November 28, 2010
Seattle Mennonite Church
First Sunday of Advent
Matthew 24.36-44
We know what to say about some scriptures. Love your neighbor, do justice, follow Jesus. There are words we write on our hearts. We are Anabaptists, after all, and we believe the Bible is an authority for our believing and our living. We believe it holds stories we can build our lives upon; it reveals a message that gives meaning to what it means to be human, a message that works into our bodies and souls that shows us the heart of life. Some passages in the Bible send us a message that stretches across time and space with obvious insight for our spiritual edification. And then there’s our gospel lesson for today.
“Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.”
Perhaps as Mike and Weldon led us into the text you thought of the old Christian worship song from the 60s and 70s:
A man and wife asleep in bed, she hears a noise and turns her head, he’s gone
I wish we’d all been ready
Two men walking up a hill, one disappears and one’s left standing still
I wish we’d all been ready
There’s no time to change your mind, the Son has come and you’ve been left behind
Or maybe you thought of the popular Left Behind series, which first appeared in the mid-1990s and tells in dramatic fiction the story of the end of the world from a Christian dispensationalist point of view. If we want to get technical, we’d categorize this as pretribulation, premillennial apocalyptic eschatology. In fact, there’s a whole Christian sub-culture out there: music, books, churches, even institutions of higher education whose worldview is shaped by a very particular understanding of the second coming Jesus Christ.
We are living in the end times, they say. The wars, the nuclear threats, the global unrest have all been foreshadowed and God’s judgment is upon us. History is about to be transformed by cosmic, cataclysmic events so get ready because Jesus is coming.
Today is the first day of Advent, the first day of the liturgical year. We enter a season of waiting, hoping, preparing, praying for Jesus to come to us and for God’s kingdom to break into our lives. The sanctuary has been prepared. The first candle is lit. We are singing Advent hymns. Jesus is coming.
Our text today is all about Jesus coming but not in the way we might expect.
It’s an apocalyptic text, a style or genre that has to do with the ultimate destiny of the world, reminding us in clear and dualistic terms that good will come and triumph over the current reign of evil. Apocalyptic scriptures can be grandiose and unrestrained; they can hold cosmic, mysterious visions and often include the disputed cosmic figure, the Son of Man, who depending on the scripture, may or may not be Jesus. You’ll find similarities in all kinds of scripture: Daniel chapters 7-12, Joel, Revelation, lots of apocryphal and extrabiblical material.
Today’s specific apocalyptic gospel reading falls within what scholars call “The Judgment Discourse.” Matthew 23:1 to 25:46 is one long speech. Suddenly Jesus’ coming is with terrible woes and with judgment and wrath. It’s an uncomfortable picture, a far cry from the baby in a stable that most of us would rather hope for at Advent.
For the original community of Matthew, this would have been a wake up call. You see, they were urban, wealthy, comfortable. It had been more than forty years since Jesus’ death, and their initial fervor and faithful discipleship was waning. They had become complacent, lethargic, sleepy. And Matthew asks them to shape up, wake up, be alert. It may not feel urgent or immediate, but it is. Jesus is coming.
There’s a bumper sticker out there that says, “Warning, in case of rapture, the driver of this car will suddenly disappear.” Maybe you’ve seen it. And maybe you’ve seen the second generation of rapture bumper stickers: “When the rapture comes, can I have your car?” The one I like better though says, “Warning, in case of the rapture, the driver of this car will be pulled over rethinking his eschatology.” Let’s set aside the fact that rapture is not a word that even appears in the Bible. And let’s set aside the possible difference in our own eschatologies, in our own beliefs about the end times. Regardless of which bumper sticker would be on your car, we need to understand that the community that produced this text was vastly different from us.
Our post-Enlightenment worldview is pragmatic, informed by reason and the physical and social sciences. These days not many of us believe that a cosmic judge will suddenly appear from the heavens and separate the good from the evil. To put it plainly, we think about the world differently than Matthew’s community. So what are we to do when such a wild text confronts us?
But about the day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven nor the Son… Keep awake therefore for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming… Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.
All the usual answers don’t quite fit. Do justice. Work for peace. Jesus loves me. The text doesn’t give us these kinds of instruction. Instead it says: no one knows. Keep awake. Be ready. Pay attention.
So how do we pay attention? How do we wake up?
As I was thinking about sleeping and waking, I thought of my partner Jamie who is a pastor at another church here in Seattle. Like her dad, Jamie struggles with falling asleep. She goes through occasional periods of insomnia, only getting two or three hours of sleep a night. Meanwhile, I average at least eight and a half hours. For Jamie, this can be frustrating. She’s tossing and turning or watching bad infomercials on television and I am resting peacefully.
Our scripture seems to encourage Jamie’s unfortunate pattern. If the owner of the house had known what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and not let his house be broken into. But because I live with someone who has trouble sleeping, I know that too many nights of watchfulness can make a person frustrated and very, very tired. One can only remain alert for a short period of time. Our attention spans are not infinite, after all. One person can only be awake through the night every so often.
Our friends and members who sleep on the streets or at camps outside know this best. There comes a point in time when we simply cannot see everything alone and we need someone else to help us keep watch.
To see Jesus coming, we need each other.
Those of us who have secure jobs and homes need those experiencing homelessness to remind us that Jesus was homeless. And perhaps then we’ll see Jesus coming not in this sanctuary but in that one, out there beyond the doors.
Those of you who are straight need those of us who are gay, lesbian, transgender and queer to remind you that Jesus journeyed with a family of choice and that he didn’t fit into the normal patterns of family around him. And then perhaps we’ll see Jesus coming in loving relationships that have overcome many obstacles to thrive in an unfriendly world.
