Sunday, December 16, 2012

Family Gathering in Sorrow and Joy


12-16-12  “Family Gathering”
 Third Sunday in Advent
  scripture:  Luke 1: 39-56

It’s a strange and dissonant duet we hear this weekend. 
In one ear we hear Zephaniah’s melody rejoicing,
Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” The LORD has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. -(Zephaniah 3:14-15)

While with the other ear we hear Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted because they are no more. (Matthew 2: 18). 

Each week Michael Feldman opens his radio game show by calling out, “What Do You Know?” and the audience shouts back, “Not much, you?”  Yesterday’s pre-recorded show was having fun with popular Dec. 21 foolishness. Feldman opened the show by asking the announcer,
“Is there anything you want to say before it’s too late?” 

To listeners who knew what he hadn’t when the show was recorded,
who were up to our ears in the events of as grim a Friday as we can imagine,
it was suddenly a real and urgent question.  What would we say if we knew we’d never get another chance?  And, on the edge of raw disaster, how do any of us ever know we’ll ever get that chance again?

When I was 8, my mother’s last words to me, dropping me off on the corner for school, were, “I love you.”  And I have been so grateful ever since.  In the early endless hours God birthed my theological imagination.  I knew that anyone who said, “God took her” (for any reason) was wrong.  God had given her life in the first place and God received her life now. My 8-year-old self wasn’t worried about “why.” She didn’t do anything wrong and God didn’t need her more than my family did. I knew God was taking care of her and would take care of me.

We struggle to express the sorrow
With which our very beings vibrate this weekend,
words beg to be birthed: 
words of explanation, words of comfort, words of love.

The end of the world has come early,
Calamity crashing down in the least expected time and place,
on the most undeserving victims.

Instead of the wonder of Christmas
(lights, pretty packages full of potential, travel plans…)
we are caught up in wondering what to say to our own children.
We wonder if there is any place or any one that is safe.
We wonder what we can possibly do to stanch a flow of violence
that breaks the skin of normalcy, exposes raw nerves, re-opens old wounds. 

If you have ever lost a child,
if you have ever walked with one who has lost a child, of any age,
you know what I am talking about. 
You know at a level much deeper than words.

Mary and Elizabeth meet in another of history’s gaps.
They gather as family, old and young, for mutual support
while they begin birthing prophecies that fill and flow through them
not in a sentimental dribble but with a holy power that cannot be stopped.
They have conceived the inconceivable:
Elizabeth, a wild prophet out of her supposed infertility,
Mary, the world’s salvation in the form of a soon to be armful
of warm, wet, hungry, and soft wiggly wonder.

What might God conceive in you?
What might God be bringing into being, birthing, through you?

These mothers have no idea what challenges lie ahead.

Elizabeth’s son will choose the oddest clothing- wild animals skins (not just prints!), eat weirder food that any of our children will ever demand (though they may have sampled locusts and wild honey behind our backs).

And what about Mary?
Pre-adolescent Jesus will run off in the temple,
making his panicked parents reverse their journey home
only to find him intently discussing the fine points of Jewish law
with Jerusalem’s great teachers.
How embarrassing that their humbly birthed son doesn’t know his place!
And this upstart will meet Joseph’s relived, exasperated rebuke with what any of us might hear as a startling put down.
          I must be about my father’s [i.e. my real father’s] business.”
Adult Jesus will have his mother pulling her hair out with worry
(come home before you get hurt),
and will rebuke her for doing so,
insisting on the path that will walk him up to an appalling death
right before her eyes.

The God who wants nothing more than for us to know our place
as beloved creatures in an extraordinary creation,
the God of Elizabeth and of Mary, that God, our God,
flows in through the cracks inflicted by sin,
the space broken open by evil. 
That God, our God, fills in the cracks with love.

That God, our God has an infinitely capacity to hold that pain we create,
 and feels every wound with us.
That God, our God is a vessel of creative healing.

That God our God, is the God who, with the coming of Christ,
chooses to work not though Armies, litigation, and legislation,
which are human battle fields,
but through tender, vulnerable, broken hearted lives that find their strength and rise with God’s hope full purpose.

