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Monday, November 30, 2015
November 29, 2015
Gospel: Luke
21:25-36
1st Reading: Jeremiah 33:14-16
2nd Reading: 1 Thessalonians
3:9-13
“There will be
signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress
among the nations. People will faint from fear and foreboding of
what is coming upon the world.” It seems like every generation has
its beliefs about the destruction and end of the world. It seems we
can always find a reason to faint from fear.
In Jesus' time, in
this prediction in the Gospel, he may have been referring to his own
death. He was trying to prepare his disciples for his crucifixion,
with the earthquake and eclipse, the days of uncertainty and fear
when they would find themselves huddled in the upper room trying to
figure out what to do next. He may have even been preparing them for
the earth-shattering news that he is risen and that life is
completely changed.
For the Gospel
writer Luke, his audience was concerned with the destruction of the
temple. For Jews, the temple is the center of the universe. If the
temple falls, then the whole cosmos is at risk. Luke's readers had
seen that destruction and now they were very afraid. It looked like
the end of the world to them. They were very afraid.
In the 50s it was
the threat of nuclear war. In our time it is the fear that we will
change our climate so dramatically that we won't survive. Every
generation has its fears about the end of the world.
Watching the news
about the ISIS attacks in France a couple of weeks ago, brings up a
lot of fears for us. Is it safe to go to public places this
Christmas season? Should our country accept refugees? Who can keep
us safe?
In the face of such
hatred and violence, including the violence our own country has done
to those less powerful than us, to innocent people, it is easy to get
discouraged. It is scary and overwhelming. Our faith gives us the
strength not to let the fearful situation, whatever it is, dictate
who we are. When the whole world is telling us to be fearful, we
know how to find hope.
We have a choice
about how we respond. As Christians, we have some tools in our
toolbox to help us in times like this. One is the scriptures,
stories of hope in the face of fear, which promise the presence and
love and new life of God, no matter the circumstances. They tell us
of Jesus who endured what any of us do and worse. We are not alone.
Death is not the end. We have so much to be grateful for. We have a
cosmic story to explain where sin and brokenness comes from,
assurance of forgiveness and freedom, how to stand up and raise our
heads when we are oppressed or afraid, and how God is ultimately the
one with power. We know fear and death won't be the end of the
story, that love is the real power in our world.
In Jesus' time, the
disciples were afraid. But he did not leave them to shake and shiver
in their room. He came and gave them the fire and boldness of the
Holy Spirit, God's spirit with them for new life. Sure enough, they
were able to go out from there, overcome their weaknesses and spread
the good news. We
can choose love instead. Love can be our motivating factor, and when
it is, the Kingdom of God is near and we are near to one another.
In Luke's time, the
temple was destroyed, however people were learning that the location
of God didn't depend on human buildings. Jesus located the temple in
his body, he was God's presence here on earth, and when he introduced
the Holy Spirit each person became a dwelling place for God. I have
a quote from Archbishop Oscar Romero to share with you. “Advent
should admonish us to discover in each brother or sister that we
greet, in each friend whose hand we shake, in each beggar who asks
for bread, in each worker who wants to use the right to join a union,
in each peasant who looks for work in the coffee groves, the face of
Christ. Then it would not be possible to rob them, to cheat them, to
deny them their rights. They are Christ, and whatever is done to
them Christ will take as done to himself. This is what Advent is:
Christ living among us.” This is partly about Christ being born in
Bethlehem or into our lives, and partly how Christ dwells in each one
of us in love and how to recognize that and honor that.
I
don't know if you saw the youtube clip of the little French boy a
couple of days after the Paris attacks. This kid is probably about 4
or 5 years old. He tells the reporter they will have to move away
because of the bad guys. His dad says, no, they are not moving.
There would be bad guys no matter where they lived. The boy and his
dad are placing flowers at a memorial that day. He explains to his
son that yes, the bad guys have guns, but the boy and his dad have
flowers. He explains to his little boy that flowers are stronger than
guns, that they are more powerful. He's talking about love and hope
being more powerful than fear and hate, and even though hate kills,
this father reassures his boy that love will win the day. It is a
very moving conversation.
