Today, I preached at Trinity las Americas United Methodist Church (TLA). My sermon was rooted in my queerying the text this week.
This Sunday is the Sunday before the 20th annual Trans Day of Remembrance, so that was a big part of my sermon. Below is the manuscript. Because TLA is multicultural and worships bilingually, the sermon also is bilingual.
I'm doing my best to include the manuscript more or less as it was preached. The italicized is English and bold is Spanish.
Isaiah 65:17-25
17 For I am about to create
new heavens
and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.
18 But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.
19 I will rejoice in Jerusalem,
and delight in my people;
no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,
or the cry of distress.
20 No more shall there be in it
an infant that lives but a few days,
or an old person who does not live out a lifetime;
for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth,
and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.
21 They shall build houses and inhabit them;
they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
22 They shall not build and another inhabit;
they shall not plant and another eat;
for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be,
and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
23 They shall not labor in vain,
or bear children for calamity;[a]
for they shall be offspring blessed by the Lord—
and their descendants as well.
24 Before they call I will answer,
while they are yet speaking I will hear.
25 The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,
the lion shall eat straw like the ox;
but the serpent—its food shall be dust!
They shall not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain,
says the Lord.
-----
Isaías 65:17-25
17 »Miren, yo voy a crear
un cielo nuevo y una tierra nueva.
Lo pasado quedará olvidado,
nadie se volverá a acordar de ello.
18 Llénense de gozo y alegría para siempre
por lo que voy a crear,
porque voy a crear una Jerusalén feliz
y un pueblo contento que viva en ella.
19 Yo mismo me alegraré por Jerusalén
y sentiré gozo por mi pueblo.
En ella no se volverá a oír llanto
ni gritos de angustia.
20 Allí no habrá niños que mueran a los pocos días,
ni ancianos que no completen su vida.
Morir a los cien años será morir joven,
y no llegar a los cien años será una maldición.
21 La gente construirá casas y vivirá en ellas,
sembrará viñedos y comerá sus uvas.
22 No sucederá que uno construya y otro viva allí,
o que uno siembre y otro se aproveche.
Mi pueblo tendrá una vida larga, como la de un árbol;
mis elegidos disfrutarán del trabajo de sus manos.
23 No trabajarán en vano
ni tendrán hijos que mueran antes de tiempo,
porque ellos son descendientes
de los que el Señor ha bendecido,
y lo mismo serán sus descendientes.
24 Antes que ellos me llamen,
yo les responderé;
antes que terminen de hablar,
yo los escucharé.
25 El lobo y el cordero comerán juntos,
el león comerá pasto, como el buey,
y la serpiente se alimentará de tierra.
En todo mi monte santo
no habrá quien haga ningún daño.»
El Señor lo ha dicho.
-----
This
Wednesday is Trans Day of Remembrance, or TDOR. Every year on November 20, we gather
and read all the names that we know of the transgender people who have died in
the last year. Although the list can often include some of those who died by
suicide, the majority of trans people who died were intentionally killed. This
year we know of 369 trans people who died. 36 of them have been killed or died
here in the United States. One trans woman died in prison on Riker's Island, New York, and
another was in ICE custody. The vast majority of those killed in the united
states are Black trans women.
El miércoles que viene es el día internacional de la memoria trans. Cada año el 20 de noviembre, nos reunimos y leemos todos los nombres que conocemos de las personas transgénero que se murió en el año pasado. Aunque muchas veces incluye algunas de las personas que se murieron por medio del suicidio, la mayoría de personas trans que se murieron es matada. Este año sabemos de 369 personas trans que se murieron. 36 de estas personas han sido asesinadas o se han muerto aquí en los estados unidos. Una mujer trans se murió en la cárcel en Riker’s Island, Nueva York, y otra fue en la custodia de la migra. La mayoría en los ee uu es mujeres descendientes de Africa.
Cada noviembre leemos cientos de nombres y sentimos como si fuera inevitable hacerlo cada año. Es como pensaron el pueblo de Israel en la lectura de hoy. La gente está regresando del exilio y no sabe como encontrará la vida nueva. Piensa en el exilio como si fuera inevitable otra vez.