Then what are we to say about evil?
Evil is not a being locked in combat with God, villain vs. hero,
a slippery, slimy character that we can blame.
And we are not game pieces shuffled between or smacked back and forth celestial players.

Evil is a distortion, a perversion of human will
that seems to take on a life of its own. Evil is real,
a force pushing back against God’s good. 
It cracks the façade of our intentions. 
The fissures run right through human history.

In Japan, masters of Kintsugi fix broken ceramics with a lacquer resin made to look like solid gold. Because the repairs are done with such immaculate craft, and in precious metal, it's hard to read them as a record of violence and damage. Instead, they take on the look of a deliberate incursion of radically free abstraction into an object that was made according to an utterly different system. It's like a tiny moment of free jazz played during a fugue by Bach.…. A pot that would normally have been trashed was recognized as the perfect background for work in precious kintsugi. 
We who follow Christ know that in the end, 
God’s vision of wholeness will be fulfilled.
We know that the alpha and omega, the fecund beginning and the holy end are one,
but we are in the center and the patterns in it are being worked out in our own lives, as they were in these women’s and their sons’ and in lives in Connecticut, Syria, the Holy land today, in lives all across our planet.

Are we helpless while we wait?

Elizabeth’s son John would grow up to exhort his friends and neighbors and strangers of all persuasion to bear repentance fruits. Don’t justify yourselves by your heritage…
“ Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."
And the crowds asked him, "What then should we do?"

and he said, "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise."

And the tax collectors asked him "Teacher, what should we do?"
 He said to them, "Collect no more than you ought to."

And the soldiers asked him, "What about us, what should we do?"
He said to them, "be satisfied with your wages, Don’t extort money by threats or false accusation."   -Luke 3:7-18

In her novel, "The Other Side of the Sun" Madeleine L'Engle’s heroine encounters painful undercurrents in her husband’s family, a past erupting into the present, when she spends time with them while he serves his military duty.  The soon to be new mother discovers this poem from an earlier bride:




In this parched place of desolate wilderness,
This war-torn, hate split world, oh, who will bless,
Bless and redeem the bloodstained, tear drenched ground
So once again the healing sun will blaze,
The small birds sing, the flowers be found,
And lion and lamb in loving Joy may graze?

Who is there left the truth of love to guess?
How shall we stand the violence of the sun?
How hate redeem, how brother's love confess?
What will be left when wind and fire are done?
Only on love's terrible other side
Is found the place where lion and lamb abide.



Prayers:
         Rev. Mel Kawakami and our brothers and sisters of the Newtown United Methodist Church as they care for the first responders as well as those who seek the respite of their sanctuary.

We pray for the responders themselves, that they may make time in the midst of caring for others to hug the ones they love.

We pray for those whose own memories of lost children break the surface, re-submerging families and friends in waves of grief.

We pray for all those who worry about what their own family member might do.

Especially, we pray for families with empty arms and broken hearts.  Bind up their wounds, o God. Gather their tears as holy and healing waters. Sustain them in their grief and make a way where there seems to be none.


        

benediction

Philippians 4:4-7
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.
Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.
Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Real Glimpses of Glory

In this week's Sunday "Family Advent Gathering" (worship), we thought about looking for glimpses of God's glory that get submerged under our urgent expectations for Christmas.  This article from  The Root Cellar (in Portland and Lewiston) appeared on my desk Monday:
     Robbie's Gift. by Christine Ming.  Robbie had worked hard for weeks.  He came to program early and asked, "how can I help out today?"  He knew that every little taks he did gaev hima star on the big chart on the wall.  Every month the stars convert to dollars for shopping at The Root Cellar Kids' store.  The store has all kinds of things which include notebooks, pens and pencils, puzzles and even candy.  There was one item in particular that Robbie was very interested in, a bright red remote control race car.  He talked about it for weeks.
     Finally the long-awaited shopping day arried and Robbie came with a secret-"Today." he said, "is my birthday!  My dad said that we can't afford any birthday gifts right now, but I can use my Root Cellar dollars to get my own gift!"  
     As he walked towards his prize, Robbie noticed an African princess Barbie and stopped short.  He was obviously torn, and confessed that his 4 year old little sister's birthday was coming up in just 3 weeks.  "She would love that Barbie doll," he said.
     At the end of the day, Robbie's love for his sister won over his desire to have the race carand his simple good-hearted giving speaks volumes to all of us!  What a reasure to see a heart of compassion growing in your childen.  Perhaps the best gift we can give our children this Christmas is a better understanding of how very joyful a life of giving is. 
     On Tuesday, a friend posted a link to one of my "best memories."  Coming home on my first College Christmas break on the 4 hour bus trip from Ames, Iowa to St. Paul, Minnesota, I was full of  plans for my first mission trip. Getting involved in the Wesley Center Campus center brought me into a group of students inspired by group trips into scripture and excited about making the world a better place.  We were getting ready to tromp off to Appalacia, to a partner of the Red Bird Mission, Lend-A-Hand in Sintking Creek, Kentucky. This video is a walk down memory lane to a place that helped plant my call to ministry in the hard day to day work of God's people.
     You might take a few minutes to watch it with a friend, or your favorite children, and count the glimpses of glory you see.  I wonder what glimpses tomorrow will bring me!