I
remember in the hours after Sterling was born, my mind was racing.
Images kept flashing across my mind—scary images of all the bad
things that could happen to him. My hormone levels were changing
fast in those first hours, as they do for all new moms. Thankfully,
I had the support I needed, and I had some experience battling worry
and negative thoughts in the past. I had to force myself to imagine
all the wonderful things that would happen to him in his life. I
pictured him learning and playing, discovering and appreciating,
giving and receiving hugs and kisses, meeting family and friends,
graduating, growing up, falling in love, having children, eating
countless delicious meals, watching the clouds, feeling the breeze
and on and on until I had retrained my brain in a new direction. I
was anticipating the blessings that would likely come. Yes, bad
things happen, too, but it doesn't do me any good to immerse myself
in my fears. I knew I didn't want to raise a fearful child. I
didn't want to be the anxious parent that my parents had been.
It
is easy for our heads to be filled with fearful images, worry, and
anxiety. But is that really who we want to be? What good will it
do? Is this what we want to define us? We have so much reason to
have hope.
We
have a couple of other tools in our toolbox. One, we practiced this
week, gratefulness. We can give thanks. We can practice
thanksgiving. When worries overtake us, one of the best things we
can do is start thinking of everything we are grateful for.
The
second thing we can do is practice generosity. When we give to
others, we forget our fears, we remember our blessings, we don't have
time to feel sorry for ourselves. When we volunteer, when we wrap
gifts for The Angel Tree Project, as we carry groceries for someone
or help our neighbor rake her leaves, our fears don't seem so scary.
There
is another form of generosity we sometimes forget, we can be generous
about how we interpret another person's actions. We can see the best
in others. When we think of Syrian refugees, do we picture people
who can do us harm and will take something away from us? We have a
choice. I saw on the news a picture of refugees in the US serving
homeless veterans on Thanksgiving. There is a positive image of
people who are being vilified. Can we visualize all the good that
can come from refugees—all that we will learn, all that we can
gain?
Think
of Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, walking from place to place looking
for shelter and a place to safely deliver the Christ Child. Maybe
some did see them and think, there's no way we're letting those
people in here. She looks like she's about to pop. The fear, the
risk, the noise, the mess of a baby born there in their home. Maybe
that's why they ended up out there with the animals. When God comes
knocking on our door in whatever the form, whether it be a refugee,
or a veteran with PTSD, or a kid with a juice stain on his upper lip,
we have a choice. We can worry about what we will lose. We can slam
that door and decide it isn't worth the mess or the time, and we will
miss out on Christ in our midst. Or we can picture some good coming
out of it, healing, relationship, love, hope, growth, and let Christ
in.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
November 22, 2015, 50th Anniversary Sermon
Gospel: John
18:33-37
1st Reading: Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14
2nd Reading: Revelation
1:4b-8
A couple of us were
joking the other day about changing the name of our church. Don't
worry, we're not serious, but the word “king” is so removed from
most people's experience that it can be hard to relate to, and then
we've got it twice! We don't have kings, so we don't know much about
living in a kingdom. Most of what I have gleaned about kings has
come from fairy tales or Shakespeare plays. So far I've learned they
are either really good or really bad, lots of times regular peasants
are smarter than they are, and they are concerned about gold and who
their daughter is going to marry. Is that what people think when
they see our church sign or look at our website? It's a pretty
male-centric name for a church in which women have such an important
role. I do like that our name is focussed on the positive, that it
is focussed on God. And I'm really glad, no offense to anyone else,
that we aren't named First Lutheran or English Lutheran or something
really stuffy. Our language has limits and it can be hard to find
words that stand the test of time and convey what we're really about
and who God really is.
There are actually
many names for Jesus in the reading from Revelation this morning,
because the writer was trying to make a long enough list that there
would be something we could connect with, that would make sense.