Every November we read hundreds of names and it feels like the next Trans Day of Remembrance is inevitable, much as the people of Israel thought in today's reading. They are a people returning from exile with no idea how they will find a new life—or if there even is life after exile.
It was easy for them to resign themselves to an exiled life forever, and it is easy for us now to think that violence against trans people will always exist — that racism, sexism, and transphobia will never end, but our God says otherwise. God says, “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” And God continues with this new vision, saying, “No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.”
Era fácil para la gente regresando del exilio y es fácil para nosotrxs pensar que la violencia contra personas trans siempre estará—que el racismo, el sexismo, y la transfobia siempre existirán, pero nuestro Dios dice que no. Dios dice, “Miren, yo voy a crear un cielo nuevo y una tierra nueva. Lo pasado quedará olvidado, nadie se volverá a acordar de ello.” Y sigue con una vista de vida, diciendo, “Allí no habrá niños que mueran a los pocos días, ni ancianos que no completen su vida. Morir a los cien años será morir joven, y no llegar a los cien años será una maldición. La gente construirá casas y vivirá en ellas, sembrará viñedos y comerá sus uvas.”
Dios tiene otro plan para nosotrxs y para el mundo entero.
God has another plan for us and for the whole world.
It is not an easy plan to achieve — it never is. It requires major changes in how we function as human beings and in our cultures. God’s vision that “the wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” requires changes on the part of the wolf and the lion. It’s not possible for the wolf and the lamb to eat together if the wolf is eating the lamb.
No es fácil alcanzarlo—nunca es fácil seguir a Dios. Requiere grandes cambios en como funcionamos como seres humanos y como culturas. El plan de Dios, que “El lobo y el cordero comerán juntos, el león comerá pasto, como el buey” requiere un cambio fundamental por parte del lobo y del león. No es posible que el lobo y el cordero coman juntos si el lobo esta comiendo el cordero.
Para crear un mundo donde toda la gente puede vivir sin miedo, la gente con poder—la gente que han abusado su poder, que han hecho más difícil la vida para la gente marginalizada—los lobos, no pueden tener tanta poder—no pueden comer a los corderos. El poder que tienen sobre otras personas es poder sin amor y poder injusto. Hay que enfrentarse con las consecuencias de sus acciones. La cultura necesita cambiar para que los lobos no puedan hacer daño a otras personas.
To create a world where all people can live without fear, people with power — people who have abused their power, who have made life harder instead of easier for marginalized people — the wolves and lions, cannot have all that power. The power they have over other people is power without love—it is unjust power. The wolves must face the consequences of their actions. Culture needs to change so that they cannot harm other people.
And we, here, can be part of the change that God makes. We have power. We especially have power together as this community of faith. But also, every person here — some more than others, but each person — has power. We can honor each person, protect the most vulnerable people, share power, and limit the damage done.
Y nosotrxs aquí somos parte del cambio que hace Dios. Tenemos poder. Especialmente tenemos poder juntos como comunidad de fe. Pero también cada persona aquí—algunas más que otras, pero cada persona—tiene poder. Somos capaces de honrar a cada persona, de dar protección a la gente más vulnerable, a compartir el poder y limitar el daño hecho.
Tenemos el poder de corregir unos a otros cuando decimos los pronombres incorrectos, cuando alguien habla de “esas personas.” Nuestras acciones solo son una parte, pero son una parte importante, especialmente ahora que el gobierno no funciona bien. Lo que podemos hacer, tiene que ver con nuestres amigues, nuestras comunidades.
We have the power to correct each other when we say the wrong pronouns, when someone talks about “those people.” Our actions are only one part, but they are an important part, especially when the government feels so hopeless. What we can do has to do with our friends and our communities.
Pastor Alejandro has asked about great, great, grandmothers. I will ask about friends and friends of friends. Can we talk to our friends about racism, sexism, and transphobia? Can we speak up about these things when we´re in a group and don´t know everyone in the group? When trans people aren’t present? When it is just white folks? How can we influence our neighbors for the good?