Those of us who have academic degrees and can fit in with the educated aristocracy of this country, need those with different kinds of education to remind us that our systems of making money and measuring worth are upside down. And then perhaps we’ll see Jesus who was born in a barn coming today in a place and an hour unexpected.
One time I took a group from another church to serve at a Friday evening community meal over in the University District. We spent the evening dishing up soup and visiting with the folks who came through the line. One particular youth who was there was a handful that evening. “Are we done yet? Can we go now?” He asked over and over. By all medical measurements, Bradley had an attention problem. He took medication for it, to regulate his moods and his ability to focus, but that evening he wasn’t behaving in the way that I might have hoped for him.
Later that night we all sat down around a table together and I asked the group a reflection question: “Where did you see God?” The oldest person with us was quick to answer. A wisened senior citizen said, “Oh I didn’t see God. But I’m glad we could do this good thing to help people in need.”
I was disappointed in the old man’s answer. I had hoped he’d be more of an example for the youth who were with us. I had hoped he’d have something more thoughtful to say, and then much to my surprise, Bradley, who I thought wasn’t even paying attention, said with quick enthusiasm, “Oh I saw Jesus. I saw Jesus…” Maybe Bradley’s attention span doesn’t work so well when it comes to getting things done or being in control. Maybe he is surprising, or unexpected? He went on to describe one particular person through whom he had encountered the light of Christ breaking into the world.
Today maybe not in cosmic glory with judgment and wrath. Maybe around a table in the U-District some Friday evening.
This is Good News, my friends. Wake up. Advent is here. Pay attention. Jesus is coming.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Reflections on Ephesians 1.1-14
October 31, 2010
Seattle Mennonite Church
The writer Anne Lamott has said that she has two basic prayers in her simple Christianity. “Help, help, help” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The scripture for our worship today, Ephesians 1.1-14 falls into the latter category. It is the scriptural expression of our worship theme, that God’s good gifts to us inspire our praise.
As with any text, there are dozens of sides and shapes that make up this scripture both in its time and in our time, but today I want us to learn and remember two things about these first fourteen verses of Ephesians.
First, written into this passage is a certain understanding of the universe, a cosmology. It has something to say about space and time. In the world of the first century, the earth was considered to be the center of the universe with sun, stars, and planets revolving around it and layers of different substances – of death and decay and also fire and air – surrounded the earth.
The writer of Ephesians works within this cosmology – notice how he talks about the heavenly places in verse 3 and also heaven and earth in verse 10. But the writer also transcends this cosmology. God chose us not in and through the world but before the foundation of the world. Before earth or heaven or the big bang or the creation of light and dark. And again in verse ten, God will gather all things into Godself in the fullness of time.
This is an expansive vision of the universe as God’s body. This is a comprehensive vision of God’s redemption and salvation, subverting the dualisms of the world into a greater wholeness. These early Christians in first-century Asia Minor were a minority, but here is a vision that embraces all things, the entire creation in the divine plan with Christians at the center because they belonged to the risen Lord.
And second, this passage is a eulogy. We most often think of eulogies in the context of a funeral, a tribute to somebody who has recently died. But a eulogy is also a speech or piece of writing that praises somebody or something very highly. This is a eulogy to God. Verse 3 – blessed be the God who has blessed us with spiritual blessings; verse 4 – God has chosen us; verse 5 – God has destined us as God’s children and so on… freely bestowing grace, offering forgiveness, lavishing upon us riches.
In the original Greek, verses 3-14 are one sentence in poetic style. This is not dogma or instruction that explains exactly what to think or feel. This is not the time or place where we figure out exactly what forgiveness and redemption and salvation mean. Instead, this is the time and place where we rejoice that we are indeed forgiven, redeemed, and saved. God is worthy of such high praise for all that God has done for us, embracing us in a divine cosmology. These words give us images and themes that suggest God’s intimate and ongoing involvement in our world. We are God’s own people.
And our response is, and appropriately so, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Seattle Mennonite Church
The writer Anne Lamott has said that she has two basic prayers in her simple Christianity. “Help, help, help” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The scripture for our worship today, Ephesians 1.1-14 falls into the latter category. It is the scriptural expression of our worship theme, that God’s good gifts to us inspire our praise.
As with any text, there are dozens of sides and shapes that make up this scripture both in its time and in our time, but today I want us to learn and remember two things about these first fourteen verses of Ephesians.
First, written into this passage is a certain understanding of the universe, a cosmology. It has something to say about space and time. In the world of the first century, the earth was considered to be the center of the universe with sun, stars, and planets revolving around it and layers of different substances – of death and decay and also fire and air – surrounded the earth.
The writer of Ephesians works within this cosmology – notice how he talks about the heavenly places in verse 3 and also heaven and earth in verse 10. But the writer also transcends this cosmology. God chose us not in and through the world but before the foundation of the world. Before earth or heaven or the big bang or the creation of light and dark. And again in verse ten, God will gather all things into Godself in the fullness of time.
This is an expansive vision of the universe as God’s body. This is a comprehensive vision of God’s redemption and salvation, subverting the dualisms of the world into a greater wholeness. These early Christians in first-century Asia Minor were a minority, but here is a vision that embraces all things, the entire creation in the divine plan with Christians at the center because they belonged to the risen Lord.
