eternal life—become like this child, who owns nothing in this world. The Disciples were arguing over which of them is the greatest—Jesus says, look at this child. She doesn't care if you're rich or powerful or drive the right kind of car or talk fancy or how you dress or if you have a college degree. Become like a little child, is his advice to us. Sometimes we think it is because of Original Sin that we baptize babies in our church. It is because of Original Blessing. We are acknowledging the blessing that we are participating in, in the life of this child. We are giving thanks for her life and what she teaches us, and surrounding her in a loving community at the earliest possible moment.

When her parents came to me a few weeks ago, I was ready to ask them what Baptism means to them, and how they planned to raise their child in the faith. Before I ever said a word, they shared about their son's journey of faith, from baptism in this congregation eight years ago, to finding that he had autism, like his brother, and that he also suffered hearing loss. The Browns shared with me that it was such an uncertain time in their lives, raising two young children with such challenges, and what hope baptism offered. They said it was a bright spot on their journey of parenthood. They moved away to Alaska for a few years and when they returned to the area, Hayden started attending the Roman Catholic Church with his grandparents. He benefits from the structure and friendships in his classes. He is growing in faith and closer to Christ and is warmly loved in his faith community. He knows that Jesus is his friend. 

Now this child comes to us at the beginning of her journey of faith and God blesses her in our midst, and we bless her by our promises, she blesses us by teaching us how to be vulnerable and helpless, we share a little of what it means to be a follower of Jesus in this life of faith. If we are following Jesus, we don't always find that an easy path. The reading from Isaiah makes that clear. It is the last of the four “Songs of the Suffering Servant” sometimes thought to refer to the nation of Israel and sometimes to a particular king. Later, Christians considered it a prophecy for the coming Messiah—for Jesus. This is more Good Friday than baptism. Still, I think it is appropriate, no matter how much it makes us squirm. Yes, it is about suffering, but it helps us realize that we are not alone in our suffering. When we find ourselves suffering from diseases and infirmities, when we are bruised, when life isn't fair, when justice is perverted, when we are a helpless child, God is there with us. God knows what it is like to suffer. We are not alone. That's the reason we include baptism as part of our Sunday worship service. When we are surrounded by the people and servants of God, we are surrounded by people who have known suffering and still known the presence and peace of God. And we are surrounded by people who have seen joy and light despite their struggles. 

At baptism we are recognizing our place in the priesthood of all believers. The reading from Hebrews shares a little bit about expectations of priests. It isn't just me that is a priest, but all of you become priests at your baptism. We all have responsibility for passing on the faith, and for living faithful lives and for guiding each other. And we are all subject to weaknesses. Thankfully, we have Jesus as high priest, because none of us can be perfect. But he is the one gave his life that we would have eternal life, and in this age share life with those around us. 

Finally, in the Gospel we also learn what Jesus is not here to do, and that is to grant our every wish. It is human nature to think that we are entitled to an easy life or a good life or a front-row seat. But we're not here to glorify ourselves or to win trophies or to get our wishes granted and Jesus wasn't here for that either. He came to serve. More specifically, he came to serve God. Without knowing that, you might ask if Jesus came to serve, why doesn't he do what the Disciples ask of him and place them on either side? But he's not there to serve our whims. He is there to serve God. God, like this baby doesn't care about your power or wealth or education, but only the love and kindness that you share with others.

When we are baptized we are acknowledging that we are Jesus' Disciples. The Disciples in this Gospel story want to follow Jesus in his glory, but Jesus lets them know that they don't just pick the parts of the journey they like. Living is a risk. Living the life of a Disciple is a risk. And it isn't just the likelihood that they will suffer, but the assurance of it. The way they phrase their request, “to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left,” brings to mind those crucified next to him, on the cross. The Disciples don't know what they are asking, yet they claim to, and as it turns out, eventually they are able and they do make the ultimate sacrifice. Whatever they suffer, they also know the presence and blessing of God. 

Everly, too, as much as we'd like to protect her, will know pain and challenge. But she will always have the story of this day to strengthen her and give her hope. Her grandparents and parents will tell her of God's love for her. They will tell her about the water of life. They will tell her about the Holy Spirit. They will tell her that her's is a baptism like Jesus' in which God called her a beloved daughter. They will tell her about the promise of the community to love and support her and teach her. And Everly will have much joy in her life, too, so she'll know who to thank. She won't take it for granted or take all the credit for it. 

To be baptized into Christ's baptism, is to acknowledge that we receive the Holy Spirit, God's presence with us. And it is to hear the words that Jesus heard at his baptism, “This is my beloved Child. I am well pleased.” Everly, today is claimed as God's beloved child just as she is. God is pleased. And God gives her new life, from the first breath she ever took, through all of her life in God's service, and into eternal life when she is joined in unity with all creation. And we recognize again the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of this brother and these sisters who join our congregation, today.

Because of the gift of the Holy Spirit and all God's gifts we live a life of thankfulness. It is because of God's love for each of us that we gather together to sing God's praises, and we serve the poor and hungry during the week, and we simplify our lives so that our possessions are not our focus, and we join in prayer as we make an estimate for the coming year of our giving. We don't earn God's love by giving, but we give because we have been claimed in baptism, because we are grateful for all God has given us—everything, and because we want to respond to God's love by trying to make this world a little bit better, which is what our offerings are intended to do. 

Today is Everly's baptism day, but it is also a day in which we celebrate our own baptism. You were each created by God and called by God into the priesthood of all believers. God called you by name and blessed you and claimed. God has walked with you in times of joy and sorrow. God has shown you what it means to be a servant of God. I invite you, today, as you go to communion or return, or as you leave this place, to dip your finger into the baptismal font and make the mark of the cross on your forehead like the pastor did the day you were baptized. Picture your friends and family surrounding you, Jesus at your side, the Holy Spirit descending like a dove, and picture God's presence coming to all in need, allowing them to sit on his left and right, comforting the sick, visiting the lonely, spending time with the imprisoned, and giving the water of life to all who are thirsty. Envision our world healed through small but powerful acts of love. Envision the body of Christ, all who have gone before and those yet unborn, all of God's creation, linked together in his love, working together peacefully. This is what God sees and what God plans for our world. Let this vision give us hope and motivate and mobilize us to make the Kingdom real for all who suffer and are vulnerable. May God bless Everly, may God bless Tony, Rita, and Elaine, may God bless each of you, and may each of you be a blessing to others until all know God's peace.

October 11, 2015

Gospel: Mark 10:17-31 

1^st Reading: Amos 5:6-7, 10-15

2^nd Reading: Hebrews 4:12-16

During my sabbatical, I have mentioned, Sterling and I were able to visit other churches. Each Saturday evening I would explain what was the plan for the next day. We would get up and get dressed, eat breakfast, and then we would go to another church, but it wouldn't be King of Kings. It would be a different church. Sterling would ask me lots of questions. Do they have fans? Will we sing songs. Can I bring my Magnadoodle? About the third week I was explaining all this to him he asks, “Mom, are we going to visit ALL the other churches?” Then on the way there he said, “Mom, are you Pastor Aimee?” It was a question I struggled to answer. I wasn't preaching and teaching. I wasn't visiting the sick or taking phone calls from people asking for help paying bills. I wasn't really listening to anyone's story of faith. At that time I said, “Not right now, but I'll go back to being Pastor Aimee in the Fall.” That seemed to satisfy him. About the second week back here, I came to wake him up Sunday morning to get him ready for church and I was wearing my clerical collar and he said, “Mom, you're Pastor Aimee again!” He was pretty excited. 