Pastor Alejandro preguntó de las tatarabuelas. Yo pregunto de les amigues de les amigues. ¿Podemos hablar con nuestres amigues sobre el racismo, el sexismo, y la transfobia? ¿Podemos decir algo, cuando estamos en un grupo y no conocemos a cada persona en el grupo? ¿Cuando personas trans no estén presentes? ¿Cómo podemos influir a nuestras projimas?
Dios está creando un mundo nuevo, está llamándonos, ¿seguimos a Dios? ¿Creemos en la posibilidad de otro tipo de mundo? Podemos hacerlo juntxs.
God is creating a new world, God is calling us. Do we follow God? Do we put our faith in the possibility of a different kind of world? We can do it together.
Amén.
Showing posts with label year c. Show all posts
Showing posts with label year c. Show all posts
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Monday, December 03, 2018
God fulfills Their promises: advent 1 year c
Sunday I preached again at Capitol Hill Lutheran Church for the first Sunday of Advent. The day before, Capitol Hill had hosted the ordination of Pastor Nat Bothwell, whose spouse, Pastor Minna Bothwell, serves as pastor of Capitol Hill. I drew on River Needham's queery of Jeremiah as well as my queery of Luke for this sermon.
I explored the meaning of Advent as well as the places of distress, fear, and foreboding in our lives and country, challenged by God who fulfills Their promises and the ways God's Word is powerful as well as the glimpses we get, like snowflakes on a dull, gray winter day or stars only visible in the dark of night.
I notice the connections between the queeries and the final sermon, but if you're curious or have any other comments or questions, let me know!
I explored the meaning of Advent as well as the places of distress, fear, and foreboding in our lives and country, challenged by God who fulfills Their promises and the ways God's Word is powerful as well as the glimpses we get, like snowflakes on a dull, gray winter day or stars only visible in the dark of night.
 |
| This is the image I preached from at both worship services. |
I notice the connections between the queeries and the final sermon, but if you're curious or have any other comments or questions, let me know!
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Christ shows up in the suffering: Reign of Christ
The other reading referenced is Colossians 1:11-20.
The
holy gospel according to Luke (23:33-43)
33When
they came to the place that is called The Skull,
they
crucified Jesus there with the criminals,
one
on his right
and
one on his left.
34⟦Then
Jesus said,
“Father,
forgive them;
for
they do not know what they are doing.”⟧
And
they cast lots to divide his clothing.
35And
the people stood by, watching;
but
the leaders scoffed at him, saying,
“He
saved others;
let
him save himself if he is the Messiah of God,
the
chosen one!”
36The
soldiers also mocked him,
coming
up and offering him sour wine, 37and saying,
“If
you are the King of the Jews,
save
yourself!”
38There
was also an inscription over him,
“This is the King of the Jews.”
39One
of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding Jesus and saying,
“Are
you not the Messiah?
Save
yourself and us!”
40But
the other rebuked him, saying,
“Do
you not fear God,
since
you are under the same sentence of condemnation?
41And
we indeed have been condemned justly,
for
we are getting what we deserve for our deeds,
but
this one has done nothing wrong.”
42Then
he said,
“Jesus,
remember me when you come into your kindom.”
43Jesus
replied,
“Truly
I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
The
gospel of the lord.
-----
Today,
as the final Sunday in the church year, is Reign of Christ Sunday. It is the
day we name Christ as the ultimate authority over all. We celebrate our God who has all the
power.
When
we say Christ reigns or Christ is King or Lord—or, in today’s language we might
say, Christ is our President—we are making a statement about whose authority we
follow. This is the day that our
Gospel reading especially gives us great insight not only into who Jesus is,
but more deeply into what power and authority mean to God.
What
do they mean? How do we best
understand Jesus?
Through
the cross.
Christ’s
reign—Jesus’ power and authority—is best understood in the One who would rather
die than kill anyone, who talks to criminals, and challenges the assumptions of
his day; the One who doesn’t give into complacency, the One willing to suffer
for another.