And second, this passage is a eulogy. We most often think of eulogies in the context of a funeral, a tribute to somebody who has recently died. But a eulogy is also a speech or piece of writing that praises somebody or something very highly. This is a eulogy to God. Verse 3 – blessed be the God who has blessed us with spiritual blessings; verse 4 – God has chosen us; verse 5 – God has destined us as God’s children and so on… freely bestowing grace, offering forgiveness, lavishing upon us riches.
In the original Greek, verses 3-14 are one sentence in poetic style. This is not dogma or instruction that explains exactly what to think or feel. This is not the time or place where we figure out exactly what forgiveness and redemption and salvation mean. Instead, this is the time and place where we rejoice that we are indeed forgiven, redeemed, and saved. God is worthy of such high praise for all that God has done for us, embracing us in a divine cosmology. These words give us images and themes that suggest God’s intimate and ongoing involvement in our world. We are God’s own people.
And our response is, and appropriately so, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Pouring
October 17, 2010
Seattle Mennonite Church
Joel 2.23-32
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
I don’t mean the drizzle that passes for rain here in Seattle, those dry rains for which the natives don’t even pull out their umbrellas. I mean downpour – stop the car on the highway because you can’t see through the sheets of water rain. Soaked to the bone in two seconds flat rain. Thunderstorms sweeping over the Rocky Mountains and out onto the wide open plains rain. Knock you out of your normal, maybe there’s a reason humans talk so much about the weather rain. Restore the land in one afternoon after months of drought rain? Last summer there was one weekend in July when the rains came to my dad’s farm in south central Kansas. Three days it rained, and it saved the corn. A $50,000 rain, he said.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
The book of Joel is an overlooked part of our sacred scripture that offers a grand vision. Joel is a minor prophet, stuck between Hosea and Amos, one of those books that is hard to find when you’re looking for its three chapters within the 1,189 chapters of the Bible. But it’s an amazing book. In three short chapters Joel tells the human story of despair and repair, a story of desolation and restoration, a story we all know, one of drought and rain. By the end of chapter two, which we have heard from today, the people, the Israelites, had already been through drought, famine, and locust invasions. The country was in ruins. And in the midst of the struggle there was a clear call for repentance and prayer. And in the midst of the repentance and prayer there was a merciful response from God. Our scripture today tells of fertility restored to the ground, fruit trees bearing abundant fruit, threshing floors and wine vats filled once again, and abundant covenant blessings. And it doesn’t stop there, doesn’t stop with material restoration, for after the land is healed, so are the people. The text says:
I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.
Your old men shall dream dreams.
And your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves in those days I will pour out my spirit.
Ahh – it’s a grand vision, an Anabaptist vision – this is that the church can be.
The three-week worship series we begin today on empowering God’s people starts right here in Joel chapter 2 with the creative love of God generously giving gifts to all. God fills us, empowers us to follow Jesus in our words and deeds and to use our gifts in service to the church. This text from Joel, echoed later in the Pentecost story of Acts 2 is a timeless passage that captures a key message from the biblical tradition.
All flesh, all God’s people have a role. Everyone in the congregation is a leader in their own way – prophesying, dreaming dreams, seeing visions. No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, God calls you followers of Jesus to a vocation of faith, to a ministry in this world. By virtue of God’s spirit pouring over us, no matter our station in life, no matter our age, race, housing status, or sexual orientation, we are gifted to minister.
Oh it’s a grand vision.
And then there’s what we really are. We are busy. We are tired. We are weary. And our dreams are restless. And the visions do not come.
JENNIFER DELANTY: I am exhausted. I am so tired. I just want to sit down. I just need to rest. This past week was so stressful at work and now half the weekend is already behind me. Everything I pushed off ‘til the weekend to get done around the house still isn’t finished, and I’ve gotta go back to work tomorrow. All the bills, housework and laundry are piling up and it didn’t help that I had to spend a few hours in the office yesterday just to keep up with the dozens of files sitting on my desk. (phew!)
We barely got here to church on time this morning. Motivating the kids to leave their warm beds and get up as they have to do during the school week is a challenge. I try to let them sleep a little longer; no matter how early I get them up, we still scramble to get properly dressed and eat breakfast so we can early enough to allow 30 minutes to get to church. Usually we leave with only 15-20 minutes to spare, though, including today. Tamping down their grumpiness and disagreements sure zaps my limited energy. The dreary rain and overcast skies didn’t help, either; I wanted to stay in bed, too.
But here we are, and I’m glad we’re here. But I’m just so tired! Would anyone think less of me if I just sat here and did nothing but rest? Would anyone fault me for coming to church just so I can have one hour out of the week away from the demands of work, home, marriage and parenting? Is it OK to just be? Most of my life feels like I’m a human doing in lieu of a human being. I’m not trying to have a pity party, I’m just so exhausted and overwhelmed by all the demands!
Goodness, tears are falling out of my eyes. I am so glad I’m here. I need this place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God. Help me find Your center, dear Lord, blanket me with Your peace. Help me calm down and just be, here and now.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour? I don’t mean the irritation that comes with one bad day; I mean a downpour: the struggle of having too many things to do for the time you have; chronic unemployment and question of your own worth; mental health struggles that the world doesn’t understand; managing kids and a job and a family and church responsibilities all in the space of one life. How many of us have been there? How many of us are there? How many of us will be there again.
The great teacher and preacher Barbara Brown Taylor explains. “Affirming the ministry of every baptized Christian is not an idea that appeals to many… people these days. It sounds like more work, and most… have all the work they can do. It sounds like more responsibility, while most… are staggering under loads that are already too heavy.” She tells a short story: “I will never forget the woman who listened to my speech on the ministry of [all God’s people] and said, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be that important.’” (The Preaching Life)
Joel’s potent call to the ministry and leadership of all of God’s people can feel more like a burden than a blessing.