Some of these names are more Hellenistic, others are more from the
Hebrew tradition. The writer covers a lot of bases with the various
names for God offered here. We could be Faithful Witness Lutheran
Church, Firstborn of the Dead Lutheran Church, Ruler of Kings
Lutheran Church, Alpha and Omega Lutheran Church, or Almighty
Lutheran Church. All of them have their limitations, don't they!
And don't even get me started on how limiting and misunderstood the
term “Lutheran” is!
So here we are at
Christ the King Sunday, and our 50th Anniversary, still
asking who God is and who we are. And we get to look over the whole
history of this congregation, share memories with guests from over
the years, and experience a worship service that was similar to the
first one ever, and read these ancient scriptures about what it means
that Jesus is not only a king but the king of kings. What does it
mean that we pray every week, “Thy Kingdom come?” What does it
mean to live in and long for the Kingdom of God.
People are hungry
in our neighborhood. 117 families came here this month to get food.
We live in a world where at least a third of our food gets wasted
from the farm, to grocery stores, to our refrigerators and cupboards,
to our plates. We waste all this food and there are people who could
really use it. Thy Kingdom come!
We had all these
families come through this church this month, sitting in a warm
environment, building community, helping each other. One long-time
client came in to the office with an offer to put out the signs that
we place in the parking lot on distribution days to make sure that
our volunteers who have a harder time walking have a place to park
near the building. He shared that he's lost about 50 lbs. He's on
the last possible chemotherapy and he will probably die from it. We
talked and shared each other's pain. We prayed. And then as people
went to pick up their turkeys that were provided through the generous
gift of one of our volunteers, they thanked us over and over, saying
how much this meant to them. God's Kingdom is here.
We are destroying
our planet, using it as a dump, stripping it of natural resources,
ruining habitats, burning fossil fuels, and changing our climate.
Storms are getting stronger. The ocean is rising. Coral reefs are
dying. People are getting sick from pollution. We're in a mass
extinction. Thy Kingdom come.
And people are
getting together to make a change. Some are taking the pledge not to
use pesticides in their yards. As a Master Gardener it is part of my
responsibility to make people aware of the dangers of pesticide use
and what the alternatives are. Some are using solar or wind power.
Some are doing beach and waterways cleanups. Some are downsizing
their households or going to only one car in their household. Some
are dangling from bridges to see that oil exploration vessels can't
pass. Some are planting gardens and trees. Others are riding their
bicycles or taking mass transit. I was grateful the other day, when
I had an appointment downtown, to park at the end of the Orange line
and let the Max take me to my destination. God's kingdom is here.
We are a small
church. Sometimes we get insecure about our future. Our average age
is getting up there. We don't have Sunday School. We don't have a
lot of money. Thy Kingdom come.
Yet, we're not
alone. Look at all the lives we've influenced and have influenced
us. We're much bigger than just who comes here on Sundays. You all
are out there visiting the sick and homebound. This congregation
more than tithes to other ministries, such as Backpack Buddies, the
Pantry, and Lutheran World Relief. People here really care about
each other. We're in partnership with other churches. And we're not
just existing and making sure we survive, but we are listening to
Jesus and responding to the needs of our neighbors. God's kingdom is
here.
We're watching our
presidential candidates duke it out on TV every other week to try to
gain power and influence. They are blinded, sometimes by greed,
sometimes by fear, and other times by pride or hubris. Sometimes
they tell us what we want to hear. Sometimes they are so hateful and
angry. Not many of us see anyone we can relate to or respect. Thy
kingdom come!
Grassroots
organizations are working together to make changes in our
neighborhoods. Neighbors are helping each other. And we're all
rolling our eyes at these candidates. We know by now that none of
them can save us. But we have power to make a difference when we
know each other and work together. So that's where we're going to
put our energy. We have a new Social Justice Committee. Through
MACG, we are looking into ways we can work together with the young
moms from Madonna's Center down the street to make policy changes so
they can get housing for themselves and their new babies, even if
they aren't 18, yet. God's Kingdom is here.