As
Jesus suffers and dies on the cross, we find that, as the letter to Colossians
says, “in Christ all the fullness of God
[is] pleased to dwell.” When
all of God’s power and might is on display, that power places itself below—it
takes on the suffering of the world. God becomes incarnate—taking on our very
flesh all the way to the cross, so that when we proclaim that Christ reigns, it
is really that Christ is most present in and with those who suffer.
Christ
shows up when we’re filled with anxiety at unmarked cars driving by and word of
Immigration and Customs Enforcement, la migra, in the area. Christ sits with us in our anxiety,
recalling what it was like when his own family had to flee his home country and
live without papers in a strange land.
Christ
shows up when the doctor calls about the biopsy and says we should come in to
talk to her. In the waiting and
the heartbreak, in the treatment and the sickness. Christ sits with us in our pain, recalling the pain of the
cross.
Christ
shows up when we wonder if it’s safe to go out in public because at least 295
of our transgender and gender nonconforming siblings were killed this year just
because of their gender identity—23 in this country alone. Christ sits with us in our fear and
dies with us in our death, crucified again and again with each person killed.
Christ
shows up.
Whenever
and wherever there is suffering, Christ is there.
Tears
rolling down, beaten and broken by people or life itself, Christ shows up. That is the God we know and the God we
worship. The One who shows
up. The One who takes on all our
suffering.
Because
God has literally been to hell and back, there is no experience too foreign,
too painful, or too awful, for God.
Christ
gathers “all the strength that comes
from God’s glorious power” and sits down in the sackcloth and ashes. Christ relocates the power and
authority from the places we usually look to, to the places of suffering. For Christ, power exists to be given up
and given over, because no matter how loud or how strong we try to become,
strength and power cannot have the final word for a God who gave it all up to
come be with us.
It’s
like Kid President says, “Even if hate has a bullhorn, Love is louder.” It is love—in solidarity—that has
the final say.
It
is in our ability to be with—to be in solidarity with those who suffer—that we
also encounter Christ’s truest self.
When we sit and breathe, when we go to doctor’s appointments, when we
cry, we encounter Christ with us.
So
we follow Christ—our Lord, King, and President. We follow Jesus to the cross and we look on wondering what
to do about that one who suffers.
Do we stand by watching with the crowd? Do we scoff, mock, and deride? Or, like the criminal, do we ask Jesus to recognize us, to
draw us in?
And
Christ does—Christ always will.
Again and again Christ shows up.
When fear, anxiety, illness, and even death overwhelm us, Christ shows
up in full.
Sometimes
we recognize it and sometimes we don’t. But Christ is still there.
Christ
is in the brokenness. There is an
art form in Japan called Kintsugi where broken pottery is repaired with gold so
that the thing that was broken becomes even more beautiful in the brokenness—a
new thing is born out of the old that would be discarded or destroyed.
That
is Christ’s work. In communion,
Christ, the bread that is broken, connects us to each other and to God. Our broken bodies come for broken bread
and become one body of Christ. In
Christ’s fullness, bread is broken, wine is poured—and Jesus gathers all the
brokenness of the world to himself on the cross and fills our cracks, our
anxiety, illness, and pain with a love that casts out fear. Christ’s presence in communion fills us
and Christ walks with us in our fear through a dangerous world, through a sick
world, through a scary world.
Christ
shows up and Christ shows up on the cross. Perfect power and authority made known in perfect love and
service, not because it is required, but precisely because it is so freely
given.
That
is who Christ is. Christ, our
King, Lord, and President, is Christ crucified, Christ who suffers with the
suffering ones.
Thanks
be to God
Sunday, November 13, 2016
God's love is who we are: 26th after pentecost
The
holy gospel according to Luke (21:5-19)
5When some
were speaking about the temple,
how
it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God,
Jesus said,
6“As
for these things that you see,
the
days will come when not one stone will be left upon another;
all
will be thrown down.”
7They asked Jesus,
7They asked Jesus,
“Teacher,
when will this be,
and
what will be the sign that this is about to take place?”
8And Jesus
said,
“Beware
that you are not led astray;
for
many will come in my name and say, ‘I am the one!’
and,
‘The time is near!’
Do
not go after them.