Unless, unless the calling is less being and doing than we realize.
One of my teenage summers, my family was on our regular vacation from Kansas to Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. We had been out on a boat in the water when the thunderclouds that had been forming in the west swept over that Ozarks lake and caught us in a downpour. We made our way as fast as we could to the dock, and my dad navigated us into the covered boat slip. We were safe from the downpour, sheltered under the symphony that rain makes on a tin roof. What happened next shocked my teenage self. Instead of taking off his life jacket and hurrying toward the cabin like the rest of us, my dad hopped out of the boat, took three running steps and leapt into the lake, downpour and all.
Barbara Brown Taylor continues: “Like many of those who sit beside her at church, she hears the invitation as an invitation to do more – to lead the every member canvass, or cook supper for the homeless, or teach vacation church school. Or she hears the invitation to ministry as an invitation to be more – to be more generous, more loving, more religious.” … “No one has ever introduced her to the idea that her ministry might involve being just who she already is and doing just what she already does, with one difference: namely, that she understands herself to be God’s person in and for [God’s] world.”
I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.
Your old men shall dream dreams.
And your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves in those days I will pour out my spirit.
This one verse, Joel 2.28, despite what our active, busy minds might hear most, is less about doing, less about being, and more about pouring. The phrase “I will pour out my spirit” bookends our call; twice God says, I will pour out my spirit onto you. The text invites us to stay a while in the creative, generous abundance of God, to not move too quickly to the prophesying and dreaming.
Just in being who you are, you are leaders, you are ministers, you are channels of the spirit of God. The call is not a call to do more. It is not a call to be more. It is a call to name and claim what you are already doing as God’s. To see God pouring her abundant gifts onto her people. To see that you, people of God, have been caught in a downpour.
So I invite you to stay a while in the pouring of the spirit. And I invite you to return to it over and over again. Let it fall upon you and drench you in two seconds flat. Let it repair and restore you. Take three steps from under your tin roof… See yourself, at least in your best moments, as God’s person and not your own.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
When a spare moment comes to you sitting at your desk, riding the bus, searching for a job, wrestling with addiction, sitting with your family, remember you are God’s person. And let the spirit pour.
Seattle Mennonite Church
Joel 2.23-32
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
I don’t mean the drizzle that passes for rain here in Seattle, those dry rains for which the natives don’t even pull out their umbrellas. I mean downpour – stop the car on the highway because you can’t see through the sheets of water rain. Soaked to the bone in two seconds flat rain. Thunderstorms sweeping over the Rocky Mountains and out onto the wide open plains rain. Knock you out of your normal, maybe there’s a reason humans talk so much about the weather rain. Restore the land in one afternoon after months of drought rain? Last summer there was one weekend in July when the rains came to my dad’s farm in south central Kansas. Three days it rained, and it saved the corn. A $50,000 rain, he said.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
The book of Joel is an overlooked part of our sacred scripture that offers a grand vision. Joel is a minor prophet, stuck between Hosea and Amos, one of those books that is hard to find when you’re looking for its three chapters within the 1,189 chapters of the Bible. But it’s an amazing book. In three short chapters Joel tells the human story of despair and repair, a story of desolation and restoration, a story we all know, one of drought and rain. By the end of chapter two, which we have heard from today, the people, the Israelites, had already been through drought, famine, and locust invasions. The country was in ruins. And in the midst of the struggle there was a clear call for repentance and prayer. And in the midst of the repentance and prayer there was a merciful response from God. Our scripture today tells of fertility restored to the ground, fruit trees bearing abundant fruit, threshing floors and wine vats filled once again, and abundant covenant blessings. And it doesn’t stop there, doesn’t stop with material restoration, for after the land is healed, so are the people. The text says:
I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.
Your old men shall dream dreams.
And your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves in those days I will pour out my spirit.
Ahh – it’s a grand vision, an Anabaptist vision – this is that the church can be.
The three-week worship series we begin today on empowering God’s people starts right here in Joel chapter 2 with the creative love of God generously giving gifts to all. God fills us, empowers us to follow Jesus in our words and deeds and to use our gifts in service to the church. This text from Joel, echoed later in the Pentecost story of Acts 2 is a timeless passage that captures a key message from the biblical tradition.
All flesh, all God’s people have a role. Everyone in the congregation is a leader in their own way – prophesying, dreaming dreams, seeing visions. No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey, God calls you followers of Jesus to a vocation of faith, to a ministry in this world. By virtue of God’s spirit pouring over us, no matter our station in life, no matter our age, race, housing status, or sexual orientation, we are gifted to minister.
Oh it’s a grand vision.
And then there’s what we really are. We are busy. We are tired. We are weary. And our dreams are restless. And the visions do not come.
JENNIFER DELANTY: I am exhausted. I am so tired. I just want to sit down. I just need to rest. This past week was so stressful at work and now half the weekend is already behind me. Everything I pushed off ‘til the weekend to get done around the house still isn’t finished, and I’ve gotta go back to work tomorrow. All the bills, housework and laundry are piling up and it didn’t help that I had to spend a few hours in the office yesterday just to keep up with the dozens of files sitting on my desk. (phew!)
