Luke 24:36-48
April 26, 2009
I’ve recently gotten on Facebook,
that internet webpage that helps you connect with people
all over your life
and so I’ve gotten re-connected with some of my classmates
from high school
That is weird
I graduated high school 26 years ago
and haven’t seen any of those people in all of those 26 years
It’s fun to see their pictures now --
I’m always surprised at how much they’ve aged
but with most of them, I can recognize them if I look close enough
I can recognize their eyes,
or their smile
that may have a few wrinkles added to it
or a different hairstyle and color
but usually there is something there in their face
that hasn’t really changed in 26 years
and I can see the teenager I remember
What is it that makes us who we are?
What is it about us that people can recognize in us
if they haven’t seen us for a couple of decades?
Our smile?
A dimple?
a birthmark?
something in our eyes?
Usually we see it in each other’s faces,
the person we knew and maybe loved
We look into each other’s faces to find the person we remember
But when Jesus comes back to his disciples
he shows up uninvited to their dinner party
a couple of them are talking about their walk into the town of Emmaus
about walking with a stranger
all that time they didn’t know who he was
it wasn’t until he came inside with them
broke the bread and said a blessing
they knew
and as they were telling this story,
Jesus shows up in the room
Everybody’s terrified
how did he get in?
And how did he get back from Emmaus so quickly?
Besides, stories or no stories, they know he’s dead!
Some of them saw the body
He’s supposed to be dead!
Jesus chuckles, apparently he’s not offended
“Look at me,” he says
But he doesn’t say, “look into my eyes, it’s me. “
He doesn’t say, “here, look at my smile, or the dimple on my cheek,
look into my face…”
He doesn’t say that
He says, “look at my hands and my feet… see that it’s me.”
So I got to thinking about hands and feet
Normally, if we wanted someone to recognize us,
we wouldn’t take off our shoes and say, “here, look at my feet.”
Or simply turn their attention away from our faces
and say, “look, look at my hands…”
But Jesus did
So I got to thinking about hands and feet and resurrection
Hands and feet are not usually what we notice about each other
unless, of course, there’s something different
like a finger or toe missing, or a raging scar
Normally, we don’t notice hands and feet
Sarah often complains about what she inherited from us
as far as physical characteristics
She got her big hands and fingers from her father
not sweet and delicate hands at all
Her older half-sister has always complained about that, too
Sarah gets her big feet from me
(I always said that they’re good for swimming…)
When I was a teenager on vacation down south
my Uncle David looked at my bare feet
and said, “You got yourself a firm foundation, there…”
Which was a nice way of saying, “You’ve got big feet, girl!”
Feet are pretty personal
we can be pretty self-conscious about our feet
I mean, c’mon, they’re kind of funny looking if you think about it
I find that whenever I’ve tried to get a church to
have a footwashing service
like Jesus did in the Bible,
most people don’t want to have anything to do with that
They don’t want anyone else to touch their feet
and yet, I remember once
when I was having a really hard time
and a friend of mine offered to paint my toenails
First she washed my feet in water with good-smelling stuff
that was meant to soften them up a bit
then she towel-dried them gently
and put lotion on them
It was very personal and vulnerable, of course,
but it was also soothing, comforting and healing
It made me cry
Touch is a very powerful thing
We all desperately need to be touched with gentleness
And yet we also tend to be afraid --
sometimes for very good reasons,
Our society has confused touch and intimacy
with sexual exploitation
and so we tend to be all or nothing
touch is seen as a violation and abuse
as it often is
and so we tend not to touch at all
so we’re not misunderstood
‘See my feet and my hands,’ Jesus said, ‘see that it is me’
I’ve started to notice people’s hands more lately
As I said, Larry’s hands are big and soft, very warm
his patients love it when Larry holds their hands
one man he visited in the hospital
from one of his former churches
once said that he has the hands of God
Male pastors, especially, tend to be told by parishioners
that if they’re hands are soft,
it’s obvious that they haven’t done any real work in their lives
I’ve seen many of your hands
I’ve shaken them,
I’ve put bread into them
I’ve held them when you’re in the hospital
I can remember certain people’s hands
that are particularly soft
those that tend to be cold or warm
those that prompt us to say, “cold hands, warm heart,”
as if we need to make an excuse for the temperature of our hands
Our hands contain stories about us
Sarah can show you a scar she got from falling on the gravel once
or show you a scar on her knee
from a scooter accident in Pennsylvania
“Look at my hands,” Jesus says, “and my feet,… see that it is me…”
They looked at his hands
Those hands had smeared healing mud on the eyes of the blind
or held the face of a leper
those hands held the hands of the dying
and made them warm again
Those hands held the cup of wine
and broke the bread at supper with them
those hands washed the feet of his disciples, gently, lovingly
Those hands turned over the tables of the moneychangers in the temple
and cracked a whip in anger
Those hands worked with wood over the years
created things, simple, everyday things that people hardly notice
but would notice if they weren’t there
like a table or a chair
Those same hands wiped the tears of those in grief
and held the trembling and demon-possessed
Those hands were used for blessing and loving and healing
and yet, now, as the disciples look upon them
those beautiful hands are scarred
not by a cut from a thornbush
or an errant saw in the wood shop
but those gentle hands
are marked by big, ugly, angry wounds and bruises
where a nail had pierced straight through flesh and bone
Those feet
Those feet that had walked hundreds of miles
through deserts and gardens
Those same feet that had been washed with the tears of a woman
and dried with her own hair
those feet that danced at weddings
and climbed mountains
they, too, were bruised and discolored
by horrible, violent scars
that told their own horrible story
“Look at my hands and feet,” Jesus said,
“see that it is me…”
Don’t just look at the scars that may seem so ugly to you,
but look at my hands, my feet
they are still my hands and my feet
no matter what has been done to them
they are still the hands and feet you remember
The hands that touched you with blessing
the hands that embraced you with love and acceptance
It’s me, guys!
What I love about the Resurrection
is that it shows us how important God’s creation is to God
So important, that Jesus didn’t just slough it off
and say, I don’t need a body anymore
I can just be a holy spirit
No, Jesus came back in flesh and blood
“a ghost doesn’t have flesh and bone like I do,” Jesus said
God comes to us through our bodies
So much of Christianity in the past
was about hating the body and denying it
in order to embrace the things of the spirit
but I don’t believe that God hates the body that God created
It’s a pretty masterful thing, if you think about it
why would God be ashamed of it?