9“When you
hear of wars and insurrections,
do not be terrified;
for
these things must take place first,
but
the end will not follow immediately.”
10Then Jesus
said to them,
“Nation
will rise against nation,
and
country against country;
11there
will be great earthquakes,
and
in various places famines and plagues;
and
there will be dreadful portents
and
great signs from heaven.
12“But
before all this occurs,
they will arrest you and persecute you;
they will hand you over to synagogues and
prisons,
and
you will be brought before rulers and
governors because of my name.
13This will give you an
opportunity to testify.
14So
make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance;
15for
I will give you words and a wisdom
that
none of your opponents will be able to withstand
or
contradict.
16You
will be betrayed even by parents and family,
by
relatives and friends;
and
they will put some of you to death.
17You will be hated by all because of my name.
18But
not a hair of your head will perish.
19By
your endurance you will gain your souls.”
The
gospel of the Lord.
-----
No
matter who would have won this week, we as a community of faith would have work
to do. Our country, and even our
own community, is deeply divided. The
words of Jesus from today’s gospel paint a stark picture of the world and yet
for many in this country, “dreadful portents” feels accurate this week or even
this year.
Throughout
this election, those who are most vulnerable in our country have been used,
tossed aside, or manipulated. Poor
and working class people of all races have been excluded in favor of a focus on
the “middle class,” so many others have been explicitly degraded and
villainized.
It
is not a matter of being a democrat or a republican. It is not a matter of voting a certain way. No matter who you voted for or what
your reasons for voting, the results of the presidential election tell those of
us who are already more vulnerable that we don’t matter or that we matter
less. This is not because a certain
“side” won or lost. It’s deeper
than that.
Muslims,
immigrants, people of color, and lesbian, gay bisexual, transgender, and queer
folks have been taunted; in play grounds with “Build the wall!”, harassed and
beaten up, with
hijabs, the headscarves some Muslim women wear as an expression of their faith,
torn off on
college campuses and in people’s own communities. Women have been harassed on public transportation and at
work. Graffiti and threatening notes have popped up everywhere. [1]
Not
only that, usually the crisis text line has about 30-80 people working at one
time to field all of the texts that they receive from people in crisis from
anxiety, depression, and other causes.
Tuesday night, it took over 500 counselors at once to meet the demand. This has continued to be the case
across the board with suicide and crisis hotlines.
For
many of us who voted, probably even the majority, the intended message was not
this, but for those people who jumped on board with the fear and voted
precisely because of the violent, racist, xenophobic rhetoric, they see the
results as affirmation of their views.
They understand the results as a country that thinks whiteness is best
and should be the only race allowed, where other religions are illegitimate,
where people with disabilities, LGBTQ+ folks, and women don’t deserve full
citizenship, where violence, harassment, and bullying is ok.
Many
now feel justified in acting on their bigotry and fear. And many are responding to that out of
their own justified fear and anger.
That has become the message of this
week.
But
Jesus says, “13This will give
you an opportunity to testify.”
Because
that—that hatred and fear—is not who we are as a community of faith. Violence in any form is not who we are
as a community of faith.
Jesus says “they will
arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and
prisons, and you will be brought
before rulers and governors because of my name….16You will
be betrayed even by parents and family, by relatives and friends; and they will
put some of you to death. 17You
will be hated by all because of my name. ”
Following Jesus is not
easy. It means taking risks, it
means standing up to bullies on playgrounds, on the streets, and even in
politics—from Republicans, Democrats, Third Parties, and Independents.
Today, tomorrow, and in the
coming months, we will have the opportunity to testify. What will your witness be?
Yesterday we celebrated
Carina’s ordination. We celebrated
this community of faith and the ways the Holy Spirit has worked through you all
to encourage Carina and lift up her gifts for ministry and leadership.
You
have nurtured in her a faith that understands a neighbor’s pain as her own
pain; that sees Christ’s suffering in those who suffer throughout the world. You were the first ones to share with
her about Jesus, to care about being in relationship with her, to encourage her
call to ministry. You embodied
God’s love to your neighbors and to her.
Christ’s love has been carried in this community and Christ’s light has
shined brightly through you.
