Heaven Torn Open

30 11 2008

A Sermon Preached at Southminster Presbyterian
Nov 30, 2008
Mark 13:24-37
Isaiah 64:1-9

For those of you who were hoping for a nice, cozy, and comfortable entrance into Advent, let me apologize right now. Our texts this morning are anything but comfortable. They are unsettling. If we’re listening, we should be both excited and horrified by these prophecies. We heard in the Isaiah passage this morning, as the first first Advent candle was lit, “Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” Isaiah prays that God will leave the heavens and bring God’s very presence to earth. As the heavens torn were apart as God descended, the very mountains would quake and the nations would tremble.

Christians have the somewhat regrettable habit of pulling Isaiah out for the holidays—much like we dig the Christmas decorations out of the attic. We read Isaiah like he’s a fortune teller or Nostradamus, making predictions about Jesus. But we should fight that tendency. Because Isaiah wasn’t writing about Jesus, per se. He was passing on the messages he received from God, intended to provide specific comfort to specific people in the midst of a specific crisis. These people are in exile. The Temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed. The very home of God has been destroyed. He wasn’t writing to predict the future. He was writing to give courage to his people so they could endure.
How do you hear Isaiah’s words when that is your reality? Because you’re little Israel. You don’t have military might. And you are beginning to wonder if your God has also been defeated—where’s God when he’s not in the temple? “Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down so that the mountains would quake at YOUR presence—to make YOUR name known to your adversaries so that the nations might tremble at your presence!!”

I invite you this week to spend some time with Isaiah. To listen to his words in their own context. To let them speak to you in your context. What is going on in your life where heaven being torn apart and mountains quaking would be a sign of hope?

