Thursday, December 28, 2006

The Secret of the Gifts

The Secret of the Gifts: A Story by Paul Flucke

The story has been told for centuries now. The story of Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar, and the gifts they brought to the newborn king. And of how they saw the star and followed it for weeks across mountain and valley and desert. In stately procession on their swaying beasts, the came and placed their treasures at the feet of the infant Savior.

And what were their gifts? Ah, you say, everyone knows that. They brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. So, since the earliest of days, the story has been told.

But there you are wrong. The story in incomplete. You see the story was told by those who had seen the wise men on their journey. And by those who stood in wonderment as the wise men dismounted from their weary camels and strode to the door of the rude stable. They watched as the wise men held their jeweled caskets high before them. That much the world saw. So the story has been told.

But that is not the whole story. And if you listen carefully and very quietly, you shall hear the rest of it. You shall hear what happened when the wise men entered the stable. And you shall learn the secret of the gifts.

Gaspar

The first of the three visitors to approach the stable was Gaspar. His cloak was of the finest velvet, trimmed with flawless fur. At his waist and throat were clusters of gems, for Gaspar was a wealthy man.

Those who watched saw only that he paused at the stable door. "He prays," they whispered to one another as they saw Gaspar's lips move. But they were mistaken. They could not see that it was the angel Gabriel, guarding the holy place, before whom Gaspar stopped.

"And who are you?" Gabriel asked in a voice that was firm but not unkind.

"I am Gaspar, and I come to worship the king," he replied.

"All who enter here must bring a gift," said Gabriel, "have you a gift?"

"Indeed I have," said Gaspar, and he held aloft a finely wrought box. It was small, yet so heavy that his arms could hardly raise it. "I have brought bars of the finest gold."

"Your gift," said Gabriel somberly, "must be the essence of yourself. It must be something precious to your soul."

"Such have I brought," answered Gaspar confidently, the hint of a smile upon his lips.

"So shall it be," said Gabriel. And he too smiled as the held the door for Gaspar to enter.

And there before the rough board wall of the stable, lay the king he had traveled so far to see. The light of the lamp fell across the tiny face and glinted back from the dark, bright eyes. In the shadows sat the parents, motionless and silent. And beyond them, Gaspar sensed the presence of sheep and oxen who stood their reverent watch.

Gaspar advanced a step and then another. He was just about to lay his gold before the child when he stopped and stood erect. There in his outstretched hand lay not gold, but a hammer. Its scarred and blackened head was larger than a man's fist. And its handle was of sinewy wood as long as a man's forearm.

But, but--" Gaspar stammered as he stared, dumbfounded, at the heavy tool. And then softly, from behind him, he heard the voice of Gabriel.

"So shall it be, and so it is," said the angel, "You have brought the essence of yourself."

Gaspar turned indignantly. "A hammer? What foul magic is this?"

"None but the magic of truth," replied Gabriel. "What you hold in your hands is the hammer of your greed. You have used it to pound wealth from those who labor so that you may live in luxury. You have used it to build a mansion for yourself while others dwell in hovels. You have raised it against friends and made them into enemies--and against enemies to destroy them."

And suddenly Gaspar knew the truth. Bowed with shame, he turned toward the door to leave. But Gabriel blocked his way. "No, no," he said, "you have not offered your gift."

"Give this?" Gaspar blurted in horror, looking at the hammer. "I cannot give this to a king!"

"But you must," Gabriel replied. "That is why you came. And you cannot take it back with you. It is too heavy. You have carried it for many years, and even now your arms ache with its weight. You must leave it here or it will destroy you."

And once again Gaspar knew the angel spoke the truth. But still he protested, "The hammer is too heavy," he said, "Why, the child cannot lift it."

"He is the only one who can," replied the angel.

"But it is dangerous. He might bruise his hands or feet."

"That worry," said Gabriel, "You must leave to heaven. The hammer shall find its place."

Slowly Gaspar turned to where the Christ child lay. And slowly he placed the ugly hammer at the baby's feet. Then he rose and turned to the door, pausing only for an instant to look back at the tiny Savior before he rushed outside.

The waiting world saw only the smile that wreathed Gaspar's face as he emerged from the stable. His hands were raised, as though the wings of angels graced his fingers. That much the world saw, and so the story is told.

Melchior

Net to step to the door of the stable was Melchior, the learned Melchior. He was not so resplendent as Gaspar for he wore the darker robes of a scholar. But the length of his beard and the furrows of his brow bespoke of once who had lived long with the wisdom of the ages. A hush fell over the onlookers as he too paused before the door. But only Melchior could see the angel who stood guard. Only Melchior could hear him speak.

"What have you brought?" asked Gabriel.

And Melchior replied, "I bring frankincense, the fragrance of hidden lands and bygone days."

"Your gift," cautioned Gabriel as he had done before, "Must be something that is precious to your soul."

"Of course it is," restored Melchior.

"Then enter, and we shall see." And Gabriel opened the door.

Melchior stood breathless before the scene within. In all his many years of searching for elusive Truth, he had never sensed such a presence as this. He knelt reverently. And from beneath his robe he withdrew the silver flask of precious ointment.

But then he drew back and stared. The vessel in his hand was not silver at all. It was common clay, rough and stained as might be found in the humblest cupboard. Aghast, he pulled the stopper from its mouth and sniffed the contents. Then he leapt to his feet only to face the angel at the door.

"I have been tricked," he said, spitting the words with fury, "this is not the frankincense I brought!"

"What is it, then?" asked Gabriel.

"It is vinegar!" Melchior snarled as though it were a curse.

"So shall it be, and so it is," said Gabriel, "you have brought what you are made of."

"You are an angel of fools," Melchior snorted.

But Gabriel went on. "You bring the bitterness of your heart, the soured wine of a life turned grim with jealousy and hate. You have carried within you the memory of old hurts. You have hoarded your resentments and breathed on sparks of anger until they have become as embers smoldering within you. You have sought for knowledge. But have filled your life with poison."

As he heard these words, Melchior's shoulders dropped. He turned his face away from Gabriel and fumbled with his robe, as though to hide the earthen jar. Silently he sidled toward the door.

Gabriel smiled gently and placed his hand on Melchior's arm. "Wait," he said, "You must leave your gift."

Melchior sighed with a pain that came from deep within him. "How I wish I could. How long have I yearned to empty my soul of its bitterness. You have spoken the truth, my friend. But I cannot leave it here. Not at the feet of love and innocence."

"But you can," said Gabriel, "and you must, if you would be clean. This is the only place you can leave it."

"But this is vile and bitter stuff," Melchior protested. "What if the child should touch it to his lips?"

"You must leave that worry to heaven," Gabriel replied. "There is a use even for vinegar."

So Melchior placed his gift before the Savior. And they say that when he came out of his stable, his eyes shone with the clearest light of heaven's truth. His skin was as smooth as a youth's as he lifted his face to gaze on horizons he had never seen before. And in that, at least, the story is correct.

Balthasar

There was yet one more visitor to make his offering. He strode forward now, his back as straight as a tree, shoulders firm as an oaken beam. He walked as one born to command. This was Balthasar, leader of many legions, scourge of walled cities. Before him, as he grasped it by its handle of polished ebony, he carried a brass-bound box.

A murmur ran though those who watched as they saw him hesitate before the door. "Look," they whispered, "even the great Balthasar does obeisance before the king who waits within."

But we know that it was Gabriel who caused the warrior to pause. And we know too the question that he put.

"Have you a gift?"

"Of course," answered Balthasar. "I bring a gift of myrrh, the most precious booty of my boldest conquest. Many have fought and died for centuries for such as this. It is the essence of the rarest herb."

"But is it the essence of yourself?" asked Gabriel.

"It is," replied the general.

"Then come," said the angel, "and we shall see."

Even the fearless Balthasar was not prepared for the wave of awe that struck him as he entered the holy place of the Christ child. He felt a weakness in his knees such as he had never known before. Closing his eyes, he knelt and shuffled forward through the straw in reverence. Then bowing until his face was near the ground, he slowly released his grip upon the handle of the box and raised his head and opened his eyes.

What lay before him at the baby's feet was his own spear. Its smooth round staff still glistened where the sweat of his palms had moistened it. And the razor edges of its steely tip caught the flickering light of the lamp.

"It cannot be!" Balthasar whispered hoarsely. "Some enemy has cast a spell."

"That is more true than you know," said Gabriel softly from behind him. "A thousand enemies have cast their spell on you and turned your soul into a spear."

"You speak in riddles," cried Balthasar, turning to face the angel. "I'll teach you not to jest at a time like this." And he raised his fist as if to strike.