I think by coming to the world wearing flesh and bone
having blood pumping through his veins
knowing the pain of a splinter
or the sensation of tired feet at the end of a day
God blessed creation
God blessed our bodies by having one
God comes to us through our bodies
As babies, we are touched by water at baptism
reminded of the creating waters of the womb
reminded even of how we were fed by our mother’s bodies
We taste the goodness of God
through dry, crumbly bread
or particularly good homemade bread
that you get to chew for a long time
We can taste God with our mouths when we take the bread in our hands
when we drink that sweet, sweet juice
and if we spill a little, we can feel its stickiness on our fingers
When I’m done serving communion,
I have hands full of bread crumbs,
that I can’t quite get all brushed off
When we pass the peace of Christ,
we shake each other’s hands
cold or warm,
sometimes we give a hug or a kiss on the cheek
but we touch each other
if someone is crying,
we rub their back, we give them a tissue
we touch them, we hold their hands
When I visit people in the hospital, there have been many times
that people who have gone through surgery
want to show me their scars
well, you don’t get much more personal than that!
As you know, those hospital gowns don’t cover much anyway
but often, male or female,
every so often, someone wants to show me their scar
I think maybe to say, hey, look at what I’ve been through
this is now a part of me
it’s a part of my story
and therefore a part of who I am
and in the years to come,
they will tell that story many times
“See my hands, see my feet, see that it really is me…”
We believe in a God that loves us
that loves what he created
God is never embarrassed by what God made
in all it’s messiness or humanness
God sees the beauty
where we might see ugliness
We know our scars, we know our wounds
some of which we can hide
some of which aren’t marked in our skin
and therefore can’t be seen by others
but they are there, and they are part of who we are
and God knows
God sees
and says, nonetheless, “you are beautiful…”
I think of Susan Boyle,
who is a 48 year old single, unemployed woman
who decided to try out for Britain’s version of
American Idol
It’s called, “Britain’s Got Talent”
She’s not attractive at all by our standards
She looks like one of our aunts that we meet at reunions
who can be kind of embarrassing,
who grabs us by face and gives us a big wet one
She doesn’t stand out in a crowd
When she walked on stage,
the judges were skeptical
When she said that she wanted to be the next Elaine Page,
a well-known Broadway star,
they obviously rolled their eyes
She didn’t even have matching stockings on
and you were pretty sure this poor woman
was going to embarrass herself
But as soon as she started singing
her voice came out so clearly and beautifully
you wondered if you were hearing Elaine Page in disguise
You could see the instant astonishment on people’s faces
and immediately while she was still singing,
the audience got to their feet, cheering and clapping
She was the ugly duckling turned into a swan ….
Now she’s all over the magazines, all over Youtube
and even with a little makeup and help with her wardrobe
she still looks like one of our aunts that we steer away from
at reunions
but now people look at her differently
they know that there is something extraordinarily beautiful inside of her
and all she has to do is open her mouth and sing
She defies the world’s accepted standards for beauty
I love it when that happens
I love it when the underdog shows off
and God turns everything we believe in about the world
completely upside down
That’s what God did in the Resurrection
turned everything we believe about the world
upside down
People die, bodies stop breathing
bodies bleed, and deteriorate in the grave
it is impossible for the dead to come back to life
and yet Jesus shows up
and says, “Surprise!”
and then he starts looking around for something to eat
I bet he had fun with that…
and I believe that God always has fun with us
when God shows us that the impossible truly is possible
and when God invites us to believe in the impossible
to see the beauty that is all around us
to take a second look
to look in the mirror and say, “wow, you’re awesome!”
To embrace our brothers and sisters
to touch, to feel, to feel the wetness of tears
the warmth of sweaty palms or ice-cold fingers
To celebrate our own flesh and bone
even if it sags in places, or we walk with a limp
or we have age spots or too many moles
God made these bodies
so that we can know the wonder, and endless blessings
of God’s goodness through our bodies
through all of God’s creation
and over and over again,
God says, “surprise!”
Things aren’t always what they seem
The dead come back to life
and live forever
the flowers that fade and die in autumn
burst through the ground once again in spring
the barren, ugly trees that seem lifeless
suddenly are full of blossoms and flowers
we who often feel like nothing special
find ourselves beloved and cherished by the living God
of the universes and galaxies
who loves us so much
that he put on this humble skin and bones
suffered many of the indignities of being human
even suffered the ultimate indignity of death
even came back with those ugly, dark, violent scars
to show us
that life and beauty have the last word
They recognized his hands, not just by the scars
but by the act of breaking bread and feeding his loved ones
by the act of lifting the cup and filling their thirst
“Do you have anything to eat?” he said
Because Jesus got hungry, too
and he, too, wanted to be fed by the ones he had fed
And we keep on feeding him,
feeding the movement he started
feeding the spirit of new life and resurrection
we do that, by doing what he did:
feeding the hungry, offering water to the thirsty
touching the one who desperately needs a gentle touch
offering blessing and honor and dignity
to those who otherwise don’t have it
we feed Jesus
we bless Jesus
we thank Jesus
by doing what he did
by seeing beauty where everyone else sees ugliness
by celebrating these awkward but beautiful bodies God gave us
to use as an instrument of celebration
and of grace …
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
DOUBT
John 20:19-31
Faith United
April 19, 2009
Have you ever been overwhelmed?
Isn’t that an awful feeling?
I think a lot of people are overwhelmed right now
by the economy, losing jobs, and the chaos
When I’m overwhelmed, I just want to go to bed
and pull the covers over my head
take a nap
Naps are good
Sometimes you just have to sit down on the floor
Maybe scoot up against the wall and just sit for a minute
catch your breath
When a lot of bad things happen at once
or everyone’s coming at you with something
with bad news or complaints or anger
or your boss is driving you crazy or work
you feel underappreciated or even used
It gets overwhelming
When people you love die, it’s overwhelming
Simple everyday tasks suddenly seem really difficult
we can get paralyzed
When we’re overwhelmed, we feel small, weak
and out of control
Which is the reason I’m especially nervous
these days with the rise of gun sales
I’m not feeling really safe
knowing that a lot of overwhelmed people,
a lot of angry people who feel like they have no control
are now armed
Call me crazy
There are some days I wouldn’t trust myself with a gun
much less someone who’s lost their job
where they’ve worked for 35 years
and is dismissed as if he is nothing
These days it is really easy to feel like things are out of control
When really, they are always out of control
at least, OUR control
but we don’t really realize that until
things are particularly bad
I think Jesus’ disciples were overwhelmed
that’s the only explanation I have for them sitting in their room
twiddling their thumbs,
hugging their teddy bears behind closed doors
They’d already heard from Mary
who told them that she’d seen Jesus… alive
but they didn’t believe her,
because women are so emotional
they don’t think rationally like men –
you know, like men who are huddled in the dark
with the doors locked afraid to even go to the bathroom…
They’d heard that Jesus had been spotted,
out there, walking around
and here they are locked away
All I can say is that they had to be overwhelmed
Death is overwhelming
it’s very powerful, it’s beyond our control
it’s cruel sometimes
and Jesus’ death was particularly cruel
I suspect it wasn’t just grief they were feeling
I bet they were feeling a lot of regret
Guilt
They weren’t there
They panicked
when things got heated, they ran
some of them denied every knowing him
only John had the guts to be there for the execution
along with the women disciples
We don’t know where the men disciples were hanging out that night
maybe this same room
they couldn’t be there with him
they ran
they lied about him
maybe they were scared that if it was true
that if Jesus was really out there,
he’d be pretty ticked off with them
alive or not, they’re not ready to face him, perhaps!