It is interesting to think about how we define ourselves. Sometimes we don't realize it until it's gone. Retirement can bring up all sorts of identity questions as folks try to figure out who they are how they want to spend their time now that they aren't at work all the time. Losing a spouse can mean redefining ourselves. Some may not have realized how deeply they had internalized that role of husband or wife or caretaker. Sometimes giving up the keys or downsizing to move to assisted living means some of us are evaluating again what do we really need to live. What gives my life meaning? What defines me? What can I live without? 

This week I heard another version of the Gospel that goes like this: As Jesus was going on a journey a man ran up to him and said, "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus looked on him with love and said, "Go and give up your partisan worldview, your self-righteousness when it comes to Biblical interpretation, your contempt for those politically and theologically different from you, and give yourself to those you find difficult to live with." The man went away crestfallen, for he had great love for his correctness in all these things, and great love for his partisan identity. 

Here's this man in the Gospel of Mark. He runs up to Jesus. His first step is to assume how Jesus defines himself. He calls him, “Good,” maybe to butter him up. Well, Jesus is self-assured, he doesn't need anybody's compliments. Jesus makes it clear that he isn't there to promote his own goodness, but to direct people to the goodness of God.

It seems that this guy is pretty sure that he's satisfied all the requirements. You shall not murder. Check! You shall not commit adultery. Check! You shall not bear false witness. Check! You shall not steal. Check! You shall not defraud. Check! Honor your father and mother. Check! Oh, the Ten Commandments, that's a cinch! Check! Here this guy has done all this, but something brought him to Jesus. Somehow, something was missing. Was it Jesus' final pronouncement that he needed, telling him he passed the test? Was it some struggle within him that didn't quite sit right? Something brought him there. There was something still missing.

Maybe he was asking the wrong question. He said, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Maybe what he should have asked is, “What must we do to inherit eternal life?” 

In the German language, there is the word for you—du, and there is the word for you plural—sie, meaning all you all. In English you is the same for one or for many so sometimes we miss the subtleties in German or in the Biblical languages. In the reading for Amos today, it says, “Seek good and not evil, that you may live.” We tend to take this personally, “I should seek good so that I may live.” But it really says, “Seek good and not evil, that all you all may live.” This isn't about any individual, but about the whole group. If you don't live, I don't live. I can't fully live until my neighbor does. I can't fully live until that prostitute down on 82^nd fully lives. I can't live until people don't have to fear their power is going to be turned off, until people have enough nutritious food to eat, until the trees are no longer suffering in the drought, until the salmon can find their way safely upriver again. Our lives are all tied up together.

Jesus turns this man from the “I” to the “we.” He focuses on his relationship with other people. That's what the commandments help us do. What is my relationship with my neighbor? How do I relate to those around us. But the commandments are not a checklist, or a game you can win. They are a journey of relationship. Honoring our parents is a continuum. Sometimes we do it more, sometimes less. Sometimes we honor them by doing things differently than they would. Even murder, adultery, and stealing are a continuum that Jesus says you are on if it even crosses your mind to do any of those things. Our whole lives we are trying to figure out how to live in a way that is true to us and true to the whole of all those God has made. How do we live in respectful way to everyone? How do we seek the LORD? How do we seek what God seeks? How do we journey with other people also on a journey?

Because our journey of faith isn't a checklist, there is always one more thing we could do. Since the man asked for extra credit, so he can be assured of eternal life, Jesus is going to give him an assignment that will make him question whether God and the welfare of his neighbor are central to his life, or whether his things are defining him. The man who has it all is told he lacks one thing. He doesn't have it all after all! “What is it?,” he wants to know! I must have that, too, to add to my collection. That thing is not something he can own. It is something permanent, unlike all those other things he's got. His assignment is to let go of his possessions and quit letting them define him and take his focus, money, attention, and care. “Go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor.”

The truth is, most of us are not willing to do this. It would be irresponsible if we did. Others would be left with the burden of caring for our needs. We would be less able to visit the sick or distribute food or knit warm hats. 

I read a review this week on the New York Times website for a book called “Strangers Drowning: Grappling With Impossible Idealism, Drastic Choices, and the Overpowering Urge to Help.” This book is a series of profiles of extreme do-gooders, people who put themselves on a very restrictive budget so they can give most of their money to the poor, who forgo small pleasures, measuring their cost in the number of malaria nets or school kits that could be purchased with that money. The book is getting great reviews and maybe I'll find time to read it this year. The reviews seem to point out that serving others doesn't always mean selflessness, but can become a contest to win or a test to pass. Serving can be a selfish act, their acts of goodness held over the heads of friends and family. That doesn't mean they aren't doing great good, but made me think of how we define ourselves and if we don't sometimes make ourselves the savior instead of Jesus.

Does it have to be all or nothing? If we were Jesus, we would give it all up and suffer and die. But we aren't. But we value the one who did. He did it for us. He wasn't here to make himself comfortable or to party down. He was here to give life and to help us realize what life is really all about. So when the time came that we lost everything we ever owned, when our parents or spouse or children died, when our friends abandoned us, we would still have hope. And we do. You meet people all the time who have lost it all, and far from being bitter, they are often grateful. People I know who suffered a miscarriage, are grateful for the children they were able to carry to term or the child they were able to adopt or their nieces and nephews they were able to care for, or the school children they were able to mentor. People who have moved into assisted living realize they didn't need all that stuff. The only thing they want is a visit from someone who cares about them. When people have lost a home to a fire, they are just glad that no one was hurt. When people make it through a car accident or surgery, they seem to have a real sense of what matters in life. 

“Go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.” When we are anxious and afraid, when we are not sure who we are and are searching, Jesus directs us to look to others, and change our mindset from me to we. And I am going to congratulate you all on this. I see you doing this in your volunteer work here and in the neighborhood. Many of you do so many things throughout the week to help those in need. We do this every time we work on quilts that go to local nursing homes, when we work on a house for Habitat for Humanity, when we stock the shelves or go shopping for the pantry, when we participate in cleanup day here at church, when we take in a rescue animal, when we write a letter to our legislators. We are taking our time, which is precious and putting our treasure not for ourselves, but for others. And that is heaven for us—it is peace of mind, it is tangible hope. And it is heaven for the other person—if one parent is educated about why a baby is crying and a baby is spared shaking, if a person is wrapped in a warm quilt, if a child finds food the weekend in his backpack and a warm hat at Christmastime, that is heaven in that moment, a piece of abundant eternal life. Not many of us are going to give it all up on purpose, but together we can have the effect as if many people had given up all they own. Then our lives are not all about me, me, me, but instead about us, us, us.