Gabriel did not flinch as he continued. "Living only to conquer, you have been conquered. Each battle you win leads you only to another with a foe yet more formidable."

"Do you think I like to kill?" demanded Balthasar. "You angels know nothing of this world. I am the defender of my people. Were it not for my spear leading them in battle, we should have been destroyed long ago. Why, even now, the enemy is massing to invade us. As soon as I leave this holy place, I must raise more armies. I must buy more spears to arm them and--"

"More," Gabriel interrupted quietly, "than what?"

"Why, more than we have now. More than our enemies have."

"And what will they do then?" asked the angel softly. "Will your enemies too need more?"

Balthasar heard the angel's words and they seemed to echo in the deepest places of his soul as though vaguely familiar. Was the question one that he had sometime asked himself? Was it that faintest flicker of doubt, quickly stifled by one who did not dare to doubt?

For a moment, Balthasar hesitated. Then taking control of himself, he reached down and grasped his spear--and turned toward the door.

"I cannot leave this here," he said. "My people need it. We cannot afford to give it up."

"Are you sure," asked Gabriel, "that you can afford to keep it?"

"But our enemies will destroy us if we drop our spears," Balthasar replied impatiently. "We cannot take that risk."

"Yes, it is a risk," Gabriel replied slowly. "But your way is a certainty--a certainty of spears."

Once again, Balthasar hesitated. And once again, the sweat of his palm moistened the smooth shaft of the spear. But now the beads stood out on his forehead as well, as the force of Gabriel's words did battle with centuries of warrior instinct.

A long moment passed. Finally Balthasar loosed his grip, and the spear dropped toward the floor. But as he looked at the child at his feet, he whispered anxiously to Gabriel, "But here? Is it safe to leave it here?"

The angel released a long-held breath as he whispered back, "This is the only safe place to leave it."

"But he is a child, and the spear is sharp. It could pierce his flesh."

"That fear you must leave to heaven," Gabriel replied.

And they say that Balthasar went calmly from the stable, his arms hanging gently at his sides. They say that he walked first to Gaspar and Melchior, where they waited and embraced them as brothers. Then turning to the others who watched, he went first to one and then to the next, enfolding each in his outstretched arms as one greeting beloved friends who he has not seen for a very long time.

That, at least, is how the story has always been told. And it is true, as far as it goes. But you have listened well, and now you know the whole of it.

Now you too may kneel before the Christ child to leave at his feet those unseen, secret things that may be left nowhere else but there. And having visited the holy place, you too, like those three visitors of old, may go on your way made new.

But what of their gifts, you ask? What of the hammer and the vinegar and the spear? Well, there is another story about them and how they were seen once more, years later, in fact, on a lonely hill outside of Jerusalem. But do not worry. That is a burden heaven took upon itself, as only heaven can. And will, even to this very day.

(Reprinted from The Secret of the Gifts, Intervarsity Press, 1992)


Friday, November 17, 2006

Message Received


prayer
Originally uploaded by kimxtom.

Lately I have been getting the message from God that I need a more disciplined spiritual life. That has been a hard thing for me to admit to myself since I am a professional praying person. However, although I spend a good bit of time praying with and for other people, lately I haven't spent a lot of time with God on my own.

The first sign came to me when I was teaching an adult Sunday school class on prayer. The ifrst class was about prayer and worship, and I had lots of ideas for that. But the second class was about personal prayer and devotion and as I was getting ready for the class, I realized I had a lot less to say here. I tried to rationalize it: it's a personal thing, everyone prays differently. But the thought came to me then: maybe you don't feel comfortable talking about this because you don't do it enough yourself.

Then I had a "coaching call" with my District Superintendent. I mentioned that my personal prayer life and self-care were kind of lacking at the moment, and he was very helpful and supportive, telling me, whatever you are able to do is good--it's better than nothing. I felt better, less guilty, but after a while that nagging feeling came back. There is something missing in my spiritual life...

Then last week I went to the last meeting of the Young Clergy Leadership group that I have been a part of the last two years. The focus of the gathering was on sustaining ourselves and not getting burned out. Several of the speakers talked about the need to maintain a prayer discipline. One pastor put it this way: If we are called to love God with heart, soul, mind and strength, you need to make time every week to nourish all of these parts of yourself. Exercise, fun, time with family, time for study, rest...and pray.

OK. I get it.

So this week I have been trying to make more time for God. I try to get up before everyone in my house so I can have some time alone in prayer. Or the first thing I do when I get to church in the morning is head for the chapel or the sanctuary to read and pray. And you know what? It's working. I feel more at peace, more centered, grounded, connected to God.

We talked about this at Mondays @ Mayorga this week, too. And there was lots of good sharing among the group about ways that they make time for God--going for a jog and making it a time of prayer, making a daily list of 5 things you are grateful for, listening to Christian music or radio in the car or at work, walk a labyrinth...these are all great ways to find time for God in the midst of our busy and hectic lives.

So, however you can do it, I truly encourage you to take some time alone for you and God this week. Talk, listen, journal, read, sing, walk. Whatever works for you. I know from personal experience, it can be hard to make the time, but I am also learning how much it matters, too.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Election Day


vote
Originally uploaded by aughra.

I beleive that voting is an important civic duty.

And today is the first election in 14 years in which I will not cast a ballot.

I know. I should have. I just didn't get my act together in time to get registered in Maryland. But if I'm honest, my not getting registered to vote probably has as much to do with a lack of motivation, fed by my growing cynicism about politics, as it does with my disorganization.

These words of Daniel Berrigan, the (in) famous peace activist and Jesuit priest who spent time in prison for his civil disobedience against government policies on racism, nuclear arms, and most famously Vietnam, resonate with my own feelings today:

I can only tell you what I believe;
I believe: I cannot be saved by foreign policies.
I cannot be saved by the sexual revolution.
I cannot be saved by the gross national product.
I cannot be saved by nuclear deterrents.
I cannot be saved by aldermen, priests, artists, plumbers, city planners, social engineers,
nor by the Vatican, nor by the World Buddhist Association,
nor by Hitler, nor by Joan of Arc, nor by angels and archangels, nor by powers and dominions,
I can be saved only by Jesus Christ.

On his blog "The Journey with Jesus: Notes to Myself," Dan Clendenin adds:

I cannot be saved by George Bush or Jesse Jackson, by Hillary Clinton or Condi Rice, nor by their successors or opponents. I cannot be saved by Green Peace or the ACLU, by Focus on the Family or by Promise Keepers.

I am glad that there are many others who will exercise their democratic privilege today and vote. By all means, you should go vote today. But as you do, I pray that we will keep in mind the words of the Psalmist: "Blessed is the one whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God" (146:5).

Monday, October 30, 2006

The Power of a Conversation

Few things are more powerful than a conversation. When we have the opportunity to sit down with someone, face to face, to perhaps learn for the first time their name, where they are from, and what's important to them--this I believe is the essential cornerstone of community.

Over the past month I have been trying to have as many one-on-one meetings with people at Woodside as I can. I have been learning more about individuals through their personal stories, but I have also learned more about the history and culture of the church, and it's been wonderful.

So as part of our stewardship campaign, What Gift Can We Bring? (which we launched yesterday and continues through November 19th), we decided (OK, I decided) we should try having one-on-ones in worship. Each week, as a response to the sermon, we will be inviting people to get up out of their pews, find someone who they don't already know, and hopefully someone who appears different to you, and sit down with them for five minutes to discuss a particular question. I wasn't sure how people would respond to this invitation, but yesterday they seemed to love it. The questions we asked people to share about were: For what are you thankful to God? And, What gift do you bring to God that you share in this community? People enjoyed talking with each other so much, that when we started the music for the hymn, it took until the second verse for people to get finish their conversations and get back to their seats.

This church, like most I'm sure, has had a long history of giving to the building, the programs and the vision of the pastor. And that's fine--those are all good things to give to. But I know that the thing that keeps people coming back to a church week in and week out, year in and year out, is our relationship with God and with one another. So, I hope that through these one-on-ones you will get to know some of the wonderful stories that I have had the privilege to hear. And I also hope that as we deepen our relationships with God and with each other, our sense of community will be strengthened. What a gift that would be.


Thursday, October 12, 2006

(Last) Monday @ Mayorga, October Edition


Mmm... Coffee
Originally uploaded by SFAntti.

We had another great evening at Mayorga Coffee Factory last Monday. We started with these questions, and then discussed the article below. If you weren't there, you missed a good conversation, but feel free to post your comments and keep it going!

What does it mean--to you--to be a Christian?
Are there certain beliefs, actions, or ways of being that you feel are required of us as Christians?
How do you understand these words of Jesus from the New Testament: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." John 6:29
Do you feel that it’s easy or hard to be a Christian? Why?