I can’t say I blame them
And c’mon, he’s alive? Yeah right
That in itself would be overwhelming
Death is death, death is final,
and from all the things they heard, Jesus was dead
Gone
taking all their hopes and dreams for the future with him
They have no idea what to do next
They’re sitting on the floor, in the corners
some with their heads down
completely exhausted by reality
overwhelmed by reality
And then… woops, there he is
Talk about overwhelming!
There he was
the door was still locked, they were still on the floor
and yet Jesus was standing there grinning at them
“Hey, how’s it going?” he might have said
Then he must have realized they were about to wet themselves
and he had compassion on them
“Peace be with you,” he said, still smiling
He showed them his wounds
to prove it was him
and they said, “wow.”
“Peace be with you,” Jesus said,
and then he …. well, he breathed on them
but when he did, it was like they were knocked over
pinned against the wall
and they felt a strange new assurance, confidence
Reality hadn’t changed
the world was still as it was,
except now Jesus was here, alive…
and he gave them the Spirit to rely on,
to fuel up, you might say
And then he said an impossible thing…
“Forgive…” he said
Forgive who? It doesn’t say –
but they all certainly had something to forgive
what’s more, is that they all knew without a doubt
that they had plenty to be forgiven for
How could they NOT forgive anyone else
if they expected Jesus to forgive them
for screwing up, running away, betraying him?
and Jesus left them, disappeared again
leaving them bewildered, still overwhelmed, but in a different way
The funny thing is, a week later,
after all this, they were still locked in the house
that I don’t get, but who am I to judge?
Thomas hadn’t been there that day
he was the brave one, I think
he wasn’t huddled in the dark with his buddies
he was outside walking around, maybe running errands
out in the open, where he could get hurt
but at least he was out there
getting on with life
he wasn’t paralyzed
he was out moving around
When he came back,
the disciples told them they’d seen Jesus
“yeah, right…” he said
“I’ve gotta see that for myself!” he said
and can you blame him?
These guys hadn’t bathed in weeks – they hadn’t left the room!--
all huddled up in this room,
in the dark, doors locked
doing nothing, really
and he’s going to believe them that Jesus is alive?
I don’t think so
Doubt is not something people value
if we were raised in the church
we were probably taught that doubt is not good
you should never doubt
just believe
I just saw the movie, “Doubt,”
and I won’t tell you too much about it
because I think you should see it
and I don’t want to ruin it
but essentially Meryl Streep plays a really nasty, uptight
emotionally constipated nun in the 60s
all the kids in the Catholic school
and all the other nuns for that matter
are terrified of her
with good reason
She’s just not a happy camper
but she is a woman of certainty
she sees it as her mission to save the school
from modernity
and progress
to keep it pure, free of corruption
free from any secular influences
she is a woman of profound certainties
but what the movie ends up showing
is how damaging such certainty can be
She will not relent in things that she believes to be true
Like a small-town rumor
or small-town gossip that gets out of hand
and people believe it just because they heard it
She will not be convinced of any other truth
than what she herself believes,
no matter how flimsy her evidence
and her certainty proves to be horribly damaging
to the people around her and to the school itself
The mind is a powerful thing
it can convince us of things that may not be true
I think it was very dangerous for the disciples
to be locked away, isolated from the rest of the world
Sometimes when we are overwhelmed,
we isolate
and that’s bad
I don’t know if you can relate
but I think that when we isolate ourselves from others
we can spin all kinds of nonsense in our heads
we can obsess about it, work on it relentlessly
and then believe it to be absolute truth
Or when we’re overwhelmed by reality
we can sit and listen to the media’s spin on things for hours at a time
The media banks on keeping us stirred up, ticked off
they fuel nasty fires in people
they lead us to believe things that aren’t true
because we are vulnerable when we’re overwhelmed
William Sloane Coffin writes,
“As I see it, the primary religious task these days
is to try to think straight….
You can’t think straight with a heart full of fear,
for fear seeks safety, not truth.
If your heart’s a stone, you can’t have decent thoughts
either about personal relations or about international ones
A heart full of love, on the other hand,
has a limbering effect on the mind…”
People are shooting each other
writing and saying nasty things against each other
placing blame, stirring up hatred and absurdities
because we’re afraid
The world is a mess, and of course we’re afraid
and when we’re afraid, we lash out
some people shoot other people
some people get on TV and air their rage
for all of us to listen to
but it is never good to act out of fear….
And yet Jesus comes back again and again
and finds us in our fears, doubts, and guilt,
like he did the disciples
and he says, “BREATHE.”
Breathe in my spirit
don’t breathe in all the nastiness and chaos around you
breathe the breath of God
I like Thomas
he was honest
He didn’t pretend to believe something that he didn’t
just to be accepted and liked
he was honest, “I don’t believe it.”
But at least he was willing to be convinced
Show me, he said, and maybe I’ll believe
He needed some more evidence
He wasn’t just going to believe something on the basis
of someone else
especially someone who’s been locked away alone
for weeks, isolated from the rest of the world
And Jesus comes again
“Hey, Thomas…”
And Thomas just about fell over backwards
“Touch me, Thomas, if you don’t believe it’s me, go ahead…”
Thomas was convinced
“My Lord and my God!”