I hope you will find yourselves encouraged this week by Jesus words, rather than going away grieving. On our own, we can't give up everything and be Jesus. There is only one Jesus and he lived and died to give us life. In thanks to him, we give away our time and money and skills to help others. In response to him, we try to keep our priorities straight. And because we know the love and peace of Christ, when the time comes and we lose it all, we are still at peace because we belong to Christ and rest securely in his love, and no one can take that away from us. 

I like to think that this grieving was not the last word for this fellow who spoke to Jesus in the Gospel. It touched him deeply. Surely he looked at his possessions differently from that day forward. Perhaps he stood at the foot of the cross not long after this. But even if nothing changed, Jesus looked at him and loved him and that's what God does for us. What seems impossible, that we would put God first, may be possible in that God loves us and put us before himself. Somehow we find ourselves standing next to Jesus with our checklist and he crumples it up and says, “Let me love you. Give me a hug.” And in that moment, nothing else matters. It isn't long before we have a deeper joy and we don't need the latest thing and we can live more simply and we can live with Christ's love being shared in a free exchange.

I don't know about you, but I can't bear the burden of the world. When I let in all the world's pain, I get overwhelmed and afraid. But Jesus bore that pain. He could do it, because he was there from the beginning to see how things got this way, and he could see the end of the story, how God's love would unite us all and bring peace. So I have to let Jesus carry that pain, and to allow in as much of it as I can take without going into despair, knowing Jesus can bear that with me and that we all bear that together, and that God is working through all of us to bring peace and new life to us all.

October 4, 2015

Gospel: Mark 10:2-16 

1^st Reading: Genesis 2:18-24

2^nd Reading: Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12

Nick and I celebrated our 20^th Anniversary this year. We met in our teens and, in a way, grew up together. I was 20 and Nick was 21 when we were married. The year we were married, I went through a terrible depression. Until a couple of years ago, I thought it was the adjustment of married life. I moved out of my parents' house and was still in college. Nick worked graveyard shifts at a home for developmentally disabled adults. He worked 4 nights and then had to turn his schedule around to the daytime for Thursday meetings. It was only a couple of years ago that I realized that I was probably so low because that was also the year my parents got a divorce. 

The thought never crossed my mind that it was my parents' divorce that caused me such grief, because I was so relieved when they got divorced. It was not unexpected. They had been to marriage counseling year after year. I encouraged my mom to leave my dad. But I don't know if I fully expected her to go through with it, and they had just bought a new minivan—made a major purchase that made me think they were going to try to work it out again. I knew that they were unhappy, but I couldn't anticipate what life would be like if they were apart. We had to work out, where we would go for Thanksgiving and Christmas. There was the splitting up of the household. And then there was the complication I hadn't anticipated. My mom found a new relationship almost right away and a strange man moved into the house where I grew up. 

Would it have been better if my parents had heeded Jesus' teaching about divorce? That's doubtful. 20 years later, they are both much better off, but at the time it was very difficult for all of us, especially for my brother and sister who stilled lived at home. During that time, the church was helpful to my mom. Our congregation had been her support system for a long time. She had many friends and activities there. Still, I doubt she looks forward to church on the day this reading comes up. Maybe some of you can relate. 

My dad had a very different experience. He came to worship a couple of times a year. He did coach the church softball team and so was somewhat connected. He only joined the church so he could vote on the Sunday the congregation was voting to call a new pastor. In the divorce, he felt that the congregation took sides against him and felt bitter that no one called or came by to see how he was doing. 

Those of you who know the pain of divorce, may have had this scripture used as a weapon against you. Why did Jesus say something that seems so unloving and unforgiving against divorced people? In some ways it just doesn't sound like something he would say.

Let me give you a little context for this. The word for divorce used here has nothing to do with marriage, but simply means, “to send away.” Divorce was not a mutual parting, but a situation in which a man could shirk his responsibilities to his wife and children—the children went with their mother. At the time Jesus lived, a man was the only one who could get a divorce. A woman was considered property—she had no rights, could not divorce anyone. On her own, a woman no way of making a living, and no honor or dignity, having been sent away from her husband. At this time, there were two Rabbis with different schools of thought about divorce. The one Rabbi believed that a man could send his wife away for any reason, whatsoever—even burning his dinner. The other Rabbi said that husbands had more responsibilities toward their wives, that they must give them a certificate saying it wasn't her fault and restoring some of the honor she would be lacking so maybe she'd have a chance to marry again. So here is Jesus' teaching on divorce. He takes a stronger stance. “What God has joined together, let no one separate.” Sending your wife away was not allowed. A husband's responsibility to his wife was so strong it might as well be his own flesh that was on the line. He should treat her as his own flesh, as he would treat himself. So this was a very empowering step that Jesus was offering, a big step forward in women's rights. For Jesus, it was unacceptable to cast off, to send away the most vulnerable, helpless people in society. And that's why he takes this little child in his lap in the next paragraph. Actually this teaching about divorce is sandwiched between little child stories. It is making the point about the ones who suffer most when wives are cast off.

In those days the primary role of the family was to be fruitful and multiply, to bear and raise children. And even the Pope can't deny that many kinds of families do a wonderful job at that. We've multiplied until this earth can barely support us. The weekend Sterling was born, world population hit 7 billion. We no longer have to worry about whether human population is high enough to sustain itself. We have to worry about if human population is too high to sustain itself and whether we are encroaching on God's commandment to the other animals to “Be fruitful and multiply.”

There are lots of kinds of families. In Jesus' times there were mostly arranged marriages, and that is still the norm in parts of the world, today. There are some families in which two people are monogamous with each other their whole lives, although they are more rare. There are families that are mixed. When my sister announced that she would be having her fourth child, her older children were less than excited. They already found it tedious to explain to their friends how their sister had different grandparents than they did. She has 5 children with 4 different dads, but the children are loved and they make it work. There are, of course, families with two moms or two dads. I provided childcare, when I was in seminary, for one couple who had adopted two children from China. One parent was called Daddy and the other Papa. I always had trouble remembering which was which. 

One thing that hasn't changed since this reading from Genesis, is that it isn't any good for any of us to be alone. We need each other. Families need each other. Single people need deep friendships. And gay and lesbian people shouldn't have to be alone. It wasn't even good that God should be alone. Instead God created animals and people to be in relationship with, to work together with, to find fulfillment with, to argue with, and to love. There are animal families, as well, that we should respect. They play their part in this world. Families of bees ensure that we eat by pollinating crops. Coyote families keep the mice population under control. Families of trees help hold each other up, strengthening root systems and protecting each other in wind storms. Even families of bacteria play their part breaking down organic matter. In some ways, we are all family. We came from the same stardust and elements that all other creatures, animal, vegetable, or mineral on our planet. All life probably emerged from a single celled organism. We are all related and interrelated. We need each other.

And to these families, whether traditional families, or adoptive families, or dysfunctional families, Jesus says we can't abandon or throw away the helpless and vulnerable ones, whoever they may be. Sometimes it is women and children, sometimes it is puppies and kitties, sometimes it is the air we breathe or the river we live next to, or the tree we live under. When we see to the welfare of the most vulnerable and helpless, all other life benefits as well. 