In the coming months, we
will again have the opportunity to testify to God’s love for Muslim children of
God, for immigrant and refugee children of God, for children of God who have
survived sexual assault, and for children of God with disabilities.
Not because you have to, but
because of God’s love. God loves
immigrants, people living and working in poverty, Muslims, survivors, the
vulnerable and the forgotten. God
loves you. And God’s love is who
we are as a community of faith—as beloved children of God ourselves. God loves us so much that God feeds us
in bread and wine; Christ’s own self, given in love for the sake of the whole
world. And through us, God also
feeds others—pies, pasta, mole, cheese and crackers, and the nourishment of love,
friendship, and support.
The Holy Spirit has been at
work in this world since long before any of us were alive and since long before
this election even began. God
claims each and every person as beloved and in our baptism, God calls us into
the world as witnesses of God’s love—to smile and greet strangers who are
really neighbors in the grocery store, to go out of our way when we’re in
Rochester or LaCrosse to warmly greet women wearing hijabs, so that they know
that we care about them and are safe people for them, to challenge ourselves
and friends or neighbors when we think or they say something
about “those people” whomever “those people” may be.
We live in a small town,
filled with nice people, and it’s easy to think that we aren’t connected to the
rest of what is going on in our country or the world. Yet our interactions are bigger than
Rushford and Peterson. God makes
them ripple outwards. God’s love
surrounds us and expands the impact of the love we show to others.
May the Holy Spirit continue
to make our witness ripple waves of love into the universe just as she has
always done.
Amen.
Sunday, November 06, 2016
God holds us in thin places: All Saints Sunday
The first reading was Job 19:23-27a.
The
holy gospel according to Luke
27Some
Sadducees,
those
who say there is no resurrection,
came
to Jesus 28and asked him a question,
“Teacher,
Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies,
leaving
a wife but no children,
the
man shall marry the widow
and
raise up children for his brother.
29Now
there were seven brothers;
the
first married, and died childless;
30then
the second
31and
the third married her,
and
so in the same way all seven died childless.
32Finally
the woman also died.
33In
the resurrection, therefore,
whose
wife will the woman be?
For
the seven had married her.”
34Jesus
said to them,
“Those
who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage;
35but
those who are considered worthy
of
a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead
neither
marry nor are given in marriage.
36Indeed
they cannot die anymore,
because
they are like angels and are children of God,
being
children of the resurrection.
37And
the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed,
in
the story about the bush,
where
he speaks of the Sovereign
as
the God of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar,
the
God of Rebecca and Isaac,
and
the God of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel.
38Now
God is God not of the dead,
but
of the living;
for
to God all of them are alive.”
The
gospel of the Lord.
-----
It
is profoundly ironic that in our readings for today it is precisely those who
do not believe in the resurrection who prompt our deeper thinking and
experience of the resurrection. Job, as was typical of his time, doesn’t
actually believe in the resurrection or everlasting life the way we might
today.
For
Job, when you died, you died and the way you lived on was through your
descendants and the name, or reputation, you made for yourself. And yet, today we find new meaning in
Job’s words, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last will stand
upon the earth; 26and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in
my flesh I shall see God, 27awhom I shall see on my side, and my
eyes shall behold, and not another.”
Much
of our understandings and lives are built on others’—on the lives and
understandings of those who’ve come before us. In this way, we hear Job’s words and we are able to find new
and different meaning, even as the old understandings may remain, fade, or
change. We hear in Job’s word a
promise of everlasting life—a promise of new life in the resurrection.
Jesus’
encounter with the Sadducees also turns things around. You see, the Sadducees
try to trap Jesus with complicated questions about the Resurrection—which they
don’t even believe in!
So
it comes as no surprise that Jesus uses their question as more of a jumping off
point than as a question in need of a clear answer. With their resurrection
question in his metaphorical pocket, Jesus dives into the nature of God.
After
all, the resurrection only matters insofar as our God is beyond death.
Jesus
alludes to Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush, where the name Godgives Moses is “I AM or I will be.” God is an active God.
God is a present God. God
is God even into the future. Jesus
says, “God is God not of the dead, but
of the living; for to God all of them are alive.”