The Amish School Shootings: The power of faith, the strength of community
By Duane Shank (Senior Policy Advisor at Sojourners/Call to Renewal)


Part of my job is to read a variety of news sources each morning, and summarize the top stories in our Daily Digest. I’ll confess that there are times when the violence in our world – from Darfur to Iraq, Colombia to the Middle East – threatens me with numbness. Then, there comes a story that deeply affects me.
On Monday morning, the breaking news bulletins began to flash into my inbox of a shooting at an Amish schoolhouse near Paradise, PA, in the heart of Lancaster County. For me, that’s home – I grew up in the county, and for 25 years my parents lived ten miles from that school. My wife’s grandmother was Amish, and we both still have relatives in the area. As more details came in, the shock and grief grew. A heavily armed gunman, Charles Roberts, walked into a one-room country schoolhouse, ordered all the boys to leave, then tied up ten little girls and methodically shot them in the head before killing himself. News stories emerged of state troopers with their uniforms soaked in blood as they worked with medics trying to save lives. Five girls died, and five are still in hospitals in serious to critical condition.
Suddenly, the media discovered the Amish. A quiet, peaceful offshoot of the 16th century Anabaptist movement who have lived in Lancaster county since the early 1700s, living and farming for the last three centuries without the aid of modern technology. I know the countryside where this tragedy occurred. It’s rolling farmland, with not a power line in sight and farmers with teams of horses working the fields. If you ignore the car you’re driving on the back roads, it’s easy to imagine you’re in the 19th century.
I’ve been surprised at the news coverage. The reporters covering the story have understood and written about the Amish in a generally knowledgeable and respectful way. As I’ve read the news, and reflected on the events, two things struck me as having entered into the news cycle that we don’t often see. One is the power of faith and forgiveness, the other the strength of community. In their quiet way, the Amish families and neighbors of these girls showed a witness to the world that it doesn’t see very often.
The power of faith and forgiveness. A pastor who has been with the Roberts family – the gunman leaves behind a wife and three children – told a Lancaster newspaper of being in the family’s home when there was a knock on the door. It was an Amish neighbor coming on behalf of the community. He put his arms around Roberts’ father, and said “We will forgive you.” The pastor concluded: “God met us in that kitchen.”
Also reported was a statement the family of one of the girls gave to the press: “We don’t know or understand why this happened but we do believe God allowed this to happen. The rest of us, our lives will go on. We will try to work together to support and help the families directly involved, knowing that the innocent children likely need help in dealing with this tragedy of their friends, neighbors, and schoolmates.’’ The girl’s great-uncle added, “There is sadness for everybody involved, including the man responsible for this tragedy.’’
One of this morning’s headlines reads: “Amish families hurt, but find way to forgive.” It is a spirit that I don’t often see in the news. A spirit in complete keeping with Jesus: "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5:43-44) And a spirit that is now being sustained by Jesus: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. … Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” (Matthew 5:4, 7)
The strength of community. The Amish community is known for its self-reliance. They do not have property insurance, so a community-wide barn-raising is held to replace one downed by fire. They do not hold health or life insurance, relying rather on the community. The news reports this week have told of neighbors, friends and relatives coming to the homes of the families, bringing food and comfort. An AP story quoted a family counselor who was called to talk with the students who had run away: “There is a coming together. That’s how they deal with everything. They come together.” In a time of great grief, there is the strength of family and community.
It is a community that lives by the words of Paul to his churches: “Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2) “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it…” (1 Corinthians 12:26) This week, the Amish community is demonstrating to the world the truth of those verses.
What can we do in response to this tragedy?
Pray. For the families and community of the girls who were killed, for the family and friends of gunman, for healing to the girls who were critically wounded, for our society that it learn the ways of peace rather than violence.
Donate. Members of the Amish community have established funds both for the families of those killed and wounded, and for the family of Roberts, who leaves a wife and three young children. Mennonite Central Committee and Mennonite Disaster Service are also coordinating support for those affected.

Recommended Reading:
Simply Christian by N.T. Wright
Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris

Monday, October 09, 2006

Hard Words for Hard Hearts


broken heart sign
Originally uploaded by sassypants.

I have gotten many comments about this past Sunday's sermon, so I thought I would post it here for others to read. May these thoughts give you comfort, and something to ponder.

Scripture Readings: Genesis 2:18-24, Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12, and Mark 10:2-16

In this sanctuary yesterday I helped celebrate a wedding. A lovely couple stood here, beaming at each other as they exchanged vows and rings. Their families and friends were there and rejoiced with them. There was much talk of love, of commitment, of God. It was a happy, happy day. On this wedding day, all talk about was the hopeful and promising future that this couple will have; all who gathered in this place shared in their big dreams of home and family and everlasting. The wedding was beautiful and joyful, just as they had planned, and that is how is should be.
Our scripture reading from Genesis 2 also speaks of how things should be, about God’s big hopes and dreams for creation. Back in the beginning, the story says, God created man and woman as fitting partners for each other. God made them out of one flesh so that when they marry they will no longer be two, but joined together as one flesh. It was the way that God intended it to be.
But sometimes the marriage is different than the wedding. Sometimes things don’t turn out as we planned, dreams and hearts get broken. Sometimes the heart that gets broken is the heart of God.
I would so much rather celebrate a wedding than preach a sermon on divorce. And you probably feel the same way—that you would rather be at a wedding than here to hear a sermon on divorce. But here we are. And here is Jesus being tested by the Pharisees on the laws concerning divorce, and we need to try and understand what he says to them and what it means for us. So here goes…
Before we can understand what Jesus is trying to say, or even really grasp the question he was being asked, I think we need to look closely at the historical context of this Gospel lesson. The context is very important both to understand the question Jesus was asked and the responses he gave.
First, marriage: Marriage in the first century was much different from our Western 21st century concept of marriage. In Jesus’ time and culture, marriage was an agreement, a contract, between two families. The couple that was married, especially the woman, had very little to say about it and only in the rarest of cases did love have anything to do with a marriage. It was common at that time for men to have multiple wives, because women were viewed essentially as property. In this context only women were guilty of committing adultery, and for the man it was more like buying a used car than our understanding of adultery as marital infidelity. Therefore, because marriage was primarily an economic and social arrangement to dissolve a marriage required for contracts to be amended, involvement from the families, if not the community; and it there needed to be a justifiable reason for the divorce.
Second, divorce: In general, the Jewish Law in the Torah had very little to say about divorce, except for those few verses in Deuteronomy 24:1-4 which says: If a man marries a woman who becomes displeasing to him because he finds something indecent about her, and he writes her a certificate of divorce, gives it to her and sends her from his house, 2 and if after she leaves his house she becomes the wife of another man, 3 and her second husband dislikes her and writes her a certificate of divorce, gives it to her and sends her from his house, or if he dies, 4 then her first husband, who divorced her, is not allowed to marry her again after she has been defiled. That would be detestable in the eyes of the Lord. Do not bring sin upon the land the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance.
Naturally, there were several religious scholars who had differing interpretations of this text:
The school of Rabbi Shammai said: "A man should not divorce his wife, except where he has found in her a case for indecency, as it is said: --'...because he has found in her an indecent thing' (Deut 24:1).
The school of Rabbi Hillel had a much broader interpretation: "A man may divorce his wife, even if she has burned his supper, as it is said: --'...because he has found in her an indecent thing' (Deut 24:1).
But the school of Rabbi Aqiba had the broadest interpretation of all: "A man may divorce his wife, even if he has found another more becoming than she, as it is said: --"because she does not find favor in your eyes" (Deut 24:1).
Each of these teachers quoted the same verse from Deuteronomy, the same law, which allowed for divorce in some cases, but depending on the interpretation, the application of the law was very different. But they all agreed on one thing: the right to divorce belongs to the man only.

Under Greco-Roman law, women also had the right to initiate divorce, which is the law that Jesus refers to in the second part of this passage when he is speaking to his disciples, but the Pharisees are only concerned about the Mosaic law. In traditional Jewish culture, an unmarried woman who was no longer under the protection of her father, was utterly without status and completely vulnerable. So regardless of who initiated the divorce, a divorced woman would find herself with very few options for survival apart from prostitution.

And there is one other thing going on in the background that we need to understand in order to fully grasp the meaning of this particular scripture lesson. Herod Antipas, the Romanized Jewish ruler of Galilee and Peraea, (the region on the East bank of the Jordan River) had recently divorced his wife in order to marry Herodias, the ex-wife of his half-brother. When John the Baptist criticized Herod for this, his new wife had him beheaded. So if Jesus also goes against the Mosiac law, he will draw the fury of the religious establishment. And if he goes against the Greco-Roman law, he runs the risk of suffering the same fate as John the Baptist.