This is where many of us with the shooting in Roseburg this week. It is our nature to rush to blame and rush to answers to avoid the fear and pain that this kind of event brings up in us. God is with us in all our emotions. Rather than lead us to finger-pointing, may it lead us to embrace one another and to find out who are the vulnerable ones and how can we look out for each other so no one falls through the cracks. Who are the vulnerable ones and how do we stick with them so they aren't alone?

The truth is, we are powerful. God made us a little lower than the angels. We have what we need to survive and much more. We are so rich in this country. And whatever material wealth we do or don't have, we in this congregation are wealthy in connections. We know and care for each other. It is not good for us to be alone. No one worshipping here today, need feel alone. We are one. We come from one God. Our voices join. We share a faith. We value love. We are grateful. We are powerful. We use our power then to help those who need it most. We are responsible not to walk away from those who need us. That is what church is about. That is what the pantry is about. That is what this pet blessing is about. Our pets are maybe the best ones to teach us about being reliable companions. They are the ones who would never abandon us. They teach us about God's faithfulness. They are helpless and vulnerable, and by sticking with them, they don't drag us down, they lift us up and are a blessing and gift to us.

So I'm not saying that divorce doesn't matter. It is a painful subject that is never easy to navigate. How long do you stay in a bad relationship before giving up on it? How hard do you work on it, when the other person isn't interested in working on it at all? Can you learn to trust again after repeated infidelity or after abuse? None of us knows what goes on in another relationship. None of us in a position to judge. Our job is to remember that relationships are hard work, to be supportive of other people's relationships, and not to abandon anyone when they are at their lowest and most vulnerable and helpless points. It is our job to remember that Jesus loved us, when were little children, with nothing to offer him. That even when we denied and betrayed him, and hung him on a cross to die, he offered forgiveness and love. And then he came back to us, not to chastise and punish us, but to welcome us and give us eternal life. Now, we do the same to others around us, creating one big web, a safety net that no one slips through, until we call all brothers and sisters, and live in proper relationship with all that God has made.

September 27, 2015

 Gospel: Mark 9:38-50 

1^st Reading: Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29

2^nd Reading: James 5:13-20

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth....God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good.” God blessed them, animals of every kind and humankind, as well. Each received God's spirit, as it moved over the waters and called them forth. Each was created good to be a blessing to one another.

When I think of the whole of this Earth, and how each plant and animal is balanced with all the other ones, how each environment is uniquely suited for specific species, the symbiotic relationships between plants and animals, how they help each other out, it just boggles my mind. Plants provide shelter and food. Animals carry the seeds and provide fertilizer. Insects break up the waste to ensure that roots of plants have access to what they need. And then there is the geography of the land, how the water evaporates and the clouds are pushed higher in the sky where they make rain or snow and how the snow accumulates and then melts to provide moisture through all the seasons in a steady supply for the life of all the plants and animals, including humans. What an amazing world we live in! No matter how much we study and try to understand all the interrelationships and how everything works together, we will never know all the ways that each plant or insect or animal or mountain or stream is a blessing, or even how we are blessed by them. We will never fully know the fullness of the Spirit and power of God in each of its manifestations, in each of God's creatures. 

The Earth has, at times, been called an organism, because no one living being could exist on its own, not even the cockroach. Each relies on the other as a living, breathing, system of interrelated parts.

“Would that all the LORD's people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them!” Well, folks, God did put God's spirit on all people, and not only that, on all Creation and blessed them. Why don't we know it and see it? I think, at times, we do. A new baby is born, and we know it. But a baby is innocent and helpless. It can't argue with you. It is easy to love a baby. Somehow, when people grow up, it seems easier to find fault with them and write them off or deny their Spirit. 

There might be a couple of reasons we don't see the Spirit so easily in others. One is that the world is always telling us that some have Spirit and some don't. The world tells us that folks have spirit and value if they are young, wealthy, hip, and clean. Another reason we don't see the Spirit in ourselves or others is that we see ourselves differently if we think of ourselves that way. If we have God's Spirit, then we have responsibility.

That's where the Israelites are, this morning. They don't see they have Spirit, or power to do anything about the situation they are in, so they are complaining and blaming others for their predicament. We always laugh when we read this lesson, because it is so familiar. We can hear ourselves whining like that. We can hear our friends, kids, and family whining like that. “I'm sick of this food! This is disgusting! I want melon!” They blame Moses. Moses blames God. Pretty soon everyone is mad at everyone else. 

Instead, God reminds people that they do have the Spirit, that Moses isn't the only one with gifts, and they are all capable and responsible for the welfare of the people. The reading actually cuts out the part where God gets mad and basically promises, “You want meat? I'll give you meat! You'll have meat until you can't stand another bite.” But just like when a mother gets frustrated and shouts at an ungrateful child, God comes around to be level-headed again and remembers that punishment doesn't work very well, it is the empowering of the child, whether he is 3 or however old Moses is, that is going to help. It is the encouraging of the sharing of the load, the sharing of the Spirit that is going to help, to inspire the imagination.

All the people could think about was the past. Oh, there were some good meals to be had in Egypt. But is that all there is of life? You eat three meals a day, but when you live in slavery, that is a barrier to the Spirit. The people needed to be free. They needed to be free of Pharaoh and that oppression, but they were also in Wilderness School, as Dan Erlander likes to call it, in his book “Manna and Mercy.” The people were learning what it meant to be free, to recognize the Spirit in each of them, to work together in community, to handle things as mature adults, and to take responsibility for their part. 

So God appointed 70 elders and God reminded them, they have the gift of prophecy. God gathered them around and asked them to tap into their dreams for the future. What were their hopes for their new land? What would it be like there? How would it be to live in freedom? I doubt it was very hard for those elders to go there. They just needed to be reminded to let their hopes and imaginations work. Then their anxiety and living in the past melted away, for that moment, and the community was able to move forward. But it wasn't just the 70 official elders that were accessing their hopes and dreams. Here come Eldad and Medad. Can't you just imagine these identical twin hoodlums—the rhyming names just add another level of humor to this story! Moses says, “I'll take all the help I can get! Are there any more Eldad's and Medad's out there? Find your Spirit! It is in there! Find your hope, your creativity and share it with the community! It isn't food we're in short supply of, it is imagination.”

And God is saying that to each of us, today. You have the Spirit. It was promised in your baptism and it is still there, no less effective than that blessed day. And you know what, I am going out on a limb to say that even those who aren't baptized have that Spirit, too. God created us each one, breathed God's Spirit into us, and blessed us. Of course people are out there doing God's work that have nothing to do with the church, but God is working through them all the same, and maybe even more effectively than some of us who feel we need permission to prophesy or dream.

You know that dream you have. It isn't about something shallow, but it is a bigger dream about the interconnectedness of all Creation. It is about wholeness. It is hopeful. I invite you to let God reveal that dream to you. I invite you to let yourself dream it. 