We, I think, have a hard time reading Isaiah without immediately thinking of Jesus. Because while we are preparing for Jesus’ birth in 4 weeks, we know what happened 2000 years ago. God did tear open the heavens. And good, observant Jews, who had been hearing Isaiah’s prophecies all of their lives, recognized a connection between Jesus and the words of Isaiah. The gospel accounts of Jesus were written down by people who often framed their understanding of who Jesus was through the lens of Isaiah’s writing.
In the first chapter of Mark, as Jesus is being baptized by John in the Jordan River, we are told that the heavens were torn apart and God’s spirit descended like a dove onto Jesus. The NRSV cleans up the Greek a little bit. A more literal translation of that section would read something like, “the heavens were shredded apart and the Spirit of God dive bombed Jesus like a pigeon.” Because Mark knows what Isaiah suggests—once God leaves heaven and comes to earth, things will never be the same. You shouldn’t imagine the curtains of heaven parting neatly, ready to close again. This curtain is demolished.
It should give us pause—you want God to come down? Really? Because once it happens, you can’t go back to business as usual. “Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” And once the curtain is hanging there in shreds, you can’t just send God back up there on your terms and then yell out “Curtain!”
So God did come down. God heard the cries of God’s people and changed the way we relate to the Divine. A baby was born in Bethlehem. In a manger. Away from the halls of power and privilege. And the world was turned upside down by this man, fully human, fully divine.
But none of that “God coming down to earth” business turned out as expected either. By the time Mark and the other Gospels are being written down, the Temple—which had been rebuilt since the time of Isaiah—is laying in ruins again. Jesus predicts that earlier in this chapter of Mark. “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another. All will be thrown down!”
But he doesn’t leave people with destruction. There is more to come. And they are to prepare for it. “In those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
Once the Divine enters the world, even the heavens themselves will be shaken. By making reference to sun, moon, and stars, Mark is cluing us in to the truth that God’s reign is a cosmic reign, it isn’t just a change of administration. As different—for good or bad— as we think the Obama administration might be from the Bush administration, for instance, that’s not a fitting metaphor for the Kingdom of Heaven. It isn’t just new people taking over. It is an entirely new creation.
So, all of those systems on earth that enslave people? They’ll be gone.
Cancer? Gone.
War? Gone.
Credit card debt and second mortgages? Gone.
Child abuse? Gone.
Genocide? Gone.
Terrorism? Gone.
Poverty? Gone.
That is an unrecognizable world for us. Stars falling from heaven. Sun darkened.
Then the Son of Man will send his angels to gather his elect from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.
This language from Mark and Isaiah is difficult for us. But for their original audience, it would have been comforting. Because they would have recognized it as apocalyptic literature. Whatever notions you have about the word “apocalypse”, try to let them go. The authors of “Left Behind”, while they may have written compelling fiction, have done a dis-service to a scriptural understanding about apocalypse. Apocalypse is not about getting your individual self right with Jesus so that when he comes back in glory, you’ll be on the right side and will be able to watch the fools who didn’t choose Jesus suffer torments for their sins.
Apocalypse is a Greek word that means, “Revelation”. Apocalyptic books in the Bible are rare—Daniel and Revelation are the only full apocalyptic books we have. But Apocalyptic was a common genre in the biblical world. And Apocalyptic themes run through books—the texts we have this morning are good examples. The Apostle Paul’s writings speak of “revelation” a fair amount too.
What Apocalyptic literature reminds its hearers, or reveals to its hearers, is that until the end, when God wipes away every tear from our eyes, our redemption is not complete. It is not finished as long as anyone on earth is in pain. Our freedom is restricted as long as people are in bondage and suffering. Our longing is not for just ourselves but for everyone. You can hear that in Mark’s revelation here in chapter 13. “Then the Son of Man (language from Daniel) will send his angels to gather his elect from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”
There is no place, no suffering, so far away that God will not be able to find you to gather you up.
So, as we enter Advent, we begin it with an Apocalypse, with a Revelation, that a change is coming. And we are told to wait for it. To watch for it. But we are also told, very clearly, that the prediction business is not ours. “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father….” So our waiting and preparing doesn’t involve guessing which horrible events in our world are the sign that Christ’s return is imminent. We are told, simply, to “Keep Awake!”
In the coming weeks, as we light the candles and prepare for Christ’s return and for Christ’s birth, I invite you to consider the community nature of these texts. Whether it is Isaiah’s reminder that we are the clay and God is the potter and we are ALL the works of God’s hand or whether it is Mark’s reminder that God’s angels will leave no corner of the world untouched as they gather God’s elect—these texts, and many others, remind us that God’s Kingdom is Good News for all of creation. So, as we “Keep Awake!”, let us do so for all of God’s children. Whether we’re getting hats and gloves for kids at the school next door or supporting orphanages in Uganda, Christ’s arrival brings hope for all, not just for a few. We “keep awake”, not by sitting there, looking up at the sky, waiting for his return, but by making a difference in the world.
That is why we’re going to meet the neighbors next week and why we invite our friends to join us at church. Not because our church will be better if it is bigger, but because we have this GOOD NEWS to share. Isaiah wondered what it would be like if the heavens were torn open and God came down to earth. Isaiah’s wondering became our Good News. In the birth of a baby, God revealed Godself to us in ways we had never seen before. And it is for that baby that we now watch. It is for Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us, that we actively wait. Welcome to Advent, friends! Let the waiting begin!





Thanksgiving Prayer

27 11 2008

I hope that each of you has a day full of gratitude. I pray that gratitude is not just saved for one day a year, but may become the air we breathe.
I just received Walter Brueggemann’s new book, “Prayers for a Privileged People”. Here is his prayer for Thanksgiving:
Amid football,
family, and
too much food,
we pause quickly and without inconvenience
to remember and to thank.
We remember ancient pilgrims
who followed dreams of alabaster cities
and financial opportunity;
We remember hospitable first nation people
who welcomed them, and then lost their land;
We remember other family times
filled with joy and
filled with anxiety, and
old scars still powerful.
We thank you for this US venue of
justice and freedom,
and are aware of its flawed reality;
We thank you for our wealth and our safety,
and are aware of how close to poverty we are
and how under threat we live.