God’s
presence with us is a forever thing and there is nothing we can do to screw it
up so badly that that will not be true—for us or for anyone else. God is God of the living and yet even
when we die, God is still with us.
Too
often in our culture, we avoid death like the plague and then when people die
we give a set amount of time for grief and then expect people to be back to their
old selves again. But that is not
how grief works and that is not how love works. When people we love die, the work of grief is figuring out
our new relationship with them—one built less from physical presence and more
from heart, feelings, and memories. Loved ones who have died still remain a part of our lives,
just in a different way.
In
fact, there are times throughout the year and places where peoples across
cultures recognize the delicate difference between the living and the dead. In
Celtic tradition, they referred to it as “thin places,”—in thin places and thin
times, the boundary between those of us who are alive and those who are dead is
thinner and we are more able to sense their presence.
In
Mexico, the Day of the Dead—el Día de muertos—is a time spent with those who
have died—making altars at home or decorating graves. Last night we celebrated together—remembering friends,
family, and community members who have died, and we built the altar that is in
the back, decorating it and adding our own pictures, mementos, food and drink
from loved ones.
This
time of year, when the earth grows cold, when the harvest finishes, is the time
when we are all closer to death.
It used to be that some wouldn’t make it through the winter and so these
celebrations of life were what carried people through to the next one.
It
is also fitting that today is a communion Sunday because communion is one of
those places where “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” Communion is many things—it
is a communal meal in which we participate in God’s alternative economy where all are fed—all receive our daily needs.
Communion is a renewing of God’s covenant of love with us.
And Communion is also our participation in and our glimpse of the feast to
come. In this, we don’t just
practice, but we taste the feast, we participate with the great cloud of
witnesses. When we receive the
bread and wine that is Jesus, we are in line with our parents, spouses,
friends, and even children who have completed their baptismal journey. We join
with our ancestors in the faith throughout the ages to celebrate the power of
life that comes from God.
Today especially as a community of faith, we gather to celebrate and remember those we love who have died. As we do, we also feel their presence and the ways they continue to impact our lives.
For
some of us their presence will always be tangible and for others it will fade
and morph with time. For some of
us, our grief at the death of a loved one or even a stranger will overwhelm us,
for others it will settle in as numbness or come back at unexpected times.
Each
of us grieve and process death differently and on All Saints’ Day and special
anniversaries, we experience again the presence of those who have died. Those thin places invite them into our
lives again in a different way. We eat their favorite foods, reminisce about
memories and over pictures. We go
to bed, wrapped in their arms, only to find that it is our God who is holding
us close, remembering with us, and bringing us again to each new day, each new
feast, each new life.
Sunday, October 23, 2016
God's love surrounds us in forgiveness: 23rd after pentecost
The
holy gospel according to Luke (18:9-14)
9Jesus
also told this parable
to some who
trusted in themselves
that
they were righteous
and
regarded others with contempt:
10“Two
men went up to the temple to pray,
one
a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
11The
Pharisee, standing by himself,
was
praying thus,
‘God,
I thank you that I am not like other people:
thieves,
rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
12I
fast twice a week;
I
give a tenth of all my income.’
13But
the tax collector, standing far off,
would
not even look up to heaven,
but
was beating his breast and saying,
‘God,
be merciful to me, a sinner!’
14I
tell you, this man went down to his home
justified
alongside the other;
for all who exalt
themselves will be humbled,
and all who
humble themselves will be exalted.”
The
gospel of the Lord.
-----
Today’s
gospel provides us with an interesting juxtaposition. The tax collector, considered a traitor to his people as he
profits off of them and supports the occupying Roman forces in his work, is set
alongside the Pharisee, a leader of the people who does everything right—and
then some.
Both
the Pharisee and the tax collector are, as is often the case in Jesus’
parables, caricatures of their real-life counterparts. The Pharisee is an over-the-top
faithful one, adhering not only to the Torah, but adding a fuller tithe than
was expected of him and fasting twice a week! The tax collector himself would be a surprise to see in the
Temple at all, considering the sentiment toward him as a sell-out to the Roman
Empire.