We barely got here to church on time this morning. Motivating the kids to leave their warm beds and get up as they have to do during the school week is a challenge. I try to let them sleep a little longer; no matter how early I get them up, we still scramble to get properly dressed and eat breakfast so we can early enough to allow 30 minutes to get to church. Usually we leave with only 15-20 minutes to spare, though, including today. Tamping down their grumpiness and disagreements sure zaps my limited energy. The dreary rain and overcast skies didn’t help, either; I wanted to stay in bed, too.
But here we are, and I’m glad we’re here. But I’m just so tired! Would anyone think less of me if I just sat here and did nothing but rest? Would anyone fault me for coming to church just so I can have one hour out of the week away from the demands of work, home, marriage and parenting? Is it OK to just be? Most of my life feels like I’m a human doing in lieu of a human being. I’m not trying to have a pity party, I’m just so exhausted and overwhelmed by all the demands!
Goodness, tears are falling out of my eyes. I am so glad I’m here. I need this place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God. Help me find Your center, dear Lord, blanket me with Your peace. Help me calm down and just be, here and now.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour? I don’t mean the irritation that comes with one bad day; I mean a downpour: the struggle of having too many things to do for the time you have; chronic unemployment and question of your own worth; mental health struggles that the world doesn’t understand; managing kids and a job and a family and church responsibilities all in the space of one life. How many of us have been there? How many of us are there? How many of us will be there again.
The great teacher and preacher Barbara Brown Taylor explains. “Affirming the ministry of every baptized Christian is not an idea that appeals to many… people these days. It sounds like more work, and most… have all the work they can do. It sounds like more responsibility, while most… are staggering under loads that are already too heavy.” She tells a short story: “I will never forget the woman who listened to my speech on the ministry of [all God’s people] and said, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be that important.’” (The Preaching Life)
Joel’s potent call to the ministry and leadership of all of God’s people can feel more like a burden than a blessing.
Unless, unless the calling is less being and doing than we realize.
One of my teenage summers, my family was on our regular vacation from Kansas to Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. We had been out on a boat in the water when the thunderclouds that had been forming in the west swept over that Ozarks lake and caught us in a downpour. We made our way as fast as we could to the dock, and my dad navigated us into the covered boat slip. We were safe from the downpour, sheltered under the symphony that rain makes on a tin roof. What happened next shocked my teenage self. Instead of taking off his life jacket and hurrying toward the cabin like the rest of us, my dad hopped out of the boat, took three running steps and leapt into the lake, downpour and all.
Barbara Brown Taylor continues: “Like many of those who sit beside her at church, she hears the invitation as an invitation to do more – to lead the every member canvass, or cook supper for the homeless, or teach vacation church school. Or she hears the invitation to ministry as an invitation to be more – to be more generous, more loving, more religious.” … “No one has ever introduced her to the idea that her ministry might involve being just who she already is and doing just what she already does, with one difference: namely, that she understands herself to be God’s person in and for [God’s] world.”
I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.
Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.
Your old men shall dream dreams.
And your young men shall see visions.
Even on the male and female slaves in those days I will pour out my spirit.
This one verse, Joel 2.28, despite what our active, busy minds might hear most, is less about doing, less about being, and more about pouring. The phrase “I will pour out my spirit” bookends our call; twice God says, I will pour out my spirit onto you. The text invites us to stay a while in the creative, generous abundance of God, to not move too quickly to the prophesying and dreaming.
Just in being who you are, you are leaders, you are ministers, you are channels of the spirit of God. The call is not a call to do more. It is not a call to be more. It is a call to name and claim what you are already doing as God’s. To see God pouring her abundant gifts onto her people. To see that you, people of God, have been caught in a downpour.
So I invite you to stay a while in the pouring of the spirit. And I invite you to return to it over and over again. Let it fall upon you and drench you in two seconds flat. Let it repair and restore you. Take three steps from under your tin roof… See yourself, at least in your best moments, as God’s person and not your own.
Have you ever been caught in a downpour?
When a spare moment comes to you sitting at your desk, riding the bus, searching for a job, wrestling with addiction, sitting with your family, remember you are God’s person. And let the spirit pour.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
What Do You See?
Thursday night I hopped on my bike to ride the approximately six miles home from Lake City to Crown Hill, from northeast to northwest Seattle. It was about 10 p.m. and the Pastoral Care Team meeting at Seattle Mennonite Church had ended in time for me to finish up Sunday's worship order, send out an announcement for the "communicator" and gather up my sermon materials for writing and editing the next day. I've come to appreciate these night rides, when the traffic is light and the city is peaceful.
I pulled out of the courtyard onto 125th, and while I was waiting at the light to turn left onto Lake City Way, I noticed three teenage boys standing around a middle-age woman off of the corner between the bus stop and the ATM. I looked again and realized I had met the woman before, either at the drop-in or on the street. I looked again and realized, as the three boys walked away, that a transaction had just happened.
There's a man who I've come to know over the last few years of being around the church. He's a big man, sometimes loud and intimidating, sometimes overbearing and in my bubble space, sometimes charismatic and generally friendly. In our conversations, "Dan" will occasionally mention that he saw me the other day. Then he'll add, "But you didn't see me." He's right. I didn't see him. And because I didn't see him, I couldn't see him. Occasionally he'll go on to say, "We're everywhere. Do you see us?"
So much depends on where we look and how we look.
Outside the Greenwood library the other day there were two people, a man and a woman smoking. I passed by them and smelled alcohol from about ten feet away. My instinct, my gut reaction was to look away, to pretend like I didn't see, to go on with my business, and to forget they were there. To walk past the lingering smell into fresh, pure air and to forget about their second hand clothes. To cycle comfortably on into my own privilege, my small and heated apartment, my meaningful work. To never be changed and formed, to never be disrupted.