Red Bird

Monday, October 29, 2012

Seeing (or Not) and Saying (or Not)

I'm spending a little more time today with one of my very favorite stories from the Gospel acording to Mark, about barTimeus. Yesterday's sermon focused on what we see (or don't) when Jesus calls us to serve someone.  We heard about how Plato's Timaeus (one of the must read books of that day) casts light on the plot.  If you want to dig deeper into this background, check out Gordon Lathrop's work in his own words, "Holy Ground."
But there's so much more to explore in this story! One of the great subplots is who says what.  Mark includes the Crowd as a character in the gospel.  I think its a cool way to let us imagine ourselves into what's going on.
As Crowd, I hear barTimaeus cry out to Jesus and then I turn with the others and tell him to "shut up!"  As Crowd, I hear Jesus instruct us to "tell him to come here." Its exciting to turn and change the message from "stop" to "go."

Once I've imagined myself into the story, I bring what I've seen back out with me.  Then it gets uncomfortable.  I have to ask myself, who have I really kept at an arm's length from Christ?  And who have I actually invited to come closer?
I'll never forget the first time this dawned on me.  As a newly wed in California, I worked behind the counter at a small bakery.  Most mornings I'd open while the wiry little baker of uncertain age and multiple stories produced tray after tray of fresh donuts. One very early morning, about 4:30 am , as I was shuttling trays of fresh donutes to the display cases, he stopped me and asked, "why are you always so happy and so peaceful?" I stopped dead in my tracks.  Trained not to make others uncomfortable by pushing my religous views on them, I finally said, "I guess I was just raised that way." Which is partially, but far from completely, true.  The joy in my life is, was, and always will be Jesus-source of everything good in my life.
Ouch.  I'd denied Christ and kept a seeking soul from him in one quick sentence.  Why is it so easy to throw that bushel down over the light and so threatening to let it shine?  Its easy to sing "Oh, How I Love Jesus" in church.  Why is so hard other places these days?  In "A Secular Age, the great living philosopher Charles Taylor describes how our shared environment (our marketplace, to use biblical language) has shifted from a norm that assumed religious practice to one that assumes doubt.  Most people still say they believe in God. But since doubt is the norm we assume other people don't want to hear about our faith, even when they ask a question that invites a straight answer, like my baker friend.
When I read Bartimaeus' story with my own eyes opened, I see that I cultivate blindness in more ways than I'd like to admit. Thank God I can still hear Jesus calling, "what do you want me to do for you?"  Today, my answer is, "help me find ways to authentically share your love with those who seek it."  What's yours?

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

United Methodist Economic Ministry Visit

Last Wed, I tagged along as Loren and Nancy Porr join the Bath/Brunswick/Limestone UMCs 2012 Mission Trip to the United Methodist Economic Ministry.  It was a GORGEOUS fall day, one of God's seasonal gifts.
Loren and Nancy picked me up at Kents Hill School, where I'd gone shopping to Sam's Club with Jeff Munson.  Hearing that the shelves were running low at the UMEM Salem food pantry, the UMC and Kents Hill School communities rose to the occassion with about $600 to spend, $75 to take to UMEM and assorted bags of nonperishable food items.  My prius was riding low as we transferred food to the Porrsmobile!
Prius low rider