God's Kingdom come!
God's Kingdom is here. This is the already and not yet of the
scriptures, God with us and God's reign not fully realized. It is
frustrating and confusing to live in the in-between, but it also is a
better way of thinking about our complex situation than saying it is
all or nothing.
The word King
doesn't cover it all, by any means. But it does come from the same
root as the word “kin,” like family. And some have replaced the
word Kingdom with Kindom in Christian prayers, to say that it isn't
about a male person who happens to inherit a throne, but about a
family of people who care for each other and make sure that each
person is valued and loved. That's the good news for this morning.
Wherever we worship, however we serve, we are in God's family,
created good and loved and given abundant life. So maybe Kin
Lutheran Church might be appropriate. Or I was suggesting Servant of
Servants Lutheran Church, then at least we would be SOS instead of
KOK. I think we'll stick with our name for now. Our community knows
us by that name. And it is not just about us, but about the 50 years
of servants that have gathered under this name.
About two weeks
ago, a van pulled up in front of our house and a couple of women were
standing on the sidewalk, looking up at our tree and talking quite
excitedly. We were just pulling in the driveway and getting our
groceries into the house. They were visiting from out of town. They
lived in our house as little girls. Nick showed them the backyard
and they talked about climbing a cherry tree that used to grow there.
Thankfully I had done two loads of dishes that morning, so I could
feel mostly comfortable inviting them in. They were so surprised and
delighted. They were so polite, they never would have asked to come
in. They talked about hiding in the cupboard and falling out of
their bunk bed. They walked around the house reliving their memories
and taking pictures to show their ailing mom back home. I had always
wondered who lived there, and now I know one more piece of the
puzzle.
Well, others have
lived here, and these are our guests who have come to look around and
share memories and worship God together. I have sometimes wondered
how the charter members or the other names I see written in the
registry thought of this place and what were the expectations and how
did it strengthened or frustrated them, and how God spoke to people
here, over the years. And now you are here. Welcome. Your very
presence shows that you were touched by this place and maybe you are
curious who is living in your old house. Well, the one thing that
has stayed the same is that Jesus is here. Not that he's not other
places as well, but he is the one this house belongs to, he is the
one we thank, he is the one who has remained the same. He is the one
who has continued to be alive and to rule and to serve. Whatever
good has come from this place is because of Jesus and because of
love. Through us or despite us, at the same time, God has shared
abundant life here. We don't know what the future brings, but only
that Jesus walks among us empowering us, challenging us, and loving
us, and when this place is no longer here and long after we are gone
from this earth, Jesus will continue to reign, our King of Kings, our
example of servanthood, bringing abundant life until his reign is
fully realized.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
November 15, 2015
Gospel: Mark
13:1-8
1st Reading: Daniel 12:1-3
2nd
Reading Hebrews 10:11-25
I've had a song stuck in my head all
week. It's part of the opening credits to a show I like called “The
Leftovers” about a bunch of people left behind after a mysterious,
rapture-like disappearance of millions of people from the earth. The
song was written by Iris Dement in 1993 and it goes like this:
Everybody's wonderin' what and where
they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say once you're gone you're gone forever, and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Savior if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden, bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say once you're gone you're gone forever, and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Savior if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden, bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
It isn't always easy to let the
mystery be. We humans are curious by nature. We want to know how
things work and how they are going to turn out. The people in the
book of Daniel were getting frustrated. They were in a time of great
persecution—Judaism had been outlawed, the temple desecrated, and
their leaders co-opted. But they didn't see the people who were
hurting them get what was coming to them. They noticed that life
wasn't fair. Good things happened to bad people and bad things
happen to good people and it didn't make any sense. So this is the
first time that people were thinking of an afterlife. If it doesn't
happen in this life that people get what they deserve, then maybe it
is in the next life that people are rewarded or punished in heaven or
hell.
Maybe it sounds like they aren't
letting the mystery be as the song suggests. They are actually
imagining one possible end to this terrible situation they are in
that might work for them.