We gather our impulse for gratitude today,
grateful to you and to our ancestors,
grateful to you for our families,
our health,
our government,
our many possessions.

We gladly affirm that
“All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above”,
But we yield to none in a sense of self sufficiency,
our weariness in needing to share,
our resentfulness of those who take and do not give.

Your generosity evokes our gratitude,
but your generosity overmatches our gratitude.
We are ready to thank,
but not overly so;
We remember our achievements,
our accomplishments,
our entitlements,
and our responsibilities
that slice away our yielding of ourselves to you.

Move through our half measure of thanks,
and let us be, all through this day,
more risky in acknowledging
that we have nothing except what you give.

You have given so much–not least your only Son.
Gift us the gift of dazzlement and awe
that we may rejoice in our penultimate lives
and keep you ultimate all the day long,
relishing the wonder of your self-giving love.
Amen





A New Holiday

26 11 2008

StoryCorps is declaring November 28, 2008 the first annual National Day of Listening.

This holiday season, ask the people around you about their lives — it could be your grandmother, a teacher, or someone from the neighborhood. By listening to their stories, you will be telling them that they matter and they won’t ever be forgotten. It may be the most meaningful time you spend this year.

“StoryCorps is an independent nonprofit that has helped more than 40,000 Americans record their stories. As one of the largest oral history projects of its kind, it is our mission to help people honor and celebrate one another’s lives through listening.”

So, if you are looking for a new way to add meaning to a holiday that is quickly being overrun by all of the shopping sales on “Black Friday”, I invite you to consider this. The StoryCorps page at www.npr.org has a downloadable kit to help you ask your loved ones to tell their stories.





Southminster’s Got Talent!

9 11 2008

A Sermon preached November 9, 2008
Southminster Presbyterian Church

Matthew 25:14-30

Before we can really dig into this parable, we need to clear up what the word “talent” means here. It is a Greek word and was a unit of measurement in many middle eastern cultures. One talent was not just one coin. A Talent was what a laborer would earn in 16.5 years. So in ancient terms or in today’s terms, we’re talking about a lot of money. It might have been more helpful had the translators said, “A man, before going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave two and a half million dollars. To another, he gave one million dollars. And to a third he gave five hundred thousand dollars.”

Does that change the story for you at all?

It sure changes it for me.
To start with, it gives me a different appreciation of the Master. Anyone can leave people with $10 or $20 to invest. And while it would be nice to get it back, if you lose $10, you still might have some other options. But this master didn’t hand out $1, 5, and 10. He gave out, conservatively, $4 million.
That’s quite a gift. Staggering, really. It is quite a responsibility. If the investments don’t work out, the master is the one who has lost. His relationship with these servants must be unique. You wouldn’t just hand $4 million dollars over to servants if you didn’t know them well enough to know if they were going to leave town with your money. He clearly trusted these servants with something of great value.

Putting this parable in modern economic terms also gives me a different appreciation of the servants who receive the gifts. If I were entrusted with $1 million to invest, I’d be humbled by the trust that had been placed in me. It would probably make me reconsider my relationship to the master and my appraisal of my own abilities—“I didn’t know he thought I was capable of this. Wow. I wonder what else I might be capable of?”
What could you do if someone placed that kind of trust in you? Could you live into bigger dreams for yourself?

Two of the servants seemed to do just that. They took the talents they’d been given and they immediately went out and invested them. When he returned, they had doubled his money.

I confess that it has been hard for me to read this text while the stock market keeps falling. Because, I’ve been wondering, how do you DOUBLE an investment without doing something very RISKY? I don’t think you can. What did they invest in? The Damascus Stock Exchange? Camel stock futures? Olive oil? Credit Default Swaps? Housing developments on the Dead Sea coast?
Whatever it was, these servants took risks to double their investment.
We have seen these risks playing out rather badly lately. And so when we see the third servant, the one who buried his talent in the ground, we likely have some compassion for him. He may not have taken any risks, but he didn’t lose the money. Right?