Knowing all this contextual information helps us frame the question posed of Jesus. It helps us understand the complexity of the issue he was being asked to address, and that Jesus was being set up once again by the Pharisees. It helps us see that in Jesus response he critiques a system that treated women as property and left them vulnerable when they had to choose between an abusive marriage or life as a divorced, and therefore outcast, woman. Jesus views men and women as equals, not just in divorce, but primarily as equals in marriage—a radical concept. It helps us understand that the first century concepts of marriage and divorce were very different from our own.

But in order to understand what this passage means for us today, we must look to Jesus’ response in the context of the wider Gospel message about sin and redemption.

Jesus responds to the question “is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” by going all the way back to the beginning, back to the creation where God established the sacredness and holiness of human relationship. In doing this, Jesus takes the question completely out of the legal realm. This is not about laws at all—whether they are Biblical laws or human laws. It’s about a created order; about a relationship between two people, and their relationship with God. It’s about human sin and brokenness that separates us from each other and from God. It’s about our hard hearts, and how those hard hearts crack and break wide open. And it’s about how God’s grace can help us find healing and wholeness in the midst of our brokenness.

Anyone who has experienced divorce, either personally or as an innocent by-stander, knows how painful it is. I know about the pain and brokenness of divorce because it’s an epidemic in my family: my great-grandparents were divorced, my grandparents are divorced, and my parents are divorced, and although my mom is happily remarried for more than 20 years, but my dad is on his fourth marriage. Two of my dear friends are currently going through divorces. Because I know how complicated, how personal and how painful divorce is, you will never hear me condemn or judge anyone who had experienced a divorce. I was talking with someone in our congregation who went through a divorce years ago and she told me that the hardest part about the whole experience was that she felt that she needed to grieve, but no one would talk with her about it. People either avoided the subject or expected her to get over it. But as I once heard a pastoral counselor say, “Divorce is a death—it is the death of the ‘happy-ever-after’ dream.” Even when there are legitimate, rational reasons for a divorce, even when it’s the best possible resolution to a tragic, or abusive, or loveless marriage, it still hurts like hell.
Even though it might hurt to hear him say it, we need to hear Jesus say, “that’s not the way that God wanted things to be. That’s not God’s desire or hope or plan for us” because we need to remember that because God loves us, God offers us hope and healing in the midst of our pain and brokenness.
We know that in order to find that hope and healing, we have to begin with our own sin. We begin by owning up to our mistakes. We are hard-hearted people, each and every one of us. This does not just apply to marriage and divorce. We know there are many ways in which our sin divorces us from faithful relationship with God and healthy, holy relationships with other people. This kind of divorce is no more or less painful to the heart of God than a legal divorce within a marriage. But when we pray for forgiveness, God’s grace enters into our broken places bringing healing and transformation. That’s at the heart of why we gather together for worship every week—for the opportunity to offer up our brokenness to God, and for God to fill us with grace and mercy.
The spiritual writer Anne Lamott, who is no stranger to pain, was once asked in an interview what she most wanted to convey to her son Sam about God. "I want to convey that we get to be human," Lamott answered. "We get to make awful mistakes and fall short of who we hope we're going to turn out to be. That we don't have to be what anybody else tries to get us to be, so they could feel better about who they were. We get to screw up right and left. We get to keep finding our way back home to goodness and kindness and compassion. . . I want him to know that no matter what happens, he's never going to have to walk alone. . . That's what I'm trying to convey to Sam."
That is the heart of the Gospel message, too. God doesn’t want us to be broken, hard-hearted people, but we are, and God still loves us. God doesn’t want us to hurt one another or break promises or have to go through struggles and pain, but we do, and God still loves us.
You know, all week I have been wrestling with the passage, with it’s meaning and how we are supposed to understand it. I finally thought that I might have an idea that would preach, but there was one thing I just didn’t get. I couldn’t understand why, in the very next moment after this hard teaching on divorce, Jesus is scooping up, hugging and blessing children. I had decided that although it was part of the lectionary selection, I wasn’t going to try and talk about it this morning; I wasn’t even going to read it.
But last night it finally dawned on me -- Jesus’ love and acceptance of these children is actually the key to this passage. We are those hard-hearted people Jesus talks about; but we are also those children. Even when we are broken and flawed and screwed up and hopeless, God doesn’t want us sent away. God wants us right here. Jesus wants to take us in his arms, put his hands on us and bless us. So what else can we say, but thanks be to God. Amen.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Things I Didn't Learn in Seminary


Last week a woman came into the church looking for help and she asked to see the pastor. At first I thought she might need money or a referral to a service agency. That's why most people come in off Georgia Avenue, and that's fine, because that's something we do pretty well around here--make referrals, talk, pray, occasionally give out a little money for food or transportation. That's something I know how to do. But this woman needed a different kind of help. She asked me if I could perform an exorcism. She told me that she was possessed by a demon, and, as if on command her body quivered, she twiched and seemed to involuntarily spit out the name "Jesus."

Now exorcisms are not something I learned to do in seminary. And I do not disbelieve in demons, but they are not a part of my daily spiritual reality (I guess I should be thankful about that). I asked her if she had been to a doctor, but she insisted that it was not a physical problem--it was a spiritual problem. So I told her that I had never performed an exorcism before, but that I would certainly be willing to pray with her. We went into the chapel and knelt before the altar; I put my arm around her and I prayed fervantly. As I prayed, this woman convulsed and shook and cried.

When I finished praying we talked for a bit. She told me about all the things in her life that she thought might have caused her demon possession. She spoke about reconciling with her mother, and getting rid of furniture that she had bought with money given to her by a friend who had been dealing drugs, about learning to read the Bible again and spending time in prayer. And while I may not have a strong belief in demons, but I do have very strong faith in repentence, in the power of prayer and forgiveness, and in the goodness of God to overcome evil. I encouraged her to keep doing that spiritual work and to try and have faith that she would be healed.

As I watched her leave, I wondered if my prayer had helped her at all. Then I went back to my office to work on my sermon (something I actually did learn to do in seminary). I sat down and read the the Gospel lesson for the week, which was from Mark 9:38-50. It begins this way: "Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us." "Do not stop him," Jesus said. "No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us."

Pretty strange coincidence, huh? I guess I still have a lot to learn...

Monday, September 25, 2006

Hard Sell



Several Woodside leaders and I went to a great workshop at Wesley Seminary on Saturday on Fruitful Congregations. The keynote speaker, Rev. Tom Berlin, is the pastor at Floris UMC in Herndon, VA and a very inspirational speaker. One of the things he said was that during his new member classes he tries to talk people out of becoming members. What he means is that, while the bar for coming to and participating in the church and its ministries is pretty low, to become a member of a church is, and should be, a significant commitment. And we should be up front about that when people are considering becoming members.

So when I had my first new members' class at Woodside yesterday, those words were ringing in my heart. We began the afternoon with everyone introducing themselves, sharing a bit about our life stories as well as our faith stories. Many people shared something about what they are looking for in a church: spirited worship, open hearts and minds and respect for diversity, a commitment to children. One man said what drew him to and excited him about Woodside was that it reminded him of the church he grew up in because when he was there the church was in a growth stage and all the families worked together to make the church great. He said that he thought Woodside, too, seemed to be in a growth period and he was excited to be a part of that.

I took them on a tour of the building and while we walked, I talked about some of the ministries that go on at Woodside. There's a lot to be excited and enthusiastic about right now, and it made me happy to share that with these folks and invite them into it, too. As we walked, many people remarked at how big the building was, and it was as clear to them, as it is to me, that our facility represents our greatest opportunity, but is also our greatest financial burden.

So at the end of the class, when I got the the part about what it means to be a member, I didn't hold anything back. I told them honestly--there's a lot of great things and great people here. You will love the sense of community, the diversity, the opportunities for mission and ministry that are available to you at Woodside. But, it's also going to be hard work. We need people with fresh ideas and energy, people who are willing to give of themselves in every way--spiritually, physically, financially--to be members here. I told them that if they aren't ready for this level of commitment, it's OK. They are welcome to be a part of our worshipping community, take part in classes and ministry opportunities, even serve on most committees without being a member. But if they were ready to jump in, there was a place for them to serve, to help develop the vision and mission of this church.

And something incredible happened. We went around the circle and everyone except one person--ten people--said: I'm ready. They knew what they were in for and they are excited. They are passionate and hopeful and faithful. And I think they will fit in well at Woodside. They will find that there are a lot of other people here who share this same love for and commitment to Christ's church. (And, by the way, I have the utmost respect for the woman who said she wasn't yet ready to join, because she, too understood that this was a commitment not to be taken lightly).