I heard a story last week that really inspired me. It is about a boy in Malawi in 2002. There was a drought and his family's farm failed. They could no longer afford to send him to school. I'm sure he felt distressed. I'm sure he felt like giving up. Like the Israelites, surely he complained. But God's dream did not go away from him. He did not lose sight of his goal or what might be possible. Each day, he went to the library to teach himself. And as he read, he got an idea. From scraps of wood, bicycle parts, and other parts from the dump and he made a windmill that his family was able to use to power their home and appliances. It seemed like he had lost everything, but he didn't forget God's Spirit was in him. He moved past the despair, kept the bigger picture in mind, and accomplished something that helped him and his family. Compared to him, we've had everything handed to us, but we still experience despair from time to time. Do we let it deflate us, or do we look to the bigger picture and God's inspiration to help us make a difference.

So now we come to the Gospel reading about cutting off hands and feet. Not a favorite reading for most preachers. This is where I am this week. The Israelites were in despair, and in their despair they were particularly shortsighted. All they could think of was the food they wanted to eat. They would have sold themselves back into slavery, sold their bodies, their children, their wives and mothers and fathers back into slavery for some tasty leeks. They would have cut off their freedom for a cheap price. 

The Disciples were jealous. They had just failed at casting out demons. Now there were these other guys, who didn't even know them, who hadn't been through the training that were successful. The Disciples are so shortsighted. Their own egos are getting in the way.

So Jesus says something to point out just how shortsighted they are being. It is absurd, to get their attention. Very similar to when a kid scrapes his knee and we say, “Shall we amputate?” In that moment the pain and the wounded pride are all on the kid's mind. But when we say, “Shall we amputate?” it is a reminder of the greater good of that leg. In the same way, Jesus says, “Shall we amputate?” If we start cutting off each other and deciding who is in and who is out, we start cutting off the body of Christ. Recall the reading, “The hand can't say to the eye, 'I have no need of you.” “Whoever is not against us is for us.” We are all one. We can't afford to cut each other off. Since each carries God's Spirit, we can't afford to do without each other, just as we can't afford to live without an appendage. We need each other.

Possibly the other reason we don't dream is that we're afraid. If I open myself to this dream, what will it mean for my life? How will it change me? How will I be different? God is changing us. God is lifting our eyes from our own troubles and scrapes, to see that we are not alone, to acknowledge the Spirit in ourselves and others, and to see the bigger picture of a world thriving in God's living Spirit.

September 20, 2015

Gospel: Mark 9:30-37 1^st Reading: Jeremiah 11:18-20

2^nd Reading: James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a

When I was on sabbatical, I had the chance to attend some other churches in the area. I commend anyone who has had the bravery to walk into a new church setting recently. I was really nervous. Sometimes I had Sterling with me. Sometimes I was all alone and awkward. I forget how comfortable it is for me to come here, and how uncomfortable is not to know what is going to happen. I did my research to find out what was close to my house, what time their services were, and what their philosophy was. The most important question that I couldn't ever find out from a website was how long the service would be. Would I be able to make it to my next engagement on time? Now I know, when people call asking more details about church services, this is probably what they are asking. 

I have to admit, I found myself being judgmental as I did my research. One website had a couple of typographical errors, one being that an “s” to make a plural had an apostrophe, making it possessive. This is a pet peeve of mine. I didn't end up going to that church. Other churches, I would read their pastor's welcome statement or part of a sermon, and I would get so put off by the tone, I would decide that wasn't the place for me. The first 4 churches I went to had female pastors. For some reason that was easier for me. I couldn't picture myself in a setting with an authoritarian male pastor, who in my imagination would try to be our buddy, or like a dad lecturing us on with too many easy answers. That fourth church I went to, we had a confession about who we are unwilling to accept and who we discount, so I had to admit to myself, I was having some hang up about male pastors. I had to confess that maybe God had something to say to me through one of these pastors, and maybe I was closing myself off. The next church I went to was Episcopal, and had a male priest. They ended up having a wonderful community garden that I asked about and also a couple of hospital chaplains that I connected with at coffee hour. Then I realized it wasn't men at all. I prefer gentle people. I like humble pastors. I like pastors who are open and kind. It had been so long since I got to pick my pastor, that I didn't even realize what I was looking for. And then of course it got me reflecting on what kind of pastor I am and how people see me.

I was comparing myself to other people. I was trying to figure out who was the greatest. I was measuring myself and others. And in the end, at the church I felt the most at home, the pastor was away that day and they had a supply preacher. It was the community, it was the warmth, it was their unequivocal welcome of my son, who I could hear shrieking in delight from downstairs at children's time. It was about the welcome. And I felt inspired by the music and the preaching and the prayers. God spoke to me.

I was so nervous about going into all of those churches, even with all the research I did. I made sure they were welcoming of all people and had a formal welcome statement. I went to only mainline churches, so I knew something of what to expect. But being the stranger, I knew I was not just judging, but I was being judged. Would I dress more formally or less formally than the other people? Would I know when to stand up and sit down? Would my kid behave more or less how you'd expect? Would anyone speak to me? Would folks be too eager for me to join their church since I was well dressed, can sing, and have a small, delightful child? I could feel going into these churches, the sizing up, the measuring, both that I was doing and from them toward me. In most places, it certainly wasn't a time of peaceful meditation, but it ended up opening my eyes a little bit about comfort and welcome and I did feel quite close to God in my fear of the unknown.

Most of the time, church isn't about being comforted. Ok, maybe occasionally a little comfort is ok. When you're weary, feeling small, when you're grieving, hurting, lost, alone, then church is for comfort. When you're a kid or someone else everyone discounts, church is for comfort. When you're in transition, ok, we'll offer you some comfort. 

But every week we come here and we listen this uncomfortable story. We don't hear about Jesus in the easy chair, sipping margaritas. Whatever else we hear, we hear this story of the night before his death, and about blood poured out and body broken. It is uncomfortable. It makes us squirm—the pain of rejection, the pain of the Disciples misunderstanding, the pain of death, the kind of people Jesus talked to, the judgment from the Disciples, the measuring of greatness in Jesus' time reflected in our own situation, and Jesus' refusal to use usual human measurements to crown the greatest, the self-confident, attractive, strong, wealthy person with the nice house and car, with kids that never get into trouble, like we expect. 

These human measurements of greatness are the ones that often take central place in our minds. We deny it, but our actions speak louder than our words. We say we don't care about things like that, but we pretend to have it all together. We wear nice clothes. We want a nice car. We are proud of our nice house. We eat rich food. We can buy almost anything we want. We can go almost anywhere we want, and no one would bat an eye. We are accepted and acceptable.

But Jesus constantly puts the person in the limelight and sets people before us that don't fit our standards for greatness. In fact, he chooses the very most unlikely to be the example and to represent him. Here's a leper, be like a sick person. Here's a child, welcome her. Here's someone of a different faith, welcome him. Here's someone who is an undocumented immigrant who doesn't speak your language, welcome her and you welcome Jesus. It is all about the other person's comfort, not my own.