“Have you believed because you have seen?” Jesus asks,
already knowing the question
“blessed are those who have not seen
and yet have come to believe…”
and that would be us…
we haven’t seen Jesus
at least the flesh and blood Jesus
Frederick Buechner talks about the value of believing
more than what our eyes can take in
He writes,
“Our eyes tell us that the small country church down the road
needs a new coat of pain
and that the stout lady who plays the organ looks
a little like W.C. Fields
and that the pews are rarely more than a quarter filled
on any given Sunday…. “
Our eyes see facts, but our hearts see the truth
For example, he says,
“the truth about the shabby little church
is that for reasons known only to God
it is full of holiness.”
I think doubt is a good thing, a healthy thing
Jesus doesn’t mind it
He’s not threatened by our doubts
he more than anybody can see
all the reasons we would have for doubting
and he doesn’t want us to be
first –grade Christians
he wants us to think, to discuss
to be open to what God might be doing in the world
to get past our ideas that God might be ready to destroy this world
and consider for a moment
that God is always doing a new thing
even in the midst of chaos
the world, we’re told, was created out of chaos
this time that we’re in
is not more chaotic than any other time in history
we’re not so special here in the 21st century
God’s been there, done that, seen it all
God’s not shocked by anything
But God keeps breathing because God is not dead
God keeps breathing new life into us, into our world
and says, GO! Get up off your butt!
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and unlock that door…
get outside, breathe some fresh air
open your minds and your hearts
and don’t think that because things are bad
I’m going to make it easy on you
and just destroy the world
it’s not that easy
God wants us to get out there and breathe grace
the grace we’ve already received
BREATHE
In and out
Receive and give
Believe in what you cannot see
believe despite what the media is shouting about --
doubt what THEY say !--
and consider what GOD is saying
It’s ok, sometimes to have to see for ourselves
I remember when my friend Ed was having heart surgery
it was pretty bad
he had a faulty heart valve
that needing replacing and it didn’t go smoothly
I was living in NE Pennsylvania at the time
and he was having surgery in Philadelphia
which was three hours away
and it’s awfully easy to get lost in Philly
Larry and I went to Philly, there and back in one day
to see Ed on the day of his surgery
I knew he wouldn’t be awake --
but waiting for a phone call to tell me he was ok
was simply not enough
I had to see for myself
He was hooked up to a ventilator
he was still unconscious when I saw him
but he was alive
he was breathing, even if he had help
It was worth the trip for me just to be able to see for myself
Sometimes the demand to see is not necessarily doubt
sometimes
it’s love.
Faith United
April 19, 2009
Have you ever been overwhelmed?
Isn’t that an awful feeling?
I think a lot of people are overwhelmed right now
by the economy, losing jobs, and the chaos
When I’m overwhelmed, I just want to go to bed
and pull the covers over my head
take a nap
Naps are good
Sometimes you just have to sit down on the floor
Maybe scoot up against the wall and just sit for a minute
catch your breath
When a lot of bad things happen at once
or everyone’s coming at you with something
with bad news or complaints or anger
or your boss is driving you crazy or work
you feel underappreciated or even used
It gets overwhelming
When people you love die, it’s overwhelming
Simple everyday tasks suddenly seem really difficult
we can get paralyzed
When we’re overwhelmed, we feel small, weak
and out of control
Which is the reason I’m especially nervous
these days with the rise of gun sales
I’m not feeling really safe
knowing that a lot of overwhelmed people,
a lot of angry people who feel like they have no control
are now armed
Call me crazy
There are some days I wouldn’t trust myself with a gun
much less someone who’s lost their job
where they’ve worked for 35 years
and is dismissed as if he is nothing
These days it is really easy to feel like things are out of control
When really, they are always out of control
at least, OUR control
but we don’t really realize that until
things are particularly bad
I think Jesus’ disciples were overwhelmed
that’s the only explanation I have for them sitting in their room
twiddling their thumbs,
hugging their teddy bears behind closed doors
They’d already heard from Mary
who told them that she’d seen Jesus… alive
but they didn’t believe her,
because women are so emotional
they don’t think rationally like men –
you know, like men who are huddled in the dark
with the doors locked afraid to even go to the bathroom…
They’d heard that Jesus had been spotted,
out there, walking around
and here they are locked away
All I can say is that they had to be overwhelmed
Death is overwhelming
it’s very powerful, it’s beyond our control
it’s cruel sometimes
and Jesus’ death was particularly cruel
I suspect it wasn’t just grief they were feeling
I bet they were feeling a lot of regret
Guilt
They weren’t there
They panicked
when things got heated, they ran
some of them denied every knowing him
only John had the guts to be there for the execution
along with the women disciples
We don’t know where the men disciples were hanging out that night
maybe this same room
they couldn’t be there with him
they ran
they lied about him
maybe they were scared that if it was true
that if Jesus was really out there,
he’d be pretty ticked off with them
alive or not, they’re not ready to face him, perhaps!
I can’t say I blame them
And c’mon, he’s alive? Yeah right
That in itself would be overwhelming
Death is death, death is final,
and from all the things they heard, Jesus was dead
Gone
taking all their hopes and dreams for the future with him
They have no idea what to do next
They’re sitting on the floor, in the corners
some with their heads down
completely exhausted by reality
overwhelmed by reality
And then… woops, there he is
Talk about overwhelming!
There he was
the door was still locked, they were still on the floor
and yet Jesus was standing there grinning at them
“Hey, how’s it going?” he might have said
Then he must have realized they were about to wet themselves
and he had compassion on them
“Peace be with you,” he said, still smiling
He showed them his wounds
to prove it was him
and they said, “wow.”
“Peace be with you,” Jesus said,
and then he …. well, he breathed on them
but when he did, it was like they were knocked over
pinned against the wall
and they felt a strange new assurance, confidence
Reality hadn’t changed
the world was still as it was,
except now Jesus was here, alive…
and he gave them the Spirit to rely on,
to fuel up, you might say
And then he said an impossible thing…
“Forgive…” he said
Forgive who? It doesn’t say –
but they all certainly had something to forgive
what’s more, is that they all knew without a doubt
that they had plenty to be forgiven for
How could they NOT forgive anyone else
if they expected Jesus to forgive them
for screwing up, running away, betraying him?
and Jesus left them, disappeared again
leaving them bewildered, still overwhelmed, but in a different way
The funny thing is, a week later,
after all this, they were still locked in the house
that I don’t get, but who am I to judge?
Thomas hadn’t been there that day
he was the brave one, I think
he wasn’t huddled in the dark with his buddies
he was outside walking around, maybe running errands
out in the open, where he could get hurt
but at least he was out there
getting on with life
he wasn’t paralyzed
he was out moving around
When he came back,
the disciples told them they’d seen Jesus
“yeah, right…” he said
“I’ve gotta see that for myself!” he said
and can you blame him?