I'm six and a half weeks into my year as a Mennonite pastor. Each week I see something new. Of course there are the worship experiences, the meetings, the joyous time with our youth, the visioning and listening and accompanying tasks of the pastor. But my true formation as a person of God is wrapped somehow into the transaction Thursday night off the corner of 125th and Lake City Way. I'm not sure what that means yet, but the question persists: what do you see?
I pulled out of the courtyard onto 125th, and while I was waiting at the light to turn left onto Lake City Way, I noticed three teenage boys standing around a middle-age woman off of the corner between the bus stop and the ATM. I looked again and realized I had met the woman before, either at the drop-in or on the street. I looked again and realized, as the three boys walked away, that a transaction had just happened.
There's a man who I've come to know over the last few years of being around the church. He's a big man, sometimes loud and intimidating, sometimes overbearing and in my bubble space, sometimes charismatic and generally friendly. In our conversations, "Dan" will occasionally mention that he saw me the other day. Then he'll add, "But you didn't see me." He's right. I didn't see him. And because I didn't see him, I couldn't see him. Occasionally he'll go on to say, "We're everywhere. Do you see us?"
So much depends on where we look and how we look.
Outside the Greenwood library the other day there were two people, a man and a woman smoking. I passed by them and smelled alcohol from about ten feet away. My instinct, my gut reaction was to look away, to pretend like I didn't see, to go on with my business, and to forget they were there. To walk past the lingering smell into fresh, pure air and to forget about their second hand clothes. To cycle comfortably on into my own privilege, my small and heated apartment, my meaningful work. To never be changed and formed, to never be disrupted.
I'm six and a half weeks into my year as a Mennonite pastor. Each week I see something new. Of course there are the worship experiences, the meetings, the joyous time with our youth, the visioning and listening and accompanying tasks of the pastor. But my true formation as a person of God is wrapped somehow into the transaction Thursday night off the corner of 125th and Lake City Way. I'm not sure what that means yet, but the question persists: what do you see?
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Word becomes
Seattle Mennonite Church
September 19, 2010
We turn our attention to the convictions that connect us as a global Mennonite community, beyond the Pacific Northwest Conference and beyond Mennonite Church USA to include the worldwide communion of those who practice the Mennonite faith.
As Melanie has reminded us, today is the second Sunday in our series “Believing Together.” We continue to turn our attention to the convictions that connect us as a global Mennonite community, beyond the Pacific Northwest Conference and beyond Mennonite Church USA to include the worldwide communion of those who practice the Mennonite faith.
Last week our worship celebrated the triune expression of God as creator, Christ, and spirit. Weldon began the sermon time by posing this question to us: “If someone asked, ‘Do you believe in one God or three gods?’ how would you answer?” Someone very witty and clever sitting in my vicinity simply answered, “Yes.” I, on the other hand, was stumped and quickly bumbled through a long series of questions in my head, which of course remain unresolved. Ah the mysteries of our faith.
This week in believing together we turn to our sacred text, the Bible as authority for faith and life. So I want to begin by saying right from the get-go – the scripture as authority for our obedience – no less a mystery, no less the object of confusion, no less deserving of bumbling responses. And so with that, Lord please bless the speaking and hearing of this word.
Today as a congregation we affirmed the authority of scripture in this place and beyond. Consider for example some of today’s bumper sticker theology:
In many ways this reverence for scripture was the trademark of the Protestant Reformation that began in the first half of the sixteenth century, nearly 500 years ago. Religious reformers began to pull away from the comprehensive authority of the Roman Catholic Church, insisting that scripture alone was the authority for faith. Anyone could read scripture; anyone could meet God in the Bible; anyone could interpret the mysteries of the faith.
The early Anabaptists were the most radical of the breakaway groups, insisting even more stringently on the literal authority of scripture for faith and life. One of the early leaders, Menno Simons, for whom we Mennonites are named wrote in 1539-40, “No one of a rational mind will be so foolish as to deny that the whole Scriptures, both the Old and New Testament, were written for our instruction, admonition, and correction, and that they are the true scepter and rule by which the Lord’s kingdom, house, church, and congregation must be ruled and governed.” He goes on to say, “Everything contrary to Scripture, therefore, whether it be doctrines, beliefs, sacraments, worship, or life, should be measured by this infallible rule.” (from Foundation of Christian Doctrine) The Word becomes infallible rule.
Menno Simons understood his life, his personhood, his experiences in the world through the framework of scripture. And other Anabaptists did as well, literally immersing their lives in the biblical texts. As the stories go, untrained lay brethren easily matched wits with trained doctors of theology who questioned them about scripture. Some folks made it their goal to memorize one hundred chapters of the New Testament, which is equivalent to Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Philippians, Colossians, and 2 Timothy. Really – can you imagine? Indeed profound affirmations of the authority of scripture are writ large on our history as a people.
But a recent article in our denomination’s monthly periodical describes a vastly different Mennonite biblical landscape. Mennonite professors lament decreasing biblical literacy among their incoming college students, students who don’t know the story, how the pieces of our sacred scripture fit together. Young people, or maybe all people are not receiving the comprehensive biblical formation needed to carry on the Biblicism, the reverence for scripture of those who have come before. Some would say it’s the end of our faith as we know it.