making a difference

loading up

stocking UMEM shelves
 Arriving on site, the three of us unloaded then dispersed to join projects already underway at a total of 5 sites throughout the day:  porch repair, kitchen cabinet repair, entry, hall, bathroom floor repair, window replacement, more porch repair(s), and lots of good conversation and TLC with homeowners.  The day was complete with devotions led by Pastor Ellen Cleaves of Limestone and Wed. night community dinner with UMEM staff and neighbors.
Here is evidence of our adventure.  Be sure to ask Nancy, Loren, and I to share stories too long to tell here....
Marlyn checks out the new steps

progress

before

bonus porch

Loren at the right house

Irving's little helper

Mac & Loren talking it over

heading home

Monday, October 1, 2012

Salt covenant














"Let me tell you why you are here. 
You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth.                                                                                                        Compassion, Justice, Mercy, Wisdom,these are God flavors.  These are our flavors.     
If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness?
Renew our flavor, Lord. Let us be your salt for the earth. 

Because salt’s essence does not change,
With it we seal our steadfast commitment to God.
Because salt preserves,
With it we claim the eternal truth of God’s love for us and for the world.
Because salt blesses,
With it we ask God’s blessing on this house of worship, all who enter here, and all who are touched by our outreach.
Because salt purifies,
With it we claim God’s power to make us a new creation, pure and holy.
Because salt sustains life,
With it we claim this community’s life giving potential.
Because salt may also destroy,
We will take care to love one another as the very Body of Christ.
Because salt is found in every corner of this earth,
We remember Christ came that all may have abundant life.
Because in many times and places salt has symbolized wealth,
We pledge our resources to God’s holy work through our faith community.
Because from the earliest days, the people of God sealed their sacred covenants with salt,
We will be God’s people and will live in covenant with God and each other.

AMEN


Thursday, September 27, 2012

Torsey Red

What a beautiful day it was to be on the water Tuesday. I ducked out (pun intended) between wind gusts and found myself chasing red.  Red leaves caught in the paddles eddies, red branches glimpsed across the way. There were even red cats waiting for me in the window sill when I got back to put on a cup of african red leaf tea.  It's grand that the season of Pentecost gets this boost as we head firmly into fall!










Thursday, September 20, 2012

slips of the tongue-openings to the soul

I occasionally suffer from "flying fingers syndrome."  Last week I realized that my email signature, "In Christ's Joy," was transposed "Im Christ's Joy."  That feels like kind of a bold statement, little touch of hubrs there. So I changed it back.  But the typo stayed with me.  Why shouldn't I claim God's promise to delight in me?  Who was it that used to say, "God doesn't make junk?"  That simple letter switch teased out an opening in my soul and made me admit I dismiss God's handiwork way too easily.
You'd think I'd learn.
BUT yesterday, signing off on a message in a rush I shortened the greeting to "Im Christ."  That's a whole new level of typo.  The soul door slammed shut again and again the typo stayed with me.  I am not Christ.  But I now from experience that the evidence of Christ in my life may be the first glimpse someone gets. And.....don't I claim to be part of the Body of Christ.  What about all the years spent trying to "put on Christ?" The opening into my soul slipped open again.
I found myself remembering one of my favortite seminary classes.  We were asked to proclaim Jeremiah chapter 9 with a creative art project. This is a tough passage.  God speaks through the prophet's voice, "O that my heard were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears, so that I might weep day and night for the slain of my people.  O that I had inthe desert a travelor's lodging place, that I might leave my people and go away from them......"  I'll let you visit Jeremiah and read God's accusations for yourself.  (Its a great companion to James chapter 3's teaching about what comes out of our mouths.)
My project became a simple tent of indigo died sheer cotton, ribbon tears of intercesory prayer streaming from the top of the pole.  It was just big enough for one person to sit inside.  When you entered the tent, you sat on a surface of newspapers with their own witness to the violence we inflict on each other and the ways we tear at God's heart.
Being in Christ is not always easy.  Most of the time we'd rather run ahead and dare God to catch up.  But I'm Christ's Joy.  I'm (in) Christ.  In the rush of living, if we don't risk letting Jesus live in and through us who will?