These guys hadn’t bathed in weeks – they hadn’t left the room!--
all huddled up in this room,
in the dark, doors locked
doing nothing, really
and he’s going to believe them that Jesus is alive?
I don’t think so
Doubt is not something people value
if we were raised in the church
we were probably taught that doubt is not good
you should never doubt
just believe
I just saw the movie, “Doubt,”
and I won’t tell you too much about it
because I think you should see it
and I don’t want to ruin it
but essentially Meryl Streep plays a really nasty, uptight
emotionally constipated nun in the 60s
all the kids in the Catholic school
and all the other nuns for that matter
are terrified of her
with good reason
She’s just not a happy camper
but she is a woman of certainty
she sees it as her mission to save the school
from modernity
and progress
to keep it pure, free of corruption
free from any secular influences
she is a woman of profound certainties
but what the movie ends up showing
is how damaging such certainty can be
She will not relent in things that she believes to be true
Like a small-town rumor
or small-town gossip that gets out of hand
and people believe it just because they heard it
She will not be convinced of any other truth
than what she herself believes,
no matter how flimsy her evidence
and her certainty proves to be horribly damaging
to the people around her and to the school itself
The mind is a powerful thing
it can convince us of things that may not be true
I think it was very dangerous for the disciples
to be locked away, isolated from the rest of the world
Sometimes when we are overwhelmed,
we isolate
and that’s bad
I don’t know if you can relate
but I think that when we isolate ourselves from others
we can spin all kinds of nonsense in our heads
we can obsess about it, work on it relentlessly
and then believe it to be absolute truth
Or when we’re overwhelmed by reality
we can sit and listen to the media’s spin on things for hours at a time
The media banks on keeping us stirred up, ticked off
they fuel nasty fires in people
they lead us to believe things that aren’t true
because we are vulnerable when we’re overwhelmed
William Sloane Coffin writes,
“As I see it, the primary religious task these days
is to try to think straight….
You can’t think straight with a heart full of fear,
for fear seeks safety, not truth.
If your heart’s a stone, you can’t have decent thoughts
either about personal relations or about international ones
A heart full of love, on the other hand,
has a limbering effect on the mind…”
People are shooting each other
writing and saying nasty things against each other
placing blame, stirring up hatred and absurdities
because we’re afraid
The world is a mess, and of course we’re afraid
and when we’re afraid, we lash out
some people shoot other people
some people get on TV and air their rage
for all of us to listen to
but it is never good to act out of fear….
And yet Jesus comes back again and again
and finds us in our fears, doubts, and guilt,
like he did the disciples
and he says, “BREATHE.”
Breathe in my spirit
don’t breathe in all the nastiness and chaos around you
breathe the breath of God
I like Thomas
he was honest
He didn’t pretend to believe something that he didn’t
just to be accepted and liked
he was honest, “I don’t believe it.”
But at least he was willing to be convinced
Show me, he said, and maybe I’ll believe
He needed some more evidence
He wasn’t just going to believe something on the basis
of someone else
especially someone who’s been locked away alone
for weeks, isolated from the rest of the world
And Jesus comes again
“Hey, Thomas…”
And Thomas just about fell over backwards
“Touch me, Thomas, if you don’t believe it’s me, go ahead…”
Thomas was convinced
“My Lord and my God!”
“Have you believed because you have seen?” Jesus asks,
already knowing the question
“blessed are those who have not seen
and yet have come to believe…”
and that would be us…
we haven’t seen Jesus
at least the flesh and blood Jesus
Frederick Buechner talks about the value of believing
more than what our eyes can take in
He writes,
“Our eyes tell us that the small country church down the road
needs a new coat of pain
and that the stout lady who plays the organ looks
a little like W.C. Fields
and that the pews are rarely more than a quarter filled
on any given Sunday…. “
Our eyes see facts, but our hearts see the truth
For example, he says,
“the truth about the shabby little church
is that for reasons known only to God
it is full of holiness.”
I think doubt is a good thing, a healthy thing
Jesus doesn’t mind it
He’s not threatened by our doubts
he more than anybody can see
all the reasons we would have for doubting
and he doesn’t want us to be
first –grade Christians
he wants us to think, to discuss
to be open to what God might be doing in the world
to get past our ideas that God might be ready to destroy this world
and consider for a moment
that God is always doing a new thing
even in the midst of chaos
the world, we’re told, was created out of chaos
this time that we’re in
is not more chaotic than any other time in history
we’re not so special here in the 21st century
God’s been there, done that, seen it all
God’s not shocked by anything
But God keeps breathing because God is not dead
God keeps breathing new life into us, into our world
and says, GO! Get up off your butt!
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and unlock that door…
get outside, breathe some fresh air
open your minds and your hearts
and don’t think that because things are bad
I’m going to make it easy on you
and just destroy the world
it’s not that easy
God wants us to get out there and breathe grace
the grace we’ve already received
BREATHE
In and out
Receive and give
Believe in what you cannot see
believe despite what the media is shouting about --
doubt what THEY say !--
and consider what GOD is saying
It’s ok, sometimes to have to see for ourselves
I remember when my friend Ed was having heart surgery
it was pretty bad
he had a faulty heart valve
that needing replacing and it didn’t go smoothly
I was living in NE Pennsylvania at the time
and he was having surgery in Philadelphia
which was three hours away
and it’s awfully easy to get lost in Philly
Larry and I went to Philly, there and back in one day
to see Ed on the day of his surgery
I knew he wouldn’t be awake --
but waiting for a phone call to tell me he was ok
was simply not enough
I had to see for myself
He was hooked up to a ventilator
he was still unconscious when I saw him
but he was alive
he was breathing, even if he had help
It was worth the trip for me just to be able to see for myself
Sometimes the demand to see is not necessarily doubt
sometimes
it’s love.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday
I've always had a hard time with Good Friday. I've always felt it in my bones. This year I feel the weight of hatred and anger that always culminates in Good Friday. I never understood why it's called Good. It's a day of cruelty-- a bitter reminder of what human beings are capable of. To me it's a reminder of how blind we are to goodness and how we end up crushing it, torturing and killing, thinking that what we are doing is pleasing to God. That's what happened with Jesus. The Church authorities killed him because they thought killing was ok if they believed he was evil and contrary to God. And now their sin is a historic reminder of what hate can do. It can even kill God.