And no wonder, for the Bible looks different than it used to. Thanks to a couple of centuries of biblical scholarship, we know that the Bible was composed over many years by many authors from many different places. We know that none of the original manuscripts exist today and that many of the first manuscripts were the second or third version of oral histories, each account tweaked or adapted in some way. We know that different, even contradictory perspectives are captured in these texts. not to mention the books that didn’t make it into the Bible, not to mention the fact that the canon, our 66 books of scripture, was not set until the year 367, nearly three hundred years after the latest book was written. And besides all these textual and canonical and historical inconsistencies and puzzles, there are the theological ones:
Our sacred scripture, our beloved Bible, our rule for faith and life has decisively patriarchal narratives, stories of colonialism and domination, religious exclusivism and persecution of those who think or believe differently. It is at times homophobic, racist, xenophobic, and exceedingly violent. At other times it is baffling, and that at worst – at absolute worst, it seems irrelevant, with nothing to say for our time and this place. The Word becomes oppressive, the Word becomes dangerous, the Word becomes disconnected from our experiences as human beings.
There are certainly biblical scholars, theologians, and otherwise devoted people some in our midst today, who dig into the text with profound wisdom, who sort through these difficulties for the keys to our faith. But for many of us, when we look at the formation of our sacred scriptures, and when we hold up our biggest questions to them, these sacred Words of God don’t seem so sacred. They don’t seem inspired. They don’t even seem like they matter. In fact, our anxious response is often to disengage, to shut down and stop asking the questions, to leave the Bible to the experts and to turn to something that seems more immediate and more important for our lives.
Do we give up on the Bible? Do we look for a better book? Do we cut out the disturbing parts? Do we simply hang on to our favorite themes and discard the rest? Is it the end of our biblical faith as we once knew it? What’s a modern Mennonite to do?
This morning may I suggest that we start again at the beginning.
John chapter one: In the beginning there was the Word; the Word was in God’s presence, and the Word was God. The Word was present to God from the beginning. Through the Word all things came into being… Through the Word was life and the Word took on flesh.
From the very beginning, words were important. In the first creation account, Genesis chapter 1, in the beginning God created by speaking words: “And God said, ‘Let the be light..’ And there was light.” Words, these words of ours are important.
John chapter one again – In the beginning there was the Word. Through the Word was life and the Word took on flesh. You know what happens when Words take on flesh. When the eternal is thrust into the temporal, when ideas and dreams fall into reality and the text comes off the page. You know that flesh covers bones and muscles, which break and scrape and tear. Flesh is something you feel with your own hands and see with your own eyes. Word become flesh doubts and cries and bleeds and later is crucified.
We are people of the Word. Without the Word, we are not a people. Our scripture is not sacred and authoritative because each letter and verse is true or because it was dictated by the holy spirit or because it is a decree for how we should live. The Bible is not a flesh free of scars or sins, and yes it is filled with contradictions. Yet it is authoritative because from the beginning we came to it, and today to the Word we return, seeking a fresh interpretation.
Each time we open this sacred book the Word becomes again, for each time we open it our own flesh has changed, hearts that carry a new scar or souls that sing a new joy. It is not what the Word becomes. It is that it becomes again and again. And each time we come, we are welcomed to come again, to pose a new question and let the spirit uncover a new possibility for interpretation.
The Word of God is more dynamic than we ever thought possible and more inclusive than we’ve been taught before. The horizon of the text stretches from the 1st century to today and beyond. And the Word still acts upon us as we look to Jesus as a model for discipleship, for thinking and acting in the world. As we find comfort in the words of the Psalms or advice or instruction in one of Paul’s epistle or a story of justice in the prophets of old. The Word still acts upon us we ask of it our most difficult questions and ask them again and again. There’s some inspiration in this, something life-affirming here, something that encourages wholeness and brings us closer to our best forms of being together.
We are co-creators in this Word as with each interpretation it becomes flesh again. No question is to great, no struggle too small – all that is required is that we come again to be the people of the Word.
September 19, 2010
We turn our attention to the convictions that connect us as a global Mennonite community, beyond the Pacific Northwest Conference and beyond Mennonite Church USA to include the worldwide communion of those who practice the Mennonite faith.
As Melanie has reminded us, today is the second Sunday in our series “Believing Together.” We continue to turn our attention to the convictions that connect us as a global Mennonite community, beyond the Pacific Northwest Conference and beyond Mennonite Church USA to include the worldwide communion of those who practice the Mennonite faith.
Last week our worship celebrated the triune expression of God as creator, Christ, and spirit. Weldon began the sermon time by posing this question to us: “If someone asked, ‘Do you believe in one God or three gods?’ how would you answer?” Someone very witty and clever sitting in my vicinity simply answered, “Yes.” I, on the other hand, was stumped and quickly bumbled through a long series of questions in my head, which of course remain unresolved. Ah the mysteries of our faith.
This week in believing together we turn to our sacred text, the Bible as authority for faith and life. So I want to begin by saying right from the get-go – the scripture as authority for our obedience – no less a mystery, no less the object of confusion, no less deserving of bumbling responses. And so with that, Lord please bless the speaking and hearing of this word.
Today as a congregation we affirmed the authority of scripture in this place and beyond. Consider for example some of today’s bumper sticker theology:
- BIBLE: Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth
- Or how about this one: “If your Bible is falling apart, chances are that your life is staying together.”
- Oh, and there’s the church sign that says, “Get off Facebook and get into my book. – God”
In many ways this reverence for scripture was the trademark of the Protestant Reformation that began in the first half of the sixteenth century, nearly 500 years ago. Religious reformers began to pull away from the comprehensive authority of the Roman Catholic Church, insisting that scripture alone was the authority for faith. Anyone could read scripture; anyone could meet God in the Bible; anyone could interpret the mysteries of the faith.