Taken
together, they give us insight into confession and forgiveness, an important
part of our worship most Sundays.
After
taking a moment to prepare our hearts and minds for worship and calling
ourselves and each other into this particular worship, we together confess our
sins. We do this each week for a
few reasons.
Confessing
our sins—our shortfalls, the ways we fail to separate ourselves from oppressive
systems in our culture, and the ways we succeed in separating ourselves from others
in need—keeps us mindful that we live in an imperfect world. As part of this, each week I do my best
to make sure that we mess up at least once as a reminder that we are not
perfect. Usually I don’t have to
work at all to achieve this—we’ll call it a natural talent ;-)
When
we confess our sins during worship, it is a way of acknowledging that we are
not perfect. It also creates space
for us, both individually in our moment for silent confession, and communally,
to name the sins we carry with us.
We
confess the prejudice we carry, that we can favor our own comfort or security
more than the lives or well-being of others.
We
confess that we try to control others’ freedom.
that we trust too
much in violence to solve problems all over the world.
We
confess that we give into the fear we have been taught to carry
when we see
others who are not like us.
We
confess the ways we disparage others because of their race, religion, language,
age, gender, or sexual orientation.
We
confess our resentments and regrets.
Confessing
our sins as a group helps us know that we are not alone in falling short. We all mess up. Both our actions and our inactions work
to separate us from others and from God.
Sin limits our experience of the Divine in our midst and in our relationships
with others. Like the tax
collector, our sin impacts our whole community. Jewish New Testament Scholar Amy-Jill Levine points out that
the “concern for community responsibility [found in first century Palestinian
culture] means that the sin of one person can negatively impact everyone else.”[1] There are ripples from our sins just
like there are from the tax collector’s support of an oppressive empire and the
extra money he takes from his community, beyond what is required or
sustainable.
And
so confessing helps us recognize and turn from our sin to new and better ways
of being in the world. When we
confess our sins, then we cry out with the tax collector. “God, be merciful to
me, a sinner!” Confessing our sin
even functions as a corrective so that we do not fall into the trap of the
Pharisee and judge others as more sinful than us. Because that’s not what it’s about. It’s not a tit-for-tat game of who
sinned more or worse. We are all
sinners, we are all caught up in systems of oppression, and we all act in ways
that tear down ourselves and others.
And
so we cry out for God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, God’s love. And God gladly and freely grants us
forgiveness. While confession and
forgiveness do not erase what we’ve done or not done—we still have to face the
natural consequences of our actions—through confession and forgiveness, God
creates the space for us to try again, to do better. That is part of the forgiveness in confession and
forgiveness—the guarantee that God forgives you entirely and the call to
do better in the future.
God’s
love is so great that it covers us all, from the Pharisee, who, though he is
righteous, falls into judging the other and trying to set himself too far
apart, to the tax collector, whose job betrays his community and supports
oppressive forces at work in the Roman empire.
God’s
love also calls to mind the ways we do
God’s will—the ways God is at work
through us, the ways we don’t totally mess up, the times when we are not
“thieves, rogues, adulterers.” Our
sin ripples out, affecting many, but so does God’s love. God’s love ripples out from each of us
and its ripples are far greater than those of our sin. As we receive God’s forgiveness, God’s
love surrounds us and spreads outward like water breaking through a dam.
God’s
love and forgiveness call to mind God’s covenantal relationship with us collectively
as a community of faith—that we are in this together. God’s love is for us altogether. That is the joy and celebration in our response to forgiveness—that
“this [one goes] down to [their] home justified alongside the other.”
We pray and confess together and we are justified together.
Our
sins are forgiven, our good deeds lifted up, and in all of that, we rest in
God’s love. We take comfort in trusting
that God’s love goes deeper than our worst shortfalls, our worst sins, our
worst regrets, and God’s love lifts us up together higher than we could ever
imagine or attempt to earn on our own.
It
is God’s love that binds us together in a covenant of forgiveness.
It
is God’s love that spreads from us throughout the world.
And
it is God’s love that brings justice and peace into the world.
Thanks
be to God.
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