Sterling has nightmares a few times a
month. One person suggested to me that it might be helpful to have
him imagine another possible ending to the dream than the scary one
he experienced. He is finally old enough now that he can do that.
Maybe the Jewish people here can bear their situation by imagining
some outcomes that they can live with. Maybe their vision of another
outcome would be enough to give them hope to go on. How can they not
let the political situation of that time derail their faith and make
them give up? How can they not let the injustice distract them from
their focus on serving and loving God? They don't just picture the
demise of their enemies, but they picture their guardian angel,
Michael, looking over them, as well as the wise shining brightly and
being recognized, and those who lead many to righteousness shining
like the stars. In those days, folks thought the stars were angels
in the sky. The heavens, the realm of God, seemed so far away, yet
visible, accessible. Many people I know today, still look up at the
stars and see their loved one who has passed away watching over them.
Some even have a particular star they associate with their loved
one. This brings those who seem far away, near enough to feel the
comfort of their presence. The shining of the righteous ones is a
beautiful outcome and alternate story to the nightmare they were
living.
The people that the Gospel writer Mark
was writing to also were in some scary times. Probably the temple
had been destroyed. There were wars and rumors of wars. There were
earthquakes and famines. They could picture one possible outcome to
all of this—everything they new would be destroyed and their faith
would falter. But Jesus offers them a hopeful picture. He tells
them another ending to their story to give them hope and preserve
them in faith. He says not to put their hope in things that are
temporary, even impressive buildings. And he tells them that all
these scary things are not an end, but a beginning. They are “but
the beginning of the birth pangs.” Something new is being born.
Even though it is a scary time, this is also a hopeful time. He
doesn't tell them exactly what will be born. He leaves that to their
imaginations, so each can take the story where God leads them, but
they know it will be different from what has been going on, those who
persecute them won't be in power anymore, God's good purpose will be
fulfilled, something new will be born that will be good.
This week, we celebrated Veterans Day.
I can't imagine the nightmare that soldiers experience in war. I am
sure that they must hold a vision of a different future than the
violent one they see before them in order to endure. I have heard
that soldiers hold first in their minds their brothers and sisters in
arms. They give their all for the well-being of the soldiers
fighting beside them. Certainly, they hold in mind the welfare of
their loved ones back home. And finally, they picture their country,
free and bold, caring for all within our borders, protecting those in
need, providing meaningful work and progress, as well as the beauty
of our nation, the mountains and forests, rivers and fields. What a
beautiful vision to give hope, an ending to this nightmare that they
could live with and even thrive in.
And as we all watched the news all
weekend, it makes us feel helpless and afraid. Maybe we picture our
enemies being destroyed, but more than that I think God tells us not
to lose hope, that justice will be served, and that one day we'll all
sit down together at one table, understand and value each other, and
live in peace and unity. It seems impossible right now. There is a
lot of grieving to do, a lot yet to be sorted out. But God is with
all of us as hurting people, whatever country we are from, or
whatever our religion.
Even the reading from Hebrews helps
people envision a different future. Have you ever been disappointed
by your priest and wondered why you keep coming to worship week after
week when nothing ever seems to change and people are hypocritical?
Are there times you've felt unworthy of God's love? Do you sometimes
feel that nothing lasts? Do you get frustrated by all the injustice
and hate all around us? We're not going to gloss over it and pretend
that its all right. We're going to find a way to hold fast to hope
and that is to look to Jesus Christ.
Let Jesus be your hope. Let him offer
an alternate ending to the story that causes the paralyzing fear that
we constantly live with. Christ is the one who always has been and
always will be, the reliable one. Christ is one who judges and
forgives, who invites us into his family, who knows what we're going
through, who gave it all up for us. Christ is the powerful one, who
is the source of all creativity, who is the breath of God moving in
this world, who brings life out of death. Christ is our hope. He
always fulfills his promises. He is always present with us. He is
compassionate and loving.