You know, joining a church is not like joining a country club. It's not like signing up for a magazine subscription or tickets to a concert series. If we need an analogy, I guess I would say that it's more like joining a gym. Just being a member doesn't really get you anywhere. You have to go regularly and sweat and be sore and tired sometimes in order to get results. But the result is a healthier life. When we really join a church and give it our all, we ultimately get more out of it. And I believe that a commitment to Christian discipleship lived out in community really does make all the difference in our lives.

Alright then...Let's get to work!

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Rev. Mom



When Nora was just a few months old I took her with me to a leadership seminar. At some point I recall that we were asked to introduce ourselves and say something about our ministry. I said my name and where I was the pastor, and that I was currently on maternity leave with this new baby, "not that that has anything to do with my ministry" I added quickly. One of the other women pastors (who also had a baby there with her) said gently, "No... it has everything to do with your ministry."

Perhaps I was just too new at the whole mom thing to get it (or maybe it was sleep deprivation, who knows) but everyday I become more aware of how much being Nora's mom shapes my ministry. This toddler stage, in particular, has taught me a lot that has also been helpful to me as a pastor.

Just a few lessons I've learned lately:

Patience, Patience, Patience. I am not always as patient as I should be, but being a mom has certainly helped me grow in this area. Everything is a learning experience for a two year old, and lots of times they just can't be rushed from one thing to the next. Plus, testing their wills is part of our developing relationship as she becomes her own person. Does that sound like church to you?

Eat your Veggies and Take a Bath. Sometimes we have to do things that we don't like just because they are good for us. And, unfortunately, that's something that doesn't change no matter how old we get to be.

Life is Good. When you look at the world through the eyes of a toddler, there is so much more beauty and joy and love in the world. One of Nora's favorite words these days is "Wow!" Just about everything is "wow" for her, and it helps me appreciate the world around me a lot more. Plus Nora is the kind of kid for whom every person she meets is a potential friend, and that reminds me, too, to see everyone as a child of God.

Remember What's Important. There's always more work to do in the church, but sometimes the most important thing I need to do is read a bedtime story with my little girl.

This past Sunday one of my church members saw me walking around in the sanctuary before the service carrying Nora on my hip and said to me, with a mix of kindness, joy and surprise: "When I saw you with that baby, I thought to myself, I just can't believe that's our pastor!"

Yep, that's me. Rev. Mom.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

(Last) Monday @ Mayorga


I always feel a little nervous starting a new thing. I wonder: will people come? and what might happen when they do? will people connect with each other? will they learn, be challenged, have fun?

Well, what a relief it was this past Monday, when we started our monthly coffee & conversation group Mondays @ Mayorga, and it was great. There was a really neat group of 14 people who came, including long time members of the church as well as newer people (even one woman whose first Sunday was last Sunday--that was really cool!). Because it was September 11th, we talked about our memories of that fateful day five years ago and how our lives and perspectives have changed since. There was some very powerful sharing that happened, and one person said that she thought that being away from the church allowed people to talk about things that people don't talk about at church where they may feel more guarded.

So if you missed it, here is the meditation that we used for our first Mondays @ Mayorga. Feel free to post your thoughts below and keep the conversation going. And come join us again on October 9th at 8:00 PM.

Where were you/what are your memories from September 11th, 2001?

How would you finish the sentence: “After (or since) September 11th…”?

September 11, 2006 Meditation by Rev. Vicky Starnes

Psalm 27:1-10, 13-14

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh—my adversaries and foes—they shall stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident. One thing I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock. Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the LORD. Hear, O LORD, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” Your face, LORD, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation! If my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will take me up. I believe that I shall see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!

Pondering and meditating: On this anniversary of September 11th, what words from the psalmist bring us comfort and hope years after the tragic events of 2001? What does God desire of us now?

Prayer: Loving God, we remember those who died on this day five years ago. Send comfort and hope to their families and to all of us, as we strive to be your people. Amen.

Recommended Reading:

September 11: An Oral History by Dean Murphy

What Will You Do for Peace? Impact of 9/11 on New York City Youth by Faith Ringgold

The Culture of Fear: Why Americans are Afraid of the Wrong Things by Barry Glassner

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Be Quiet

Tonight, after the rain, could you hear the crickets? It was so beautiful. We turned off the A/C, and opened a few windows. Nora was asleep and Marcus had gone to the grocery store. I finished the dinner dishes and made some phone calls. Then I lit a couple of candles and just sat and listened to the crickets.



I don't do that enough. I mean, who really has time most days to just sit around and enjoy the sounds, the smells?

Be still, the voice says, and know that I am God.
But it's the being still part that's so hard for me.
I sit down and immediately all I can think of ten things that I should be doing.

In our staff meeting yesterday, I shared this poem called Let it Heal by Ruth Foreman.
It begins...

Listen to the song and let it tell you how
be quiet be quiet be still
let the angels put their hands on where it hurts and
smooth be quiet be still
ask for prayers around you and bathe in song
be quiet be quiet be still
sit in children's laughter twice a day
be quiet be quiet be still
leave your thoughts for another time
wrap yourself in daylight
knit yourself a friend tighter than you imagined
let good people close to you
move away from those that suck from you
be safe be quiet be still

Be quiet. Be still.
Be still and know that I am God.
Tonight, after the rain, could you hear the crickets?

Katrina Revisited































By the Waters of the Levee
(Inspired by Psalm 137)
by Lyne Stull-Lipps

By the waters of the levee we sit and weep
as we remembered our homes.
Having lost our accordions, our fiddles,
our family pictures, our journals where we recorded the stories of our lives…
we huddle in arenas
waiting for food and water to arrive.

Our rescuers ask us to be patient,
help is on its way,
sing a song to bide the time.
But how can we sing songs,
when all we have,
our past and our future,
is buried in the deluge?

How can we play our Zydeco and our Jazz,
when around us lie the dead and the dying?
Let our hearts sorrow…
in time they will be healed.

We will remember our cities;
we will honor our towns;
we will rebuild our neighborhoods.
And one day, when the crisis has passed,
we will tell again the stories,
and play once more the music of our city.

This was beautifully read as part of our Katrina rememberance service on Sunday by Katie Whitley. Katie is originally from New Orleans, and she took in her brother and sister-in-law, Bill and Evelyn Porter, and Evelyn's daughter and family after Katrina. We heard from Evelyn and from Hildebrand Ebanks, who evacuated from New Orleans and has become part of our church family. We also took up and offering for the United Methodist Committee on Relief for their rebuilding efforts in the Gulf region.

We must not forget the suffering, the need, the injustices. And we also celebrate the stories of hope and healing that have come out of the disaster of Hurricane Katrina this past year.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

"The View From the Top of the Mountain"

The most recent Newsweek has a beautiful article about the aging Billy Graham and how time and life and the nearness of death have changed his perspective on many things theological and political. The article is a very brief retrospective on this evangelical icon, but it doesn't shy away from reflecting on his failures as well as his incredible contributions. "Graham's tranquil voice, though growing fainter, has rarely been more relevant." How true that is--and how I wish that there were more religious leaders committed to a message of grace, truth, love and mystery.

One quote from the article that I love:
"It would be foolish for me to speculate on who will be [in heaven] and who won't. [God] gave his son for the whole world and I think he loves everybody regardless of what label they have."

As Jews and Muslims struggle violently in the Middle East, as terrorists misuse Islam to justify hatred and violence, as fundamentalists of every faith seek to define God by their own narrow view--what a powerful idea that is. Yes, the world needs more Christians like Billy Graham.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

Sports Hero?


http://abcnews.go.com/Sports/wireStory?id=2250052

Note to self: be careful who your positive examples are in any and all sermons. And be extra cautious when using examples from the world of sports.

A few weeks ago, in a sermon on strengths and weaknesses, (for which the text was 2 Corinthians 12:2-10) I talked about the then-favorite to win the Tour de France, American rider Floyd Landis. I had read a really good article about him in the paper that talked about his Mennonite background, how hard-working and disciplined he was, and what an all-around good guy he seemed to be. I was particularly impressed with this part:

Says Phonak team member Robert Hunter: "In many instances he hasn't been prepared to totally waste the team for his own benefit. . . . He's always thinking of the team's consideration before thinking of himself. Then that makes us say, 'Don't think about us.' " But there's an upside: "A lot of the time the guys end up sacrificing more for him." Still, Landis seems uncomfortable with aiming for his own achievement at the expense of his teammates.

I thought this was a really great illustration for the point I was trying to make--that sometimes the things that seem like weaknesses can sometimes be an opportunity for God to do great things. And sometimes what our culture defines as weakness (humility, sacrifice, service...) is actually where God can make us strong.