I think the parable I’d like to see is the one where the man leaves his servants with the money, goes on his trip, and while he’s gone, the economy goes down the tube. How would he have responded to the servants who had gone out there and made those risky investments had the investments not made money? What if they had taken the gifts they’d been given, gone out on a limb to do something new, and then failed?
Perhaps we can see the answer in the parable we already have. Did you notice the response from the third servant when the man came back? “Master, I knew you were a harsh man—reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you did not scatter seed. So I was afraid and I went and hid your talent in the ground.”
What?
Who’s he talking about? The same “harsh man” who just left him with $500,000?
The other servants didn’t say anything like that. And his responses to the first two servants—“well done good and trustworthy slave. You have been trustworthy in a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.”—those responses don’t seem to support the third servant’s claim.
But, for whatever reason, two of the servants seem to have a good relationship with the master, and one of them does not. The first two servants were comfortable enough in their relationship with the master to respond to his gift, to respond to the task he gave them, with confidence. Despite the risks. And, I suspect that had they lost everything when the Jerusalem Stock Market crashed, I think his answer to them might have been the same. “Well done good and trustworthy slave. Enter into the joy of your master.”
Because, of course, this parable isn’t about money. It is about these other staggering gifts we’ve been given. These talents, as it were. Interestingly, because of the usage of this word in this parable, the Greek word talent is carried over almost intact to mean “a natural aptitude or skill”. There may be other examples, but this is the only one I know of where the figurative use of a term by Jesus becomes a new word with new meaning. The word talent moves from a staggering amount of money to become a description of the gifts we’ve been given.

Let’s rephrase the parable again, in non-economic terms.
“For it is as if God summoned God’s servants and entrusted his belongings to them. To one he gave the gift of hospitality. To another, he gave the gift of evangelism, and to a third, he gave the bread of life and the cup of salvation. The one who received the talent of hospitality went out and invested the gift by being welcoming and providing safe space for those she met along the way. The one who received the gift of evangelism went and invested the gift by sharing the good news of the Gospel and invited many others to join him. The third servant took the gift of bread and wine and buried them in a hole.
When God returned, the first servant shared stories of how she had overcome her fear of being rejected and how, as a result, the gift of hospitality had made a difference in the lives of the people with whom she had shared it. The second servant shared stories of how God’s confidence in him had allowed him to overcome his fear of public speaking and how the gift of evangelism had allowed him to share the good news of the gospel with others, that they might also know the love and grace of God. To both of these servants, God said, “well done good and trustworthy servants. Enter into the joy of your master.”
The third servant came to God and said, “I didn’t know you well enough to overcome my fear, so I buried the gifts you’d given me and put them in a hole so nothing would happen to them. They’re a little dirty, but here they are.”
“You wicked and lazy slave,” God replied, “I’d given you gifts of life to share—what good were they going to do in a hole in the ground? If you weren’t going to invest them in other people, you could have at least passed them on to someone who would have.
“For to all those who have, more will be given and they will have an abundance. But from those who have nothing, who have buried their gifts in the ground, even what they have will be taken away.” (Thanks to Anna Carter Florence in Lectionary Homiletics for this rephrase of the parable.)

Friends, the good news is that God has given us all gifts beyond measure. I may not know what your talents are, but I hope you have a sense of them. And I hope you notice the talents in others. Often we don’t recognize how our talents can be invested until others suggest things to us. And I pray that you are cultivating and sharing your gifts for the betterment of the Kingdom of God.
Because, for you to not share your talents is the equivalent of burying them in the dirt.
And we all have reasons when we dig those holes. We’re busy. We’re afraid of failure or rejection. We don’t think our talents are worth sharing. We think other people are more talented. We don’t think it matters—to others or to God.
But this week, I invite you to lay down your shovel. I invite you to consider that your talents do matter—to this community and to God. Where would we be if people hadn’t shared their money and talents with this community? We wouldn’t have this building, or a choir, or Sunday school teachers, or the flower beds weeded, or bulletins typed, or any of this. Where would our community be without churches and individuals to support the homeless shelters, to provide thanksgiving dinners for children, to send shoeboxes to children around the world so that all children will receive a gift on Christmas, to offer assistance to refugees who are trying to resettle, to provide free medical and dental care to those who can’t otherwise afford it? It would be a sad world, indeed. A world full of buried talents.