The temptation is not to let the
mystery be or to let God's alternate vision guide us, but to decide
who is at fault and what all the answers are, right away. In our
fear, we sometimes think that violence is the answer, swift and
strong. Sometimes we move so quickly to blaming that we never look
at our own complacency or our own country's roll in training killers
or making weapons that destroy. It is hard to let the mystery be and
say, “I just don't know. I don't know why someone would do this.
I don't know the proper response that won't just make things worse.
I don't know. But I do hurt, and not just for the people of France
who look more like me, but the people of Kenya and Syria and Baghdad
where this kind of violence is more commonplace.” And when we do
watch the footage of people running in fear, that we also have in
mind God's vision where there will be no more crying, where the wolf
will lie down with the lamb, where all will be fed and loved.
The point is not to get distracted
from our journey of faith by fearful visions and nightmares that lead
us astray. Instead, if we can let ourselves picture that goal of
what the Kingdom of God looks like, we won't lose our way. We'll be
able to enter the sanctuary with confidence, not because of anything
we've done, but because of who Jesus is and the welcome he offers.
We'll be able to hold fast to our confession of hope instead of
getting led astray by those who promise to save us with false
promises and fancy buildings. We'll be able to provoke each other to
good deeds, inspire one another to keep going, to try to make a
difference. And we'll be able to encourage one another and ourselves
in the process. God has a beautiful vision which God is bringing into
being. We can catch glimpses of it, as God Kingdom comes, breaks
into our world. It is a vision of peace and love and it isn't just a
dream, but it is a promised reality that is yet to fully become, but
we can catch glimpses of it. We see it when people help each other,
when people share something of themselves and connect with one
another. Jesus is our most clear glimpse of God's Kingdom, always
inviting, giving of himself, staying connected, offering healing,
offering relationship, and never blaming or resorting to violence.
Instead he lived God's love until it was more than people could
stand. And when we killed him, he did not come back to give us what
we deserved, but loved us and claimed us God's precious children.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
November 8, 2015
Gospel: Mark
12:38-44
1st Reading: 1 Kings 17:8-16
1st Reading: 1 Kings 17:8-16
2nd Reading: Hebrews 9:24-28
“As Jesus taught, he said, 'Beware
of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be
greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats
in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour
widows' houses.'” The truth of this teaching of Jesus always
brings up a lot of emotions for me. First, I always think of some of
the televangelists from the '70s and '80s who were very rich, with
mansions and limos, pleading and crying and reading scripture to
manipulate poor widows at home to send them their last dime. This
makes me so angry. But I also feel ashamed, because I as a pastor
get lumped in with these thieves, and I know that's what some people
think of when they think of religion or church—religious leaders
swindling people out of what little they have to line their own
pockets. Now, thankfully we have safeguards in our congregation and
in our larger church structure to make sure that donations actually
go where we say they do and that people are not shamed or manipulated
into giving. There is transparency to our budget and a
congregational discussion and vote about where the money goes that
each of you donates. I am quite proud of the amount of money this
congregation gives away to those in need, both the pantry and in a
tithe to the Oregon Synod and national church, who feed the poor,
fund ministry grants, give scholarships and camperships, provide
mosquito nets and emergency relief from natural disasters. Lutheran
World Relief consistently receives the highest marks for the greatest
percentage of gifts going to help people in need. They keep their
administrative costs low and work through partner agencies on the
ground in the particular area experiencing the need to make sure that
the local culture is honored and actual needs met during a particular
crisis.
The other thing this reading brings to
mind is income disparity and the gap between the poor and the
rich—the way the rich control more and more of the world's wealth.