The early Anabaptists were the most radical of the breakaway groups, insisting even more stringently on the literal authority of scripture for faith and life. One of the early leaders, Menno Simons, for whom we Mennonites are named wrote in 1539-40, “No one of a rational mind will be so foolish as to deny that the whole Scriptures, both the Old and New Testament, were written for our instruction, admonition, and correction, and that they are the true scepter and rule by which the Lord’s kingdom, house, church, and congregation must be ruled and governed.” He goes on to say, “Everything contrary to Scripture, therefore, whether it be doctrines, beliefs, sacraments, worship, or life, should be measured by this infallible rule.” (from Foundation of Christian Doctrine) The Word becomes infallible rule.
Menno Simons understood his life, his personhood, his experiences in the world through the framework of scripture. And other Anabaptists did as well, literally immersing their lives in the biblical texts. As the stories go, untrained lay brethren easily matched wits with trained doctors of theology who questioned them about scripture. Some folks made it their goal to memorize one hundred chapters of the New Testament, which is equivalent to Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Philippians, Colossians, and 2 Timothy. Really – can you imagine? Indeed profound affirmations of the authority of scripture are writ large on our history as a people.
But a recent article in our denomination’s monthly periodical describes a vastly different Mennonite biblical landscape. Mennonite professors lament decreasing biblical literacy among their incoming college students, students who don’t know the story, how the pieces of our sacred scripture fit together. Young people, or maybe all people are not receiving the comprehensive biblical formation needed to carry on the Biblicism, the reverence for scripture of those who have come before. Some would say it’s the end of our faith as we know it.
And no wonder, for the Bible looks different than it used to. Thanks to a couple of centuries of biblical scholarship, we know that the Bible was composed over many years by many authors from many different places. We know that none of the original manuscripts exist today and that many of the first manuscripts were the second or third version of oral histories, each account tweaked or adapted in some way. We know that different, even contradictory perspectives are captured in these texts. not to mention the books that didn’t make it into the Bible, not to mention the fact that the canon, our 66 books of scripture, was not set until the year 367, nearly three hundred years after the latest book was written. And besides all these textual and canonical and historical inconsistencies and puzzles, there are the theological ones:
Our sacred scripture, our beloved Bible, our rule for faith and life has decisively patriarchal narratives, stories of colonialism and domination, religious exclusivism and persecution of those who think or believe differently. It is at times homophobic, racist, xenophobic, and exceedingly violent. At other times it is baffling, and that at worst – at absolute worst, it seems irrelevant, with nothing to say for our time and this place. The Word becomes oppressive, the Word becomes dangerous, the Word becomes disconnected from our experiences as human beings.
There are certainly biblical scholars, theologians, and otherwise devoted people some in our midst today, who dig into the text with profound wisdom, who sort through these difficulties for the keys to our faith. But for many of us, when we look at the formation of our sacred scriptures, and when we hold up our biggest questions to them, these sacred Words of God don’t seem so sacred. They don’t seem inspired. They don’t even seem like they matter. In fact, our anxious response is often to disengage, to shut down and stop asking the questions, to leave the Bible to the experts and to turn to something that seems more immediate and more important for our lives.
Do we give up on the Bible? Do we look for a better book? Do we cut out the disturbing parts? Do we simply hang on to our favorite themes and discard the rest? Is it the end of our biblical faith as we once knew it? What’s a modern Mennonite to do?
This morning may I suggest that we start again at the beginning.
John chapter one: In the beginning there was the Word; the Word was in God’s presence, and the Word was God. The Word was present to God from the beginning. Through the Word all things came into being… Through the Word was life and the Word took on flesh.
From the very beginning, words were important. In the first creation account, Genesis chapter 1, in the beginning God created by speaking words: “And God said, ‘Let the be light..’ And there was light.” Words, these words of ours are important.
John chapter one again – In the beginning there was the Word. Through the Word was life and the Word took on flesh. You know what happens when Words take on flesh. When the eternal is thrust into the temporal, when ideas and dreams fall into reality and the text comes off the page. You know that flesh covers bones and muscles, which break and scrape and tear. Flesh is something you feel with your own hands and see with your own eyes. Word become flesh doubts and cries and bleeds and later is crucified.
We are people of the Word. Without the Word, we are not a people. Our scripture is not sacred and authoritative because each letter and verse is true or because it was dictated by the holy spirit or because it is a decree for how we should live. The Bible is not a flesh free of scars or sins, and yes it is filled with contradictions. Yet it is authoritative because from the beginning we came to it, and today to the Word we return, seeking a fresh interpretation.
Each time we open this sacred book the Word becomes again, for each time we open it our own flesh has changed, hearts that carry a new scar or souls that sing a new joy. It is not what the Word becomes. It is that it becomes again and again. And each time we come, we are welcomed to come again, to pose a new question and let the spirit uncover a new possibility for interpretation.
The Word of God is more dynamic than we ever thought possible and more inclusive than we’ve been taught before. The horizon of the text stretches from the 1st century to today and beyond. And the Word still acts upon us as we look to Jesus as a model for discipleship, for thinking and acting in the world. As we find comfort in the words of the Psalms or advice or instruction in one of Paul’s epistle or a story of justice in the prophets of old. The Word still acts upon us we ask of it our most difficult questions and ask them again and again. There’s some inspiration in this, something life-affirming here, something that encourages wholeness and brings us closer to our best forms of being together.
We are co-creators in this Word as with each interpretation it becomes flesh again. No question is to great, no struggle too small – all that is required is that we come again to be the people of the Word.
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