I am a registered Democrat. In rural Nebraska, I may as well wear a scarlet D on my chest. I don't hate Republicans. I just chose out of my conscience to be a Democrat. I don't think God is a Democrat or a Republican. I don't think God is even an American. God is above all our petty differences and labels and boundaries. During the election and now, post-inauguration, I have felt the heat of hatred stirring. I have to keep a low profile. I am a pastor, so people think that I'm supposed to not have strong convictions and opinions, or at least if I do, it should coincide with my parisioners. Pastors are non-people, really, we're not supposed to preach our conscience, our sense of what the Spirit is saying-- at least not if it disagrees with the common opinion.
I don't understand. When George W. was president, if you spoke against the president, it was unpatriotic. If you were a musician, speaking against the president could invite death threats, boycotting of your CDs and public demonstrations against your music. "If you don't like your country, get out," people said. Now, people speak freely against the president and it is in vogue. You can say the most hateful things, even use the "N" word. You can wish for his assasination, send him to hell, call his a fascist, socialist (does anyone know what that word means??), even the Anti-Christ-- and no one accuses you of being unpatriotic. I don't get it. So, it's only unpatriotic to speak against a Republican president? Our democracy only works when it works our way? People voted, Barack Obama won. That's how it works, we vote. The majority vote wins. I don't understand why the rules keep changing. Please tell me why it's ok to berate our President now, and it wasn't ok for the last eight years.
I don't think Barack Obama is the Messiah or even a superhero. I believe he's a good man with a lot of good convictions and a good vision. I don't agree with absolutely everything he believes or says-- shoot, I don't believe or agree with everything my HUSBAND says! People say we should keep religion out of it, until they want to use religion for their purposes. People say he shouldn't be travelling all over the world trying to reconcile America with our brothers and sisters, someone called that "socialist." People hate us all over the world. That's why they sent planes into New York and Washington. It seems to me that to care about the poor, the underprivileged, to want equal opportunities for life and well-being is a socialist agenda. I don't get that.
I had to be in Lincoln for a special Annual Conference the day of the Inauguration, but I watched it on TV. I wept. I felt proud to be an American. They say even in Washington, with people crammed in like sardines, people were courteous and nice to each other, offering each other their taxis, etc. People felt hope, because America made a bold choice for leadership.
I watched the movie "Bobby" a couple of weeks ago. It was about Bobby Kennedy. They used many of his speeches during the movie, and I was incredulous. I didn't know that someone was running for president in the 60s who said the things he did. I'm not surprised they killed him. People grabbed at him like he was a movie star or a rock star. Hispanics, African Americans, the poor-- the otherwise disregarded people grabbed at him, because he SAW them. He wanted to give them a chance. He wanted America to be a place where everyone could get a life. A lot of what he said sounded like the speeches I've heard from Obama this year. And they killed Bobby. And with him, a lot of those visions and dreams were killed. For at least 40 years. I cried hard at the end of the movie. It wasn't hormones, it wasn't stress, or any personal issues. I cried because we keep doing that. We kill visionaries. We kill people who want to make a difference. We accuse them of being equal to Satan, of being the Anti-Christ, of ushering in the End Times. We never learn. And the violence, the hatred escalates.
I hate Good Friday. It's a reminder to me that we're not changing much. They hated Jesus, that's why they killed him. They accused him of getting his powers from Satan. They hated him because he associated with the poor and the people we feel good about hating. They didn't know the word back then, but essentially they accused him of being liberal, as if that's a sin. He was broad-minded. His heart included everybody. Especially the ones that were shut out of the church in the name of God. He was dangerous. Jesus gave people too much freedom. He was radical. He wasn't proper, he dídn't color inside the lines. It was ok to hate him. It was ok to hate him enough to kill him in the most painful, cruel way. And people cheered. "Crucify him! Crucify him!" I can still hear those voices today. Only now we have the internet, 24-hour news channels and best-selling books in which to spew our hate and mob spirit.
I hate Good Friday. It's a horrible reminder that we still have it in us to kill Jesus and his Spirit, thinking that we're pleasing God. I can't do a whole lot to fight against the tidal wave of hostility and cruelty in our world, all done in the name of God. That's one reason that I won't be a pulpit for the rest of my life. People don't listen to anyone in a pulpit anymore. Fox News has much more credibility these days than a preacher.
I hate Good Friday. But Easter's coming. And that's why I still hope. Jesus is the only one who has the power to get beyond our hate and lust for death.
I am a registered Democrat. In rural Nebraska, I may as well wear a scarlet D on my chest. I don't hate Republicans. I just chose out of my conscience to be a Democrat. I don't think God is a Democrat or a Republican. I don't think God is even an American. God is above all our petty differences and labels and boundaries. During the election and now, post-inauguration, I have felt the heat of hatred stirring. I have to keep a low profile. I am a pastor, so people think that I'm supposed to not have strong convictions and opinions, or at least if I do, it should coincide with my parisioners. Pastors are non-people, really, we're not supposed to preach our conscience, our sense of what the Spirit is saying-- at least not if it disagrees with the common opinion.
I don't understand. When George W. was president, if you spoke against the president, it was unpatriotic. If you were a musician, speaking against the president could invite death threats, boycotting of your CDs and public demonstrations against your music. "If you don't like your country, get out," people said. Now, people speak freely against the president and it is in vogue. You can say the most hateful things, even use the "N" word. You can wish for his assasination, send him to hell, call his a fascist, socialist (does anyone know what that word means??), even the Anti-Christ-- and no one accuses you of being unpatriotic. I don't get it. So, it's only unpatriotic to speak against a Republican president? Our democracy only works when it works our way? People voted, Barack Obama won. That's how it works, we vote. The majority vote wins. I don't understand why the rules keep changing. Please tell me why it's ok to berate our President now, and it wasn't ok for the last eight years.
I don't think Barack Obama is the Messiah or even a superhero. I believe he's a good man with a lot of good convictions and a good vision. I don't agree with absolutely everything he believes or says-- shoot, I don't believe or agree with everything my HUSBAND says! People say we should keep religion out of it, until they want to use religion for their purposes. People say he shouldn't be travelling all over the world trying to reconcile America with our brothers and sisters, someone called that "socialist." People hate us all over the world. That's why they sent planes into New York and Washington. It seems to me that to care about the poor, the underprivileged, to want equal opportunities for life and well-being is a socialist agenda. I don't get that.
I had to be in Lincoln for a special Annual Conference the day of the Inauguration, but I watched it on TV. I wept. I felt proud to be an American. They say even in Washington, with people crammed in like sardines, people were courteous and nice to each other, offering each other their taxis, etc. People felt hope, because America made a bold choice for leadership.