Now, in general I stay away from talking about sports in sermons for two reasons:

1) I basically think that our national obession with sports is ridiculous, a waste of time, and a terrible wast of money.

2) Barry Bonds, Kobe Bryant, OJ Simpson...do I need to go on?

But this guy seemed different. A selfless, team player, and a Christian (or at least raised as one). Well, things aren't as they seem I guess. Because last week Landis tested positive for doping and on Saturday it was announced that his second sample also came back positive.

I felt duped. And sad. I had bought the whole Floyd Landis package about him being the next Lance Armstrong and making us proud as a country because he was a great cyclist and a great person, too, but I guess he's just another competitive athlete who will do anything to win, even if it means cheating. He still denys that he did anything illegal, but even if he is able to prove his innocence, his career is over.

And I felt foolish for ever bringing his name into a sermon as an example of someone we might want to look up to.

Upon further reflection, however, I think that the message still stands. In fact, maybe Floyd Landis is an even better example now. You see, when we allow God to enter into our weakness, God's power can be seen more clearly, and the more we try and use our own power to achieve success or glory, the more humbling it will be when we fail. (Particularly if we are in the international limelight when it happens.) People are essentially human--we mess up and let each other down and make mistakes and look foolish. And that's where God comes in. God makes us stronger in our weaknesses, and sometimes humbles us so we can remember the source of our strength, the purpose of our being. And that's equally true whether we are cyclists or preachers.


Friday, August 04, 2006

Life-Raft Friends


This past week, one of my best friends in the world came through town and stayed with us. I first met Erik at an interview weekend for a fellowship at Candler School of Theology--that means that we were competitors for a coveteted chunk of scholarship money. (As it turns out, we both got one, so it was OK.) But from the moment I met Erik, his warmth, faith, passion, even his gross sense of humor made me adore him.

During our first year of seminary we lived just a couple of doors down from each other so we (and our roomates, Amy-Ellen and Jimmy) were practically inseparable. Through Old Testament classes, new romances, break-ups, and Contextual Education, these were the friends that I laughed, cried and sang karaoke with in order to stay sane.

Since we graduated, I got married, became a pastor and had a child, and I guess I have gotten somewhat settled. But Erik had to do two more years of seminary training in New Jersey and then Philadelphia, moved to Atlanta to be with his love and searched for work, broke up with love and moved to DC for a job, moved back to Atlanta and is about to embark on an exciting new journey (finally--yipee!!) pastoring a church in Chicago. During that time we have been lucky to have seen a good bit of Erik when he's in town.

This last visit, he got to our new house late Saturday night and was telling us about his trip. Along the way, he said, the thought came to him: Rachel and Marcus are my life-raft friends. Because when the storms of his life have raged, Erik has often sought, and found, refuge with us.
It's a privilege to be a life-raft for a dear friend, because keeping them afloat brings you up, too. And Erik certainly has been a life-raft friend for me, too. The best thing of all is knowing that you have people like that in your life--people you can depend on, crash with, cry to, laugh with, pray with. Thanks Erik. And thank you, God, for friends like that.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Painting Party

We sold our house this week.

I guess I am supposed to feel happy about that, but it was a very bittersweet thing, actually. While we were sitting at this table in the settlement office with the young, newlywed couple who bought our house, as well as our giddy real estate agents, and some other official people taking their cut of the deal and signing piles of papers, Marcus and I both said, at least 3 or 4 times, "we really loved this house--we hope you will, too" or "it's a great neighborhood, we hope you'll enjoy living there." It was probably kind of annoying for them, but we were feeling nostalgic and sad and a little bit like we were leaving our hip, carefree urban life to be older, mature, responsible parents who have moved to the suburbs (sigh).

We asked them when they were planning to move in and the woman of the couple told us: "In a couple of weeks. This weekend we are going to have a painting party with my parents--they like to do that kind of thing. Oh, and sorry...the clouds are going to be the first thing to go."

You see, when we turned our study into a crib room for Nora, I had Marcus paint the ceiling a bright sky blue. Then I made clouds with white paint and a sponge. It was so cute. But of course I didn't expect that the new owners would necessarily want to keep the clouds. I also knew that they probably wouldn't keep the bright yellow rubber ducky bathroom, and they might even want to change the purple and green bedrooms. It's their house now, and they can and should do whatever they want. But I don't want to hear about it!

Here I was feeling kind of sad and nostalgic and homesick and this chick was talking about how she was going to redecorate MY HOUSE!

The next day--after I had thought about it for a while--it occured to me that it might be a message from God. Maybe it was God's not-so-subtle way of giving me a word of caution about how and when to inititate changes in this new place where I am living. And I don't mean the parsonage--I mean the church.

Lots of people have told me that they are looking forward to changes, and most people, I think, are supportive of change, because some change can be a really good thing. But the key is in the timing and approach. I hope that I am being sensitive to any grief that people may have about the change in leadership at Woodside, and that as we talk about things that may be different in the future I am building support for those changes and not just busting in and redecorating.

I think there will be some "rooms to repaint" at Woodside, but I am not buying the house--I'm moving in! So I hope it will be a painting party that everyone will want to be a part of. I sure wouldn't want to try and do it alone!

So...how do you feel about the color red?

Thursday, July 27, 2006

CrossWalk

A few years ago a group of religious folks had a fuel consumption awareness campaign going with the thought-provoking slogan "What Would Jesus Drive?" And while it's fun just to think about whether today the Messiah would drive a hybrid, or perhaps a beat-up pick up truck (can't you just picture it...with all disciples all riding in the back? Except James and John of course--they'd be arguing over who gets to ride "shotgun."), or whether, as my friend Amy suggests, Jesus rides the bus, the truth is that most of the time, back in the day, Jesus walked.



That's what I was thinking about today as I walked through downtown Silver Spring with a group from the AIM (Action in Montgomery) strategy team and a representative from the State Highway Administration's Department of Pedestrian Safety. One of AIM's goals is to increase pedestrian safety at several of the most dangerous intersections in downtown Silver Spring by doing things like making sure intersections have crosswalks, that pedestrians have enough time to make it across the street, and ensuring that pedestrians are visable to drivers. It seems like an easy goal to achieve, but since there are three major roads that people use to get into and out of DC that cut through the heart of downtown Silver Spring and tons of pedestrians, too, it isn't as simple as it seems.

As we walked and talked, I looked around and thought about all the people getting places on foot. There were young professionals in their suits and sneakers; moms pushing hot, sleepy kids in strollers; carefree teenagers running across the street; people leaving work, or headed there; people using wheelchairs, and older folks walking with assistance. And I thought about why it was that we, a handful of church folks, were out in the 90 degree heat talking about crosswalks.

The first reason is because a community is made up of people, and when people can get out of their cars (and office buildings and subdivisions and condos) and meet each other on the street that helps build and strengthen our community. But in order to do that they need to feel safe and secure out on those streets.

And the second, and no less important reason, is because--let's face it--most of the people who walk to get places do it because they don't have any other way of getting around. So pedestrian safety is also a justice issue, because everyone deserves to be safe.

And ultimately, we were out there, because that's where Jesus would have been, out on the streets, walking, meeting people in the midst of their comings and goings and loving them. So I felt a little closer to Jesus today--even if I do normally drive an SUV.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

a funeral is a wedding with God

On Sunday afternoon I was visiting with a Woodside member who has been recovering these last two weeks from back surgery. She had spent Sunday morning in the ER getting IV fluids because she had gotten dehydrated. Jean has a wonderful spirit, great attitude and a deep faith, all of which are really helping her in her healing. But at one point during our visit she said (only partly joking, I think), "it's awful getting old--don't do it!" I responded that I thought getting old was probably better than the alternative. She shot back without missing a beat, "Hey, you'd better practice what you preach!"

Of course we Christians do believe that there is something better than this life. A place without suffering or pain. Jesus described this life to come as a heavenly banquet and as a house with many rooms. I like those images. They give me strength and hope, and I do believe it (even if I am not, just yet, ready to go there).

I also like this poem by Ruth Foreman, and so I thought I would share.

Wedding

A funeral is a wedding with God
betrothed to him
we are at death finally married
his from the beginning of beginnings

death a time of white flowers
veils lifted
and love from the whole spirit

i will tell my children
yes wear black on the outside
tribute the scars of this world
but wear light on the inside
for the glory of the one who passed

this is the day of celebration
the day of love and arms to wrap you whole
for the rest of your lives

and i will tell you mother that I am proud to help you gather your gown
your thread your stitches shoes and stockings
i am proud to be your waiting girl for that day
i apologize if i ever made you feel rushed or uncomfortable
i will remember the preparation and need
i will remember the pre-wedding days
i will remember them past my own
and i will tell my children
i will tell them

Friday, July 21, 2006

It's Not the 1950's Anymore

Last week I was in Boston for a gathering of young clergy from the Lewis Center for Church Leadership fellowship group that I have been lucky enough to be a part of the last two years. Whenever I am with these folks I learn so much--not only from our presenters, who are almost always excellent, engaging and challenging--but also from my colleagues, 20 or so other pastors in their 20's and 30's serving churches of different denominations across the country.