When I come to my own church and sit where I always do and do the things I always do and see the people I always see, it can easily become about my own comfort. When I went to those other places I could see the comfort of those who already knew where they would sit and what the Gospel response was, etc. And still because I could say to them, “I am a pastor on sabbatical,” I found that I was quite easily accepted and relatively more comfortable than most other visitors. It was my discomfort that probably helped me grow the most, that made me more aware of what people go through when they visit or when they are sick or feel alone or when everyone ignores them.

When we are uncomfortable, it can be easy to fall into the mindset in the Old Testament Reading. We might feel persecuted or personally rejected Everyone is out to get me, like in Jeremiah. God knows what that is like, to have everyone scheming against you, and certainly hears our cries. And we don't live in that space, forever. As I have watched the Syrian refugees, babies in life jackets held above their heads on crowded boats, all thoughts of “poor me” are banished. We are all so blessed. We remember the friends we do have. We remember the privileges and comforts we do have. And we use that experience to drive us to compassion, that is to suffer with, those who are truly being destroyed. When we say to ourselves that it doesn't feel very good to be in this experience or we feel alone or uncomfortable, then we can ask ourselves, who says this about us, what we read in Jeremiah? Who are the recipients of our schemes and our destruction? Who is complaining to God us about us, this morning? What is it that we think we need that we don't have and what have we been willing to do to get it? Who have I looked right past in my effort to put myself first and be the greatest? I'm not really that bad, am I God? Please tell me that I'm good enough! 

The Gospel is challenging before it is comforting. “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and be killed.” Humans will fail Jesus and kill him. Humans fail one another and kill each other every day. Each of us is failing that little child, that person who is lonely or ill, that mentally ill guy on the street corner, and so forth. And we are failing our planet, our Mother Earth, that God made to sustain life. We are failing future generations, burning up all this oil and putting poison back into the air that the Earth once filtered out and sequestered so that human kind could safely walk this earth. If we think we are innocent of Jesus' blood or of the blood of innocent people, we are wrong. In our quest for greatness, of having what we don't have and have it cheaply, we step all over people we never even see and cause them great suffering. 

Jesus' eyes go to the little child and our eyes go there, too. Look at what you're doing. Look at what you're teaching this child has value—a car, rich food, the latest phone, the latest style, that the eyebrows and finger nails have to look perfect. Instead of acting like children and fighting over what doesn't matter and what doesn't last, lets turn our focus and look at each other and see in each other the little child, so full of potential, so innocent and helpless, so pure. Let us look to that child to learn something about being open and curious, about being vulnerable and so often in situations where they don't know what to expect or how to dress or act, about seeing people as people instead of putting everyone into categories. 

Ask a child who is the greatest and it is the person who is funny, or who has a dog, or who has a fan to turn on and off. Sometimes I take Sterling with me to visit people who are homebound and he always asks me, “Does she have a fan?” And there is one woman, in particular, he always cheers and boisterously exclaims, “She has a fan! Is it spinning?” He doesn't think she is old and bed bound and sometimes grouchy and abandoned by her family. He knows she has value because we take the time to sit with her and show by our presence that she has value. You should see him when we go to pray with her. He sits right up on her bed and takes her hand. She is someone who could complain and has complained that nobody loves her and everyone is out to get her. But in that moment, she who has endured many evil deeds, and has suffered greatly, is comforted, is part of something, is that one that Jesus puts in the center.

“Submit yourselves therefore to God,” we read in James this morning. Our lives are not about wanting what we don't have and getting stuff for ourselves. It isn't about us. “Submit yourselves therefore to God,” we read in James this morning. I doubt anybody likes this language. It sounds so much like wives submit to your husbands, which we gave up a long time ago. What the scripture is saying is to trust God. It is a lack of trust in God that leads to wanting what we don't have and getting in fights and conflicts and arguing about who is the greatest and stepping all over the little people that God cares about. Trust God. Don't be afraid to ask him your question, like the Disciples were, but just know that God might answer a different question than the one you're answering. If we're asking why all these people are out to get us, God might turn that around to cause us to think about who is asking that question about us. If we are asking why we can't have that new car or jet ski or trip to Disneyland, God might be reminding us all the things we have to be grateful for. If we are asking why me, why am I sick, why am I struggling with finances, God does have compassion and teaches us then to have compassion for others who are worse off. 

If we stand around waiting for our due, for people to appreciate us and all our hard work, we may be waiting an awful long time. The Disciples are sure that they deserve something as a reward for their good work. Instead a child gets rewarded, singled out as a focus. Give others the very basic of human respect, a welcome, because that is something we've already received from God, and there is one sure way that God's welcome gets spread among all those whom God loves and that is to welcome them ourselves. 

I am interested in the Syrian refugees that will be coming to our area. I was watching the news last night and Lutheran Community Services was mentioned many times because they help place refugees all the time. We are going to get a chance to test this welcome and extend it as far as possible. This may not be popular among many Americans, receiving Syrians in our midst, but here are people who have suffered, some of them children who probably looked very much like this kid Jesus took in his arms. These Syrians have risked life and lost everything, but they will stand here at long last and give thanks to God for saving them and taking a new opportunity not to ask why is everyone out to get me, but thank you God that I am alive and my child is alive. Now how can we give back? May we learn from the Syrians and from the children that God is the greatest who came as a servant and what our taking a role of a servant can do to open our hard hearts and change our focus from what is trivial to what really matters, which is the outpouring of love that brings the flourishing of life.

September 13, 2015

Gospel: Mark 27-37 1^st Reading: Isaiah 50:4-9a 2^nd Reading: James 3:1-12

Last week on our camping trip, we woke in the middle of the night to pouring down rain. We were prepared with our tarp over our tent and our food and utensils packed safely in the car. In the morning it was still pouring, so we went out to breakfast and then to the 70 millimeter film The Sound of Music. I've seen the Sound of Music 8 or 10 times and I know most of the words to the songs. But it really wasn't until I saw it this time that I connected with a deeper message of the film. You probably all noticed this a long time ago, but sometimes it takes me a while to catch on. What I noticed was pull in Baron VonTrapp between the values of this world as represented by Baroness Schrader and higher godly values as represented by Maria. The Baroness was so attractive and rich. She is who everyone would expect he would marry. She was powerful. But she was cold and unloving. She was planning to send the kids to boarding school.

Maria, on the other hand, represented God's values. She had learned as a postulant in the Abbey to “Find out the will of God, and to do it.” She was poor in money and fashion, but she was focused on God's will and values, and had a lot of love to give and she told the truth, even when the truth was hard to hear. She told the Baron about his own children and reunited the family into a good balance where they began to enjoy each other's company and to communicate. She would not have been the expected choice for him to marry.

This struggle of the Baron's was one he was fighting in his political life, as well. Should he do what everyone else expected him to and follow the violent values of this world or should he follow his own heart and his own values? In the end we can see that if he had married the Baroness, perhaps he would have turned his back on his own values and become an officer in the Nazi military, but because he married Maria, because she was always strong and outspoken and true to her values, he knew he had to be as well, so, of course, they fled Austria. 

Maria was not known for holding her tongue, if you remember the film. She often got herself in trouble because she was so outspoken. Our readings for today, are all about the power of speech and the words we say, but also the difficulty in controlling our words. 