I’m not, in general, a big fan of “reality” kinds of TV shows. And I don’t watch American Idol or America’s Got Talent, but after reading this parable, I think it is good that those kind of shows are on the air. Because those shows are FULL of people who want to share their talents. And they share their talents with JOY. And not all of them succeed, because in our world, we like to narrow things down to “winners” and “losers”. But I think that if God were the judge of one of those shows, God would be sitting right there next to Simon, Randy, and Paula, and would thank each and every one of those contestants for showing up and for sharing the joy. God would give a thumbs up and a high five to all of them. Because God looks at talents differently than we do. They aren’t commodities with a limited supply and demand. They are gifts. Gifts that are only of value when shared with others. And gifts that only expand once they are shared.

We are wrapping up our stewardship campaign this morning. In a little while, we will all walk forward to place our offerings, our pledge cards, and our Time and Talent forms in the baskets. I realize that many of you have already turned in your pledge cards, and I thank you for doing that. But I still invite you to walk forward. Because, really, it is ourselves we are offering to God.

“For to all those who have, more will be given and they will have an abundance.”
May it be so. Amen.





Why James Dobson does not speak for me

3 11 2008

A Brief Political Moment…

James Dobson, of Focus on the Family, would like people to think that when he speaks, he speaks for all people who are Christian. And perhaps he does speak for some. But he does not speak for me.
He recently posted a letter from the United States in 2012 if Obama were elected tomorrow.
I invite all of you to also read Jim Wallis’ response in his blog.

I hope people vote tomorrow. I am excited that the electorate seems involved and excited in this election, after years of embarrassing apathy. But I hope that people vote for their candidate because they are excited about how that candidate will lead our nation to be a better place for all of God’s children. I am concerned that people like James Dobson feel that fear is the only compelling reason to get out the vote.

And, truthfully, whether one votes for Obama or for McCain, our nation will not change as drastically in 4 years as Dobson or anyone on the left (such as Keith Olbermann at MSNBC) would like to suggest. We have checks. Balances. Different branches of power. Fear is a sad and unhelpful way to lead people. Dr. Dobson (and others) should be ashamed of using such tactics.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ was never about fear. Jesus came into the world because God loved the world. Jesus taught his disciples to share that love, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, and to speak out against injustice.

Regardless of who wins the election tomorrow, our nation is going to have to learn to speak to each other with civility. I am concerned that people who follow Dr. Dobson will have no positive model that would allow them to interact with our society or in politics should Obama win. Stirring the electorate into a frenzied mob is no way to engage in dialogue or to produce change.

So, whether you are on the Left or the Right, please be in prayer for our nation. Please be in prayer for Senators Obama and McCain. Please be in prayer for each other. Please treat each other with the love that God has shown us in Jesus Christ. Please pray for a future guided by dreams and not by fear.





Who Do You Say That I Am?