One of our presentations this time was by Nancy Ammerman, a researcher, author, and professor of Sociology of Religion at Harvard. She talked with us about the challenges facing our churches in a changing society. Here are some of the highlights:

In case you haven't noticed...
It isn’t the 1950’s anymore.



Most of the people coming to church these days aren't a stereotypical middle class family consisting of mom, dad and 2.5 kids. Today, the church members you get:
· Haven’t been there all their lives
· Aren’t related to anyone who’s already there
· May not be coming “for the children”
· Probably didn’t grow up in your tradition or any tradition
· Don’t live in the neighborhood
· Probably found you on the internet
(But of all the demographic groups most likely to seek out a church, the "married with kids" group are still the most likely.)

Therefore, the models of church that are stuck in the 1950's are not well suited to the world we live in.

A Glimpse of The Changing World We Live In:

  • Growing numbers of immigrants: 11% of US population was born somewhere other than the US; born in places other than Europe (Latin America 41%, Africa/ Caribbean 10%, Asia 26%) and they aren't just immigrating to the coasts--they are coming to the South, Mid-West, small towns and rural areas.
  • Mobility: 49% of people live in same house as 5 years ago; 25% moved within county in the last 5 years; 25% moved in from outside the county—therefore there are fewer people with long term connections to our community.
  • Connectedness—80% of the US population has some kind of access to the internet, the majority of people have more education; this impacts the experiences and expectations that people bring into the church.
  • Congregational membership: fewer people are life long members of the same church. The churches with the highest stability are Roman Catholic and African American churches; the churches with the most people "switching" are Pentecostals, and sectarian groups like Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses, because they have more converts.
  • Family composition: in 2000— 23.6 % of the population was married with kids (and this group is decreasing), 9.2% were single with kids (a stable number), 28.1 % were married with no kids (increasing), 16.6 % live alone (increasing), 9.2 % are seniors who live alone seniors (increasing), 13.3 % are "other households" (increasing).
  • Beginning of the last century, in the majority of homes one parent would die before the last child left the house so the empty nest phenomenon only came about in the last century.

These are some of the interesting trends in American society. And yet, every congregation is a constantly evolving, intentionally created community, therefore, you can’t make assumptions about the status quo.

So how does the church change to meet and engage with our changing society? Dr. Ammerman had some ideas. She called them "Leading in the Midst of Change: Seven Habits for Adaptive Leadership" (note the word is not leaders, but leadership—because leadership is a shared task)

  1. Adaptive leadership requires curiosity about the world:
    Walk around, drive around and hang out
    Talk to planning departments and get census data
    Read local newspapers
    Get to know public officials
    Talk to your own people
  2. It also requires honest self-assessment:
    · Ask: “How we do things here” and get to know your congregation’s culture
    · Examine the unspoken assumptions about “who we are”
  3. And entrepreneurship—which means imagining resources for getting things done
    · Resources come in all shapes and sizes—people, skills, energy, space, infrastructure, and money
    · Remember that connections are resources, too
  4. Playful experimentation—having a sense of humor
    · Don’t put all your eggs in one basket
    · Be ready to try things that seem a little crazy
    · Don’t be afraid to fail
    · Be ready to laugh when you do
  5. Adaptive Leadership should make it dramatic
    · Tell stories about who you are becoming
    · Create visual symbols and images (like using different kinds of bread for communion in a congregation that is multicultural)
  6. Practice Deep Hospitality
    · remember that newcomers don’t know anyone, don’t know all the rules, don’t know how to get things done, and may not know much about your tradition
    · Sunday morning is not an “in house” morning and worship should be designed to welcome new people
    · Remember that minorities of any sort will feel like outsiders
  7. Be Ready for Conflict
    · Congregations without conflict do not change
    · Yes, a few people just might leave
    · People will chafe as much over how things are done as over what is done. So negotiating the “how” is the important challenge for leadership

And The Eighth Habit: Spiritual Discernment. Pray, pray and pray more. Let God give the vision, and the Holy Spirit provide the power. With God all things are possible.

Well, friends...looks like we've got plenty to keep us busy! And I am really looking forward to working with you all at Woodside to build our adaptive leadership and engage our community. Be sure to let me know what you think about this, too, OK? You can post your comments below.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Welcome to Woodside

It's a steep climb up this learning curve, the one that comes from transitioning from associate pastor to "pastor-in-charge" (in charge of exactly what I am still not sure!). After a long day of moving that nearly didn't happen, week one at Woodside UMC began with a Spirit-filled worship service. We celebrated communion and there was a liturgy to celebrate my appointment which involved many new (to me) and wonderful people. Everyone was excited to meet us and many people told us how glad they are to have us there--it was a great welcome.

But then the work week began, and with it came building issues, illness, death and dying, assisting neighbors in need...and it culminated with an accident on Georgia Ave. in which one of the drivers crashed into our lawn, building and the church sign which still reads: Rev. Rachel Cornwell, Welcome to Woodside! (Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt!)

It has been a little overwhelming, but it has also been a great first week. There was that really engergizing meeting with the outreach co-chairs who caught me up on all the cool ideas they have for the church in the coming months including an all-church picnic (August 13th!), a fall open house, and Wednesday nights at Woodside with dinner and a program for the community. There was a great celebration of the life of Rosemary Louft and the passing of Helen Sherbert, two long-time, faithful members of the church and a gathering of family and friends, and the sharing of memories, and I had the priviledge of being a part of that. And there were all the people who stopped by to talk, the introductions and getting to know each other that's made me feel like Woodside is becoming my home.

Best of all God has clearly been present this week--opening up opportunities, giving us fresh energy, watching over and protecting us. And like that sign, I'm still standing!

Friday, June 30, 2006

Renewal

Marcus and I took a weekend off between church appointments for a little renewal time. We took Nora and the dog, Sojourner, on a camping trip to Assateague Island National Park. It was the best of both worlds for us because Marcus loves to camp and I love the beach. And it was wonderful to have down-time together as a family. The first morning, Nora woke us up at 4:15 a.m. and, realizing that she wasn't planning on going back to sleep, we packed up and headed for the beach to watch the sunrise. (Marcus and I have always said we wanted to do this, but never managed to get up early enough--aren't children great?!) It was a gorgeous morning--clear and cool--and there were none of the mosquitos on the beach that we had at the campsite. Marcus made coffee and we ate peaches and raisin bran...what a gift.

Anyway, here are some pictures:



Sunday, June 18, 2006

So Grateful

Today was one of the hardest and best days of my life. It was my last Sunday at Bethesda UMC, the church that I have been blessed to serve for nearly four years. We got to sing all of my favorite songs, baptize a baby boy, consecrate our youth work camp teams, celebrate a liturgy where I returned the symbols of my office to leaders in the church, and I preached about love—God’s love and the love we have shared and will always share, even as we part ways.

After the service, there was a program where a lot of folks, in a lot of different ways, blessed Marcus, Nora and I with well wishes and thanks. There were lots and lots of tears all around. It is totally humbling to realize that my presence, my preaching, my leadership, has really mattered to people and made a difference in their lives and faith journeys.

I am so grateful to all these wonderful folks for allowing me to be a pastor to them, and for loving me enough to send me forth with their blessings. I am so grateful to Rev. Ron, my co-pastor, for sharing leadership with me and trusting and believing in me. And I am grateful to God…for everything.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Girl Power

When God first began to call me into ministry 19 years ago, I had never met an ordained woman. I knew many strong women, and women leaders in the church, the community and in my own family, but I had never met a woman pastor. The first woman minister I knew was an Episcopalian priest I met in college--Mother Mary--and I remember being in awe of the way she preached and led worship with grace and tender care. And I am very grateful for Brother Don Eubanks who planted the seed in my heart to become a pastor, because he first saw in me what I couldn’t yet see in myself.

Tomorrow my long journey toward ordination will be complete. And it just so happens that this year is also the 50th Anniversary of Full Clergy Rights for Women in the United Methodist Church. Last night we had a wonderful clergywomen’s celebration to honor this milestone. We gathered at dinner and I got to sit with some of my favorite clergywomen—my mentor, Mary Kraus, and my dear friend from seminary Amy-Ellen Duke. Mary, who was the first woman to be ordained in the Minnesota Annual Conference told us to look around at the crowded room; she told us that when she first came to the Baltimore Washington Conference in the early 1970’s the clergywomen’s gathering was just a few women, gathered in the living room of Susan Morrison (who is now the senior Bishop in our denomination).