Speech is powerful. Words can hurt us so deeply—scar us for life. Things our parents said to us or that children said to us when we were young still echo through our minds. We remember the sting of criticism or the elation when we were praised. One can “sustain the weary with a word,” according to Isaiah. But also a rumor can spread like a forest fire, according to James, and cause mass destruction. Worse than anything that has ever been said to me, is the memory of things I have said without thinking. I once told another pastor who had just started to grow a beard that he looked like a homeless person. He didn't choose to take this with humor. I once asked a person how far along she was, when she wasn't pregnant. But the same thing has happened to me, and I was standing in a donut shop, so I have to forgive myself this human mistake, and it was a long time before we got donut again! 

I am proud to be an introvert. I process my thoughts internally in quiet. I enjoy being by myself and having time to think things through. I get in less trouble that way. When I was a kid, I was so introverted, when I had to make a phone call, I would write down everything I needed to say, and really psych myself up, because it was so overwhelming to me. I still sometimes write out whole scripts of what I need to say when I am stressed, so that I feel prepared and don't just shut down. Although I am an introvert, I have entered a profession where I have to do quite a bit of public speaking and be social. Maybe that is part of what attracted me to being a pastor, is that I have to force myself to interact more and I do get a lot out of meeting people and hearing their stories. Of course, introversion and extroversion are more of a continuum than all or nothing. As the pastor, with a seminary education, with a visible leadership role, people sometimes look to me to tell them what to think or say or believe. I might have some context for some reading from the Bible that might be helpful, and I try to offer that, when I do. But for me, I see my role more as helping people learn to express what they think and believe and to discuss that with each other. As I look around a room, say at Bible Study or a meeting, I am figuring out who has more power in the room and who has less, who has spoken the most and who the least, who might have a story to share that we haven't heard yet. Usually, I am one of the most powerful in the room, so it isn't time for me to share more. I get tired of my own stories, I want to hear from someone else. As a more powerful member of the group, it is a better use of my power to keep quiet and let other people talk.

In the Sound of Music, Maria ends up talking a lot and Baron Von Trapp very little. My guess is that this is a reversal of what the Baron was expecting. He was used to giving orders and being in charge. He was the most powerful. But Maria had a rudder that was directing her. She was heading toward stormy seas by butting heads with the Baron, but she had values that needed to be upheld and she knew they would lead to a happier household if she held firm. She went through that storm and came out the other side. She said what needed to be said, the truth, and she let the family decide how that would affect them. The Baron could have chosen to stay the course, but he let her affect him. The more powerful one stayed silent as the less powerful one spoke on behalf of those who had no voice at all, the children. And because of that, a household covered in a shroud of grief, emerged with new life and new relationships and new communication in which love was shared and life flourished.

How can we tame our tongues? If we have a truth that needs to be told, how can we tame our tongues to tell it and how can we tell it, so it can be heard? If we talk too much, how do we know and how can we shut our mouths? If we are introverts, how can we get ourselves to share a little bit more? If we like to gossip, how do we keep that in check? If we tear down other people with our words but worship God, how do we get our mouths and hearts to be consistent? How can we waken our ears to be better listeners?

Maybe the confession of who Jesus is will remind us of who we are. Maybe when we are more grounded in who we are as children of God and know that we are safe within that framework, we don't have to be afraid, which is where a lot of forest fires of gossip and misunderstanding start. Maybe if we understand communication better, we can use it better to listen to those who never get a chance to share their story. Maybe practice makes perfect and that's why we keep on coming here to practice each week. Sometimes we offend each other. Sometimes we have completely different styles. Sometimes we keep the communication superficial. Sometimes we just can't seem to work together. But we keep working on it. And we keep practicing listening. We hold periods of silence within worship to provide time to listen. We listen to different pieces of music by the choir or Karen. We listen to each other's prayers. We try to respond in helpful ways. And we try to tame our tongues to match what God has placed in our hearts, so that what we say matches our values, and use our power to give voice to the voiceless.

Peter is walking with Jesus in Caesarea. There are some ominous clouds on the horizon. The authorities are trying to trap Jesus. He's already in a lot of trouble. But Peter is starting to get it. Jesus is the Messiah. Peter finally says it. He looks at Jesus to see if it is true. It is. Peter has confessed what he knew in his heart. He stands in the presence of God. But Peter doesn't understand about God's values. God is not going to try convincing everyone with words or violent strength or even self-defense of who God is. God is showing in vulnerability who God is. God's values are in sharing power and love and life, not destruction and weapons and force. Those must be our values, too. When we are powerful, we must share that power by listening. When we are less powerful, we must share our stories of being persecuted and suffering, not to whine, but so that the world knows we are all out of synch with God's values and the world can change for the good of everyone.

When I was in Nicaragua, I remember one Sunday School lesson with the kids, they were asked, “What is prayer?” And these elementary school kids answered, quite profoundly, “Communication with God.” I don't know that I could have summed it up so simply. To pray is to communicate with God, both talking and listening. When we communicate with each other, we know that God is with us, listening. Our communication with one another might be characterized as prayer, especially when we share something deep and profound and real. Some have argued that the Earth is God manifesting God's self to us in all God's complexity. And some have said that Earth is now trying to communicate something urgent to us. That is, that Earth is ill and her illness is caused by human action. There are things we can do to provide healing, not only for Earth and the creatures that are dying off, but for human kind, the Earth creature that God made on the 6^th day that suffers greatly because of the ill health of our home planet. Perhaps the cry and groan of the earth is a kind a prayer, a communication with God, asking for our most deep listening yet, to hard truths about death and resurrection, about giving something up for the sake of the healing and thriving of all life on Earth. Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed, the powerful one sharing power with us and showing us how to share power with others so that all might thrive, teaching us to bite our tongues so that others can tell their stories and remake ourselves and this world more in line with God's values of life and love for all.

August 23, 2015

August 23, 2015 Gospel: John 6:56-69 1^st Reading: Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18

2^nd Reading: Ephesians 6:10-20

What did you have for breakfast this morning? If you're like me, you ate it absent-mindedly. I like to read the internet while I eat. Nick is likes to sleep in as long as he can most mornings. He often urges me to be quiet with my bowl and spoon. He calls it the “bell bowl” because of the sound the spoon makes against the bowl while I am absent-mindedly eating my breakfast. 

Every once in a while I try to eat a meal with more intention. It makes even plain old oatmeal so much more interesting to let my imagination wander through the millions of years it took for oatmeal to develop, from the exploding stars in space that provided the elements and atoms that now come together in this food, to the formation of the earth and the gathering and organization of those elements and atoms, water gathering on earth, life appearing, plants appearing, natural selection determining which survive and which don't, separating the grasses from the broad leaf plants, becoming just attractive enough for animals to use them to get around, but not so attractive as to be completely destroyed. And God, the author of life, overseeing it all—this beautiful dance of creation leading up to this moment, when all these billions of years of creativity become a bite in my mouth, and not stopping there. This plant, a product of God's life-giving power, being gnawed upon by a jaw and teeth developed over hundreds of millions of years through many kinds of creatures ancestors of mine over the ages, then swallowed, and digested by still other creatures with their own DNA and purpose, the pieces of this plant absorbed into the bloodstream and traveling through the body to be used by the cells, transformed into energy to be used. Through the sacrifice of this grain of oatmeal I lift my arm, my body stays warm, I live and act. I am a part of something from the past billions of years up until now, and I go on, move forward into the future, part of a community of people and creatures that continue to work together to make sure that life flourishes and that all are empowered to be the amazing creatures God designs them to be.