2 11 2008

A Sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church
November 2, 2008

John 4:4-29, 39-42

I am the woman at the well.
To look at my life today, it might not be so easy for you to connect me with her.
I have not had five husbands. And I can gather my water in the cool of the morning with the other women. Socially and politically, I know I am not a Samaritan.
I am probably more of a Pharisee or something, or at least the wife of a Pharisee, someone on the inside of society’s gifts.
But I haven’t always been defined by being a pastor, or by my marriage to a caring and liberated man, or by my two wonderful children and Siamese cat.
When I was in college, I was defined instead by my sin.
That’s how I saw it then.
To make a ridiculously long story short, I got pregnant my sophomore year of college at Trinity University in San Antonio, TX.
I didn’t wear a scarlet letter on my clothing, but I didn’t need to. I was the “pregnant girl” that year, swelling belly leading me wherever I went.
Luckily for me, I encountered Jesus that year. Not the Jesus of my Sunday school and conventional American moralism. I did not encounter that Jesus, who was lurking in the back of my head, disappointed that I had sinned, ready to judge me.
Instead, thankfully, I encountered the Jesus who knew everything I had ever done, and loved me anyway.
Where did I meet this Jesus?
I met this Jesus at church, of all places. I had been preparing to join University Presbyterian Church when all of this went down. I went to the pastor and told him that perhaps this wasn’t the best time, after all, for me to join. After I wept in his office and told him almost everything I had ever done, the pastor said to me, “when could be a better time to join a church?” This church–which I am sure was scandalized, on some level, by this unwed teenager in their midst—this church was like the disciples in our Bible text. They might have been surprised that Jesus would have been talking to me, but they didn’t say anything about it. They fed me. They gave me maternity clothes. They visited me in the hospital. They had me stand up on Mother’s Day in worship.

I also met this Jesus at my university. While there were people who would have liked me to take my water jar and go to a different well altogether, most people made room for me. Boys offered to type my papers, carried my books, took me out for dinner to make sure I was eating enough. My sorority sisters expected me to remain an active member of the club, even though I was worried that my presence would ruin the reputation of the club. My professors made allowances for me and had the grace to encourage my intellect at a time when most all else was out of my control.
And because I met this Jesus, I now call “blessing” what I used to call “sin”. I placed my son up for adoption. Eric is now 19 years old and a sophomore at TCU in Fort Worth. My boys get to know their brother and it is a gift for me to see them all together. I am blessed to be a part of his life and would love to tell you more about him. Adoption has touched our lives in a beautiful way, allowing blessing to come from pain.

And, because I received the gift of living water from Jesus at the well—the gift that came to me in the form of grace, acceptance, love and support from my family, my community of faith, and my college community—I was able to leave my jar there by the side of the well and have been able to go and tell everyone about the man who knew everything I have ever done.
And who loves me anyway.

Before I met Jesus, I was often to be found at the well of self-reliance. I would go every day and fill my jar with the illusion that I could solve any problem, take care of myself, and didn’t need others to get through life. Truth be told, I don’t think I even thought I needed God. I was a “good girl”. I believed that Jesus was God’s son, but I acted as if the gift of life through the cross event was for others because if I could be good enough to take care of myself, then God would be freed up to take care of the people who really needed help.

But Jesus has this way of shattering illusions. When he quietly makes his statement at the well, it becomes apparent that he isn’t fooled. When he tells the woman to go and bring back her husband, she realizes he knows who she is deep down inside. And not just the person she projects.
I wonder what went through her mind as she realized he truly knew her. Was there a pause as she considered her answer?
Did it occur to her to say, “He’s working late at the office. I’m not expecting him back for a while.”
Did it occur to her to get angry with this stranger who was messing into her personal life? “How dare you ask me for a drink and then insult me?!”
But all John records for us in the text was her answer. “I have no husband.”
Because when you encounter someone who sees you as you really are and then engages your best self, the truth is the only answer to give. We can fool each other, and we do. We can put on our best face when we come to church, and we do. But God is not fooled. God knows who we really are and loves us anyway.

If there is ANY place where you can bring your TRUE self, it is to church.

What jar are you carrying around that you could perhaps set down? Because we do that, we keep taking our jars to the wrong wells, and we keep running out of water. We go to the wells of acceptance or popularity. We go to the wells of compromise, or anxiety, or fear. We go to the wells of self reliance or the well of “everything is just fine”.

Jesus gives the Samaritan woman the gift of living water, and frees her from the daily task of coming to a well that will not satisfy. When I was in college, in the midst of my pain, I encountered him as well. Leaving my jar is what freed me to embark on the path to ministry.
Because, like the other woman at the well, I encountered someone who gave me such grace, I have had no other option but to keep running back to the city, telling everyone I meet all about him.
“Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”
Yes. He is. A messiah of Grace, and Truth, and Life.
Amen