The economy is set up this way, to benefit a few. It wasn't always
this way. The early years of this nation's capitalistic economy was
balanced by our moral values, of caring for the poor and making sure
that widows and all those in need were cared for. Churches and
synagogues played an important part in making sure that we remembered
these values when we voted and as we went about our day and our
business. But as our churches have lost power and religion is viewed
with more skepticism, we've lost that influence and story that our
lives aren't just about amassing money and things, but that we need
to care for the most vulnerable. We've lost the story that we are
all connected, and that my wellbeing has anything to do with that
widow's wellbeing. In some ways the church's losing influence and
power is our fault—a few leaders abused their power, they abused
their parishioners, they lied and stole. Many more of us pointed the
finger at other people instead of taking the stick out of our own
eye, so now religion is seen as judgmental. Other parts of the story
are shaped by outside influences—the story that we deserve what we
earn, that people who don't have much are just lazy, and that we need
more and more things to keep us happy. These are stories cultivated
by our consumer culture.
The scribes had lost the story of
their faith in Jesus' time, too. Their scriptures told them feed the
poor and care for widows and orphans. However, they were more
interested in their own power and influence. They had forgotten that
we are all connected and that the widow had anything to do with them.
They were telling themselves a new story, a lie, that they needed
more and more and more and they deserved it and God was blessing them
because they were special, or that God wasn't paying much attention
at all. In the meantime, they were missing God right there in their
midst, in Jesus and in the widow. And they were missing a greater
connection, a greater peace. Instead of peace, they experienced this
uneasiness and insecurity and fear that they would be found out for
what they really were, that they could lose everything and no one
would care. Any of us could become the widow at any time, alone and
helpless.
Finally, environmental degradation
comes to mind, as it often does, for me. In order to provide for the
desires of the rich, it is the poor who suffer the environmental
consequences. In order for me to have my I-phone, poor people mine
dangerous chemicals deep in the earth, ruining their health, and
destroying the land that should sustain them. Trash incinerating
facilities are consistently built in poor neighborhoods, leading to
asthma in people who can't afford to move away from there or take
time off work to protest. Those of us rich enough to drive and fly
places we like to go are burning up the oil, adding to carbon dioxide
in the atmosphere and heating things up. The people most adversely
affected are those who rely on fishing for their livelihood, who live
near the sea where levels are rising, those who rely on the land or
the forest as topsoil degrades and trees are burned.
To keep the priests in fine robes, to
keep all of us in the latest styles of clothes and technology, the
poorest people pay the price. Rather than gaining in prosperity,
most of them find themselves trapped in a cycle of poverty and even
their ability to grow their own food or live on the land their family
has lived on for centuries is no longer an option as the land is
poisoned or water becomes scarce in times of prolonged drought in the
new climate we are experiencing. We will end up destroying ourselves
if we don't change our direction by changing our story, if we don't
quit lying to ourselves.
Thankfully, we haven't fully lost the
true story. We live in a culture that is telling us lies. Sometimes
we believe those lies, in fact a lot of times. Still we know there
is something more, there has to be something better. So we come here
to be reminded of our story—the story of what God values, the story
of what really matters in the long run, the story of sacrifice, the
story of new and abundant life. I've bombarded you with bad news,
here comes the good news.
We have an important story. It is the
story of a world created good and balanced for the thriving of all
life. It is a story in which humans make mistakes and learn from
them, in the presence of God who loves and forgives. It is a story
of the interconnectedness of us all, plants, animals, humankind, rich
and poor. It is a story of sharing and healing, brokenness and
connectedness. We know this story deep inside us and it is a story
the world needs to hear, in order to heal, to come to a point where
we can change the course of where we're headed. The Gospel is clear
that a small group can make a difference—it only takes a little
salt to season a whole dish, if we can get our light out from under
the bushel basket, it will light up the room, a tiny bit of yeast
raises the whole loaf, the one sacrifice of Jesus is sufficient to
give us new life.
These are some of the values that we
must lift up from the Bible, that will help. Participation—everyone
is empowered to have a voice, to use their gifts, to have a say.
We've seen this value lifted up in the story from a couple of weeks
ago, when Jesus Disciples were complaining to him that some people
were casting out demons and healing people without permission from
Jesus. Jesus said, “If they are not against us, they are for us.”
Let them do God's work. You don't need special permission to
participate.
Another value is sufficiency—this is
about basic needs. The widow's needs are more important than the
scribes. The scribes don't need a thing, but they take, take, take.