I watched the movie "Bobby" a couple of weeks ago. It was about Bobby Kennedy. They used many of his speeches during the movie, and I was incredulous. I didn't know that someone was running for president in the 60s who said the things he did. I'm not surprised they killed him. People grabbed at him like he was a movie star or a rock star. Hispanics, African Americans, the poor-- the otherwise disregarded people grabbed at him, because he SAW them. He wanted to give them a chance. He wanted America to be a place where everyone could get a life. A lot of what he said sounded like the speeches I've heard from Obama this year. And they killed Bobby. And with him, a lot of those visions and dreams were killed. For at least 40 years. I cried hard at the end of the movie. It wasn't hormones, it wasn't stress, or any personal issues. I cried because we keep doing that. We kill visionaries. We kill people who want to make a difference. We accuse them of being equal to Satan, of being the Anti-Christ, of ushering in the End Times. We never learn. And the violence, the hatred escalates.
I hate Good Friday. It's a reminder to me that we're not changing much. They hated Jesus, that's why they killed him. They accused him of getting his powers from Satan. They hated him because he associated with the poor and the people we feel good about hating. They didn't know the word back then, but essentially they accused him of being liberal, as if that's a sin. He was broad-minded. His heart included everybody. Especially the ones that were shut out of the church in the name of God. He was dangerous. Jesus gave people too much freedom. He was radical. He wasn't proper, he dídn't color inside the lines. It was ok to hate him. It was ok to hate him enough to kill him in the most painful, cruel way. And people cheered. "Crucify him! Crucify him!" I can still hear those voices today. Only now we have the internet, 24-hour news channels and best-selling books in which to spew our hate and mob spirit.
I hate Good Friday. It's a horrible reminder that we still have it in us to kill Jesus and his Spirit, thinking that we're pleasing God. I can't do a whole lot to fight against the tidal wave of hostility and cruelty in our world, all done in the name of God. That's one reason that I won't be a pulpit for the rest of my life. People don't listen to anyone in a pulpit anymore. Fox News has much more credibility these days than a preacher.
I hate Good Friday. But Easter's coming. And that's why I still hope. Jesus is the only one who has the power to get beyond our hate and lust for death.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Keeping Body and Soul Together
Luke 22:7-23
Faith United
April 9, 2009
We’re all hungry
And I think more often than not, a lot of what we do
comes out of that hunger
Whether we’re mean to each other,
selfish, and insulting,
or overly generous and kind,
compassionate and loving
We’re all hungry
but too often we don’t even know it
because we numb ourselves on junk food
I think it’s safe to say that most of us
have never truly been physically hungry
We’ve always had enough to eat
there’s always been food available
We eat without thinking
we eat in front of the television
we eat while reading the newspaper
we eat while talking on the phone
we don’t even taste what we’re eating
because we’re usually doing something else
and eating becomes just a necessity
even an inconvenience
but in Jesus’ day and tradition
eating together was an act of fellowship
and it was significant WHO you were eating with
Basically, you are who you eat with
And Jesus ate a lot!
Especially in Luke’s version of the story…
Jesus seems to do a lot of his teaching
in the context of a meal ….
And that’s no accident
the meals that Jesus eats with different people
are part of his message
part of the unfolding story that Luke is telling
Jesus did some of the feeding,
but he also gave others the privilege of feeding HIM
because Jesus knew that feeding promotes relationship
Think about it
we do it without even thinking about what we’re doing
Somebody dies or suffers a tragedy
we make lasagna and take it to their door
Whenever I visit with someone about a funeral
inevitably their kitchen is full of food brought by others
Nobody seems to come to the door empty-handed
When I gave birth and moved to Tilden
for two weeks people who I’d never met before
provided supper for us every night
When there’s a funeral dinner
we are never short of people eager to bake a cake
or make a salad or come and make coffee
When someone’s house burns down
or they have insurmountable hospital bills
we have a dinner to raise money for them
So that not only do we raise money to help them
but in the process people are gathered together
for a common cause
for a common love for that person
They gather in honor of the one they want to feed
and they, in the process, feed each other
People laugh and say it’s because we just love to eat,
and that’s part of it, of course,
but it also shows that when someone is hungry
in any way, we want to feed them
and by feeding someone we show them we love them
In the Middle East,
giving and receiving bread is a symbol and sign of hospitality
it is no small gesture
it is a form of being connected in God
In the Orient, bread is considered sacred
when a traveler sees a scrap of bread on the ground,
he will pick it up and throw it to a dog
or put it in the crevice of a wall
or toss it to the birds
it must not be trodden underfoot
because it is seen as a sacred gift
coming from the Giver of all good…
I wonder how we’ve lost that sense of sacredness
that precious sense of bread as holy
as a symbol of our sustenance in God?
Is it because we just have much more food than we can ever eat?
Is it because we take for granted that we will eat
when we are hungry?
that the bread will be there?
My father has always been somewhat eccentric
He was truly embarrassing to be around
when I was a teenager
When there was a lull in the dinner conversation
he would spontaneously start quoting poetry
that he’d memorized as a kid
or he’d ask an impossible, philosophical question
usually of an unsuspecting dinner guest
which only served to stop the conversation further
He’d leave the house in the morning
and wearing his characteristic hat on his head
and his black trench coat,
he’d pause at the door, with his hand on the doorknob
and say out loud,
“I go to prove my soul….”
He was quite the dramatist
and so when he was hungry
he’d tell my mother,
“I need something to keep body and soul together….”
Back in Pennsylvania,
I participated with our youth group
in the 30 hour Famine,
which was sponsored by World Vision
The kids would fast for 30 hours
to raise money for the hungry
We spent the night at the church,
so we could be accountable to each other
We played games, watched movies,
had some lessons together
and tried to keep busy to keep our minds off being hungry
By the time we got to the 30th hour
needless to say, we were very, very hungry
probably hungrier than we’d ever allowed ourselves to get
and we broke the fast
with a service of communion
And of course, I gave the kids really, really big chunks of bread
while I said, “The Body of Christ, the bread of Heaven….”
and they’d never been so appreciative of communion before!!
After the service,
we all continued to pass the bread
until it was all gone
and bread never tasted so good!