But sometimes fear stops me from fully being the creature God designed me to be. I dwell a little too long on my powerlessness. I might be more easily persuaded to eat something that doesn't give me as much life as oatmeal. I might believe what the commercials tell me about Special K—how I'll be more attractive and thinner and better if I eat that food. Or maybe I'll just eat a donut because I don't consider my self worth food with actual vitamins and fiber and life in it, or to take the time to cook myself a bowl of oatmeal or I forget that eating right is important enough to risk waking my husband up with my bowl and spoon. Or maybe oatmeal just gets a little too difficult for me—I have to prepare it—cook it, chew it, digest it. Maybe I just don't have time for that anymore, so I give up. 

But I always find that if I eat something other than oatmeal, it just isn't as satisfying. I get hungry before lunch time or I feel worse physically. There's a reason they call it the most important meal of the day.

Jesus Disciples were feeding on his word. They were hanging on his words. They were following him around, having several daily meals of Jesus and his words. Many of them recognized that before Jesus, they just hadn't been satisfied. They didn't feel connected. In fact they felt powerless and hopeless. Now they are chewing this food daily and Jesus was pointing out to them what it meant to eat this food. It meant always being connected to Israel's history of needing God, of not being self-sufficient, of not being able to do it themselves, and of finding God faithful and loving and saving and leading them forward into new life and new relationships, and of God expecting certain things of them and that was to honor the connectedness of life and the sacredness of life and the flourishing of life—the continuity of life of which we are all apart and which God placed responsibility upon us to see that it continues. This kind of connected life meant remembering the history of the people and of this sacred earth, the kind of story told in our Old Testament Reading for this morning. This history shows the sacredness of all creation. It meant remembering those who are not usually valued for the life they have in them, but only for what they can do for others. It meant honoring those whose life seems insignificant. For God, the measure of a life was not riches or power or strength or armor, but vulnerability and connectedness and love and acceptance of each one of their place within a larger connected web, a part of what has gone before, and humbly thankful of being connected for the flourishing of life into the future. 

But some of Jesus' followers thought this was too difficult and they took off. They don't want to admit that they need nourishment of body and soul and that others grow and pick their food and get it to their table or that others are necessary for the nourishment of their inner life, their spiritual life. They don't want to think of the deeper story of their food or anything else that gives them life. Instead of admitting we are all connected, all people and all creation, it felt easier to them to throw in the towel and they didn't go around with Jesus anymore. So Jesus asked the other Disciples if they would also like to hit the road. But even though they don't really get what it means for Jesus to be the Holy One of God and to gnaw on his flesh and rely on God and to take up their cross and to follow him, they are willing to keep gnawing on his words and see where this leads, because so far they are beginning to feel connected, feeling challenged, using parts of their brains and lives that they had never expected to, and seeing a little bit of a different world, a better world.

Everywhere they went, they would have seen the Roman Army in their shields and belts and boots and breastplates, bringing fear to those they ruled, breaking down the connections between all forms of life, contributing to the destruction of all that God had created, rather than the flourishing of life of all creatures. But Jesus' way was an alternative that was working for them, leaving them satisfied. And they didn't just have their own satisfaction in mind. They saw those who were without anyone to care for them or love them or share life with them, like those who were sick or blind or helpless, Jesus was sharing life and power with them, and the disciples could participate in that, too. Now suddenly life is flourishing where it was a desert, where no one dared to go, now there was praise and worship, joy, hope, giving, sharing, connectedness.

I'm sure Jesus' Disciples were tempted to take up arms and put on armor because the destructive powers of that day were so strong and real and certainly they were afraid for their lives and wanted to protect themselves and their loved ones. And the destructive powers of our own day are also very real and we want to protect ourselves and our loved ones from them. We've got mental illness and depression, hunger, mass extinction, addiction, loneliness and isolation, distractions. Sometimes we just say, this is too difficult, I give up. We feel alone, we get tired, we can't see that we're making any difference. We've all given up on Jesus, failed Jesus, abandoned him. And still he abides. Jesus has the sticking power, the gumption, the thick skin. Maybe not today, but by the end, when it came to the cross, every last Disciple has answered his question, “Do you also wish to go away?” with the same answer--”Heck, yeah. I'm out of here. I don't want to die! I don't want to hurt. I don't want to be challenged this much. I am afraid. This is too hard.” We expect Jesus to reject us, but he has a thick skin. He doesn't take it personally. He just says, “No one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” It is up to God. And Jesus continues on his mission to bring life to all and connection to all. 

Jesus takes off every defense, lays down any arms, his shield and boots and belt are taken from him, and he goes vulnerable and naked, beaten and mocked to the cross to die. The Romans knew he had power or they wouldn't have taken the trouble to try to destroy him. They would not have crucified him if they didn't think he was a threat to their kind of power over and a power to break connections. So there he hung, dying at their hands and as his flesh suffered and his blood was shed, he did not lose his power, because his power was in relationships and connections which went deeper even than his own breath or pulse. His power was in the truth that everything is connected, it was in his righteousness as he valued all that God gave life to, it was in his faith that helped him choose what was life-giving to all creatures, it was in his love. Jesus was there at the beginning of creation, the Word spoken over the waters that brought everything into existence. He knew the truth of the flourishing of life, that we need each other, and we are all related. He was part of those atoms exploding and elements forming. He saw the water bring forth life and the earth bring forth creatures

and plants of every kind. He was there as the oat plant changed over millions of years and as animals and humankind discovered the life it shared. And he came to be among us to show us the interconnectedness of everything, that we don't just rely on ourselves, but that we need each other, we are not alone. As it turned out, it was granted by the Father that we should all come to him and become children of God and eat him and eat with him, and be gnawed on.

The most important meal of the day for the flesh may be breakfast, but the most important meal of the day for our spirit is Jesus, which we physically eat each Sunday when we gather and which we constantly experience in our daily lives. We live because of him and we share life, love, and connectedness because of him. When we realize our place in this amazing creation, where we've come from and where we're going, the flourishing of life that makes our life possible, the sacrifice that Jesus makes when he takes a human place in this world, even plain old oatmeal becomes exciting, even ordinary bread and wine, even ordinary trees and grass. We come from a flourishing of life-giving power, and now we get to share that flourishing of life, make choices that contribute to the flourishing of life, and accept the challenging task of accepting Jesus' presence and power and life with us. 

Truly, “Lord, to whom shall we go?” There is nowhere we can flee from God's presence, for God is with us, even when we turn our backs. In every star, in every animal, in every person, in every voice, we find God's words of eternal life, flourishing life, life valued and shared and risked and treasured until every fiber of our being says thanks and opens to the life and love God is offering.