The widow has nothing to live on. Her needs must come first.
Another is equity—fairness. When I
think of equity, I think of the scripture from Galatians chapter 3,
“There is no Jew or Greek, male or female.” There is another
from several scriptures, “God shows no partiality.”
Another is
accountability—transparency, people know how decisions are made and
there are structures and procedures for hold decision-makers
accountable. We might think of the shalom process from Matthew in
which when you have a quarrel with your neighbor, go to him or her
and work it out alone. But if that person won't listen, bring
someone with you. If that doesn't work, take it to the elders, and
then finally if it can't be resolved, someone may have to be removed
from the community. We don't ignore problems, but there is a process
and procedure to help us make a better community and world.
Then there is simplicity—having
fewer possessions. Remember the rich man who was greatly grieved
when Jesus told him to give up all he owned and follow him? Remember
Lent when we simplify our lives to focus more on God's love.
Then there is responsibility—the
fact that there are consequences for our actions. The consequences
for the scribes actions of having to have fancy clothes and the
places of honor, is that poor people don't have enough. The
consequences of our use of biofuel, means that people who have corn
as their staple food can't afford it anymore.
Finally, there is something called
subsidiary, in which the people who get to make the decisions are
those who are most affected. For example, those who get to decide
whether a tree is cut down might be the immediate neighbors, and
might even be the creatures who live in that tree. We see this in
the Bible when Jesus interacts with people who don't usually have a
voice, where those who are sick are the ones to decide to seek a cure
in Jesus presence, and actively participate in their own health. Or
remember Naaman who is told to go wash in the river Jordan? He almost
refuses, but with the encouragement of others who are affected by his
disease, he does it and his leprosy is healed.
According to one definition, sin is
wild arrogance, and grace is setting limits. For instance, we know
by now that if we eat the whole package of Oreos in one sitting we
will get sick. We know that because at one time or another we ate
too many cookies in a moment of selfishness and uncontrolled desire.
Eat one or two, and there is something beautiful. Refuse to eat them
all yourself and share some with others and you're building
community. That is what grace looks like. Even better if we share
something nutritious and life-giving! To set a limit is to combine
your trips, to set the timer for your shower, to walk or ride your
bicycle, to eat less meat, to live in a smaller house or apartment.
To set limits, is to experience grace, God with us when we have less
and more to share with others. One example I have from riding my
bicycle. I was just wanting to ride my bicycle for fitness and to
try to use less gasoline. However, I have found that when I am not
in my car, it makes it easier to greet people and make eye contact.
The other day at the library, a homeless man was on his bicycle, too,
and we made eye contact and greeted one another and Sterling remarked
on that nice man who smiled at him. We made a connection. We
experienced grace.
I want to caution us about the story
of these two widows , that we don't decide if we are poor to give
away all we have, or if we are rich to decide we don't have to help
the poor because God will take care of that by a miracle. The story
is an inspiration to us who are rich, to give more and to take care
of those who need our help, like the widow gives away her last coin
or her last biscuit. It is no less a miracle that we help one
another and make sure that no one has an empty cupboard or frig. In
fact, what a gift to be part of the miracle!
It is God's love and grace that make
sure there is enough food and basic necessities to go around. God
created this world for life, this earth shares with us and we share
with each other. We know we can limit ourselves, because of the
inspiration of our Savior who limited himself from being all knowing
and all powerful to being a human with all our aches and pains and
worries limitations. We know to limit our impact on this earth,
despite it being inconvenient for us, so that it can continue to
provide a bounty for all inhabitants. We know how to share because
God showed us how to share through the life and death of Jesus
Christ. Jesus is finally the widow, the one no one cares about, who
gives his last coin to save us all and to make us his family. He
lives to show us how to live the values that are life-giving and
empowering. He dies to show us how to let go. He rises again to
show us that isn't the end of the story. God can turn this world
around, working through us, a miracle of sharing, a miracle of caring
for one another, a miracle of abundant life.
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