I can’t help but think that we Christians 2,000 years after the fact
miss out on a lot of Jesus’ teachings
because we weren’t THERE
we just read the words
we try to fill in the blanks with our imagination
but the first disciples not only heard the words
they SAW the Word,
they tasted, smelled, felt and touched the Word
of course, they missed the point a lot too
but Jesus was like the ultimate Children’s sermon giver
Everything he did was tied to what he was doing
He didn’t just speak, he lived it out in front of them
He knew his people were hungry
he knew that some of them were much much hungrier than others
and he knew that some were greedy
some took for granted what they had
and some also took their status as Chosen Ones
way too literally
Jesus loved meals
and his meals always said a lot about who he was
and what he wanted to say with his life
He had many meals at the house of Mary, Martha and Lazarus
his best friends, you might say
he taught while he was there,
but he also enjoyed their company
he enjoyed the pleasure of allowing someone else to feed HIM
He went to their house for his own sustenance
He went there to keep body and soul together, I think
Jesus fed the five thousand and the four thousand
well, actually, no, he didn’t
he provided the food,
but he made his disciples do the feeding
“YOU give them something to eat,” he told them
when they were sure they had nothing to give
and he gave them the privilege of feeding the hungry
of serving, of giving
of looking upon someone in need as a brother, a sister
and of loving them as such
He tended to spend most of his meals
with questionable people
prostitutes, crooked politicians, addicts,
street people, the homeless, the incurably sick
the smelly, the poor, the rough characters
and the Church People hated that
What would people think? they said
because, indeed, you are who you eat with!
But Jesus knew that those people, more than anyone
were more aware of their hunger, their need
because they weren’t the privileged
They didn’t have everything handed to them
They were starving to be noticed, loved, valued….
And so most of the meals we read about
Jesus is eating with people we turn away from
and found fellowship with them
He ate with the Pharisees, too,
The Church People,
but I bet he enjoyed those meals much less
because those people usually invited him over
to make themselves look better
to show that they were indeed open-minded
they wanted to question him, test him,
make him prove his worth to them
and they always wanted to talk theology
and I bet even Jesus needed a break from Church Talk!
With his other friends,
he got to simply be himself, to laugh, tell jokes
relax and let his hair down
he was at the house of a Pharisee
when that woman burst in uninvited
and bathed his feet in expensive ointment,
washed his feet with her tears
and dried his feet with her own hair
It was a holy moment,
a beautiful, tender, sensitive moment
but the Church People missed it
they were too busy being horrified at the lack of dignity
in the woman’s behavior
and of course, they said, she had to be a whore
to behave that way
But whomever he was eating with,
Jesus always tried to show
that his mission from God
was to gather all people together
ALL people
All over the world
and his meals were a symbol of that
He tried to convey the vision of the Heavenly Banquet
of God’s Kingdom as that of a Great Feast
where all people will sit together in peace
Oh, how he longed to share this Passover meal with them,
he told his disciples at that last meal together
and I wonder, if he was also speaking of a deeper longing
a longing for that meal
where all people would gather
all people of the world
from every corner
every station in life
a vision that is still a long way off, of course
but a longing of his nonetheless
A longing that he wishes all his people had
a longing that he lived out
A deep hunger for peace
a deep hunger for love
a deep hunger for the fulfillment of God’s creation
“This is my Body,” he said,
as he broke the bread and gave it to his dearest friends
This is my Body
It was an embarrassingly intimate gesture
Take my Body, he was saying
make me a part of you
allow me to nourish you from the inside out
Eat my bread, do my will
feed my people
Sara Miles is a longtime writer and editor
that has written for the New York times,
traveled all over the world and been a journalist
in the midst of some of the ugliest wars
around the world
Sara was an atheist for the first 40-some years of her life
she was raised by a mother
who had been badly burned by the Church
harshly treated by Christians
and was finally fed up with the meanness
so she raised her daughter to be suspicious of all organized religion
Sara had had a full life
and seen many human atrocities across the world
and found herself in dangerous places
as an American in countries
where America had done some questionable things
but she had an innate sense of justice
and concern for the poor
she just didn’t know what was underneath it all
One day, when she was in her mid-forties,
she walked into an Episcopal Church in San Francisco
To this day, she doesn’t know why she wandered in
she had never read the Gospels
didn’t know the basics about Jesus
she’d never said the Lord’s Prayer
the last thing she wanted to do was become a Christian
But in previous walks
she’d passed the old Episcopal church
and admired the beautiful wooden building
with its soaring architecture
so out of curiosity, one morning she wandered inside
She didn’t even know what Episcopal meant
in the whole scheme of Churches
She just walked in, took a chair
and tried not to be noticed
She looked out the windows that opened out onto a hillside
covered with geraniums
and bathed in the morning sunlight that shone in
through the rotunda
Water trickled out back from a slab of rock in the hillside
There was singing
She stood up and sat down
when everyone else did
suddenly, she said, someone was putting a piece of fresh,
crumbly bread in her hands and saying,
“the body of Christ,”
and then handing her a goblet of sweet wine saying,
“the blood of Christ,”
and then, she said, something outrageous and terrifying happened
“JESUS happened to me,” she wrote
After that everything changed
She struggled in the following days to understand why
she felt so weird, so blown over, so uprooted
A friend later told her she’d wandered around
like “a deer in the headlights”
She began going to Church regularly, taking communion every Sunday
as Episcopalians do
taking the bread and bursting into tears
drinking the wine and crying some more
She didn’t understand what was happening to her
and it was a few years
before she was able to tell her mother
that she’d metamorphasized into a Christian
but as she regularly attended church,
ate the bread, drank the wine
sang and read and worshipped with people,
her life was changed
Eventually, she felt pulled and stretched and challenged
to truly live out what Jesus wants
and she ended up organizing a food pantry
that was based in the church, in the sanctuary
around the altar
Every Friday, people from all walks of life would come into the sanctuary
and receive groceries
fresh produce
that various stores and restaurants
would have thrown out because they always had too much
After awhile, over 300 people came every Friday
to receive food
more and more people participated
and the Pantry ended up receiving more donations
than they knew what to do with
so the money was used to start other food pantries
throughout the city
And as Sara often encountered the often disappointing dynamics
of church life
as she tried to do ministry and met with resistance
she found her bread in her work with the food pantry
people from the streets flooded the sanctuary
prostitutes, addicts, street people, transvestites,
you name it, all of them came
because all of them were hungry
and Sara experienced the presence of Christ in the giving of bread
It became a sacrament for her
the giving and sharing of bread
She told many stories of people off the street coming to her
after receiving their bag of groceries
and asking her to bless them, to pray for them
She found herself performing many priestly duties
“Communion,” she writes, “I chewed it and swallowed it.
it was at the absolute center of my faith;
wheat and