After dinner, Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon of the a capella group Sweet Honey and the Rock began the evening storytelling and preaching and singing. Her voice is so epherial—I felt like I was transported. Then all the clergywomen processed into the ballroom by ordination classes. I followed all the women who have gone before me to blaze the trail. Even though I am the first woman to have served at Bethesda, and now the first woman to serve at Woodside, I know that I am not the first woman to have been the first, and there is great comfort in that.

And I also have great joy knowing that I will not be the last. After a service filled with heartfelt singing, reading of scripture, testimony, dancing, and a fun slide show showing the diversity of women in ministry, all clergywomen were invited onto the stage. There was a sea of women—white, black, Asian, some carrying infants, some walking with assistance. And we invited any other women who felt a call to ministry to come forward. Rev. Vicki Starnes walked forward with her teenage daughter, Hannah, both of them in tears. I wondered if Nora might follow in this path, too; if God has put a call to ordained ministry on her life? I promise not to pressure her to go this way because it is not an easy road. But ministry is a privilege, and there is a wonderful sisterhood of other clergywomen to provide support and encouragement, to laugh and cry and sing together.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Signs of Life



Our house has now been on the market for a week. For the past seven days complete strangers have been letting themselves in the front door, trapsing through our home, and presumably making comments like, "Uhg. What a terrible color to paint that room..." Here's the link--you can check it out yourself: http://www.homesdatabase.com/DC6051997

Prospective buyers have been walking through our house this week trying to decide if they might be able to live in our house. They have been trying to picture their sofa in our living room, their clothes in the closet, trying to imagine entertaining their family and friends in our dining room. And so we have been trying to keep the house neat and tidy, to help them be able to imagine themselves in this house and not get distracted by our stuff. The house, we were told, is supposed to look like no one lives there. And it's so strange.

The ironic thing is that I always thought that this is how I wanted my house to look. Marcus and I used to argue about this (until we hired a housecleaner to come twice a month and it saved our marriage--seriously). I love a clean house. I love to walk around barefoot and not have dog hair stick to my feet. I love it when the dust is gone, when the kitchen shines...But as it turns out, I also kind of like the signs of life that come with a messy house. You know, a drying rack on the counter of dishes that were washed the day before, mail on the dinner table, laundry baskets, toys and books on the floor. All the stuff that makes a house looks lived in, that makes a house a home. These days our house looks a bit sterile, generic--kinda like a hotel.

I hope someone makes us an offer soon. The house needs to look lived in again. And I'll try to remember this feeling next time I'm griping at Marcus to pick up the newspapers...

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Hands, Feet and Something to Eat


This is the text of last Sunday's sermon on Luke 24: 36-49.

Bill Wylie-Kellerman wrote that "If you can read the gospels without getting hungry you aren’t paying attention." Our stories about Jesus are full of food—Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners, producing mountain-side feasts, sharing celebrations and last suppers, bread and fish and wine. And there are these post-Easter stories where Jesus breaks bread and eats with his old friends once again, just as he did before he died. None of them expected to see Jesus again, and yet he keeps surprising them on the beach or the road or in a room in Jerusalem, and each time he has the same invitation: let’s eat. It’s such a strange and wonderful thing—the resurrected Jesus comes back with an appetite.

Today we might have trouble believing in the resurrection of the body—but first century Jews didn’t. Bodily resurrection was part of their tradition—and still is for some. Some of my more devout Jewish friends have told me that they won’t get tattoos because of they believe that eventually their body will be resurrected and any alteration of the body is considered a defilement. (Besides, you might really regret that funky Chinese character meaning "laughter" if you had to live with it for eternity).

Lauren Winner writes about the Jewish celebration of the body in her book Mudhouse Sabbath. She writes that Jewish men carry the mark of the covenant with God in their very flesh. She says that "the bris suggests that we do religion with our souls, hearts, minds but also with our bodies." She also notes that Judaism offers opportunities for people to inhabit and sanctify bodies and bodily practices. Even the bathroom offers the chance for reverence to God: Rabbi Yehudah ha-Hasid said, "when you are in the bath, remember how much uncleanness and filth exits from your body and be humbled."

This might seem strange to us, because, I think, Christianity can sometimes be too spiritual—we are ambivalent or even uncomfortable with the human body. Thanks to Saint Augustine and others, we have been influenced by a mind-body dualism that considers the flesh to be unclean, sinful, even, and the spiritual to be the higher part of God’s creation.

Our culture, too, has a strange relationship with the human body—bodies are OK if they are clean and healthy, beautiful and thin. We get weird about our imperfections and infirmities—anything that might suggest death or sexuality or illness. We put great amounts of time, money and energy to keep our bodies in good shape, and so it’s surprising, frustrating, irritating, miserable when they start to wear out, break down, fall apart. But our bodies are fallible—they get sick and old and tired.

But our bodies are not cages for our souls; they are the creation of a good and loving God. They are sacred, and often we come to know God most intimately though the physical experiences of our lives. We experience God’s love through the touch of a mother or father, spouse or close friend. We feel both the closeness and the awesomeness of God through birth, and sometimes, too, in illness and death. The relationship we have with God is not just a disembodied spirituality—we come to know and experience God in and through our very flesh. Call it incarnation.

That’s why the resurrection of Christ must be a physical one—he eats with his friends and he invites them to touch him. He is real, solid and alive. "The resurrection is God’s way of revealing to us that nothing that belongs to God will ever go to waste," wrote Henri J.M. Nouwen in Our Greatest Gift. "What belongs to God will never get lost — not even our mortal bodies."

Reflecting this week about Jesus’ physical and spiritual presence with the disciples has been made real in my life, as I think about how quickly July 1 is approaching, about how soon I will no longer have the privilege of being your pastor. I won’t be worshiping with you, serving you communion, celebrating the joys of your lives and walking with you in your struggles. I have been thinking about how someone new will hopefully take my place and do things differently, maybe even better, than me. But I am also reminded of the ways that I have been transformed by being in ministry with all of you the last nearly four years. I will always carry with me the hugs and tears we’ve shared together, the times I have held your hands in prayer, the babies I have held and baptized. In those memories, you will be alive for me, as I hope I will be for you.
The hardest thing about human life is that it doesn’t last. Things change. People die. People go away. And we hold tight to the memories of the tangible, physical experiences because they help us remember not only the one who is gone, but who we have become because we have known them.

Jesus came back to the disciples on the Emmaus road, in their hiding place in Jerusalem, on the beach in Galilee and invited them to touch him, to eat with him, to experience his physical presence once again. He does this to remind the disciples to look back—to what he said and did in their midst when he was alive because he knew that someday soon he was no longer going to be with them, and he wanted them to remember who he was and who they were, too.
And he calls them to look forward, too—to be "witnesses." The disciples become Christ’s hands and feet in the world. And Jesus still calls us as his disciples to be the body of Christ—baptizing and teaching, healing and feeding, transforming human lives body and soul in the name of Christ. Rev. Donna Schaper writes: "One good definition for a church is whether the homeless are using their bathrooms. Human need is growing — and when we touch it, we touch Jesus. When we touch Jesus, we are the body of Christ." She wrote this about The Church of the Savior in Washington, D.C.—a church of 150 members that runs 60 homeless, feeding and medical shelters throughout the city. Their mission statement is "If Jesus came back today, this is where he would worship." A pretty good mission statement for a church, I think.

This week in the Wednesday morning Grace Group we got onto the topic of how we model Christian servant-hood for our children. We talked about the conflict we all feel when a homeless person is standing at an intersection and our children, seeing someone in need, ask if we can help them. We want our kids to keep that sense of compassion, but we don’t want to give money to someone who doesn’t really need it, or use our resources in a way that doesn’t really seem to help the problem, or seem to support begging. We all have different ways of responding to those kind of situations, but it seems to me that part of what we’re also struggling with is just coming face to face with human need and suffering. That man with the sign is a visible reminder that there are people, some we see and some we don’t see, who live in poverty, who are hungry or ill or homeless. And it makes us hurt, makes us uncomfortable, makes us struggle. Whether it’s the homeless man at the intersection of Democracy and Old Georgetown or images of refugees in Darfur—they remind us that we are called to be the hands and feet of Christ. Christ is alive, in our acts of compassion and justice.

So Christ calls us to remember him, to keep him alive, by reaching out—sharing love, mercy, care—and sometimes, yes, even food. And that's pretty appropriate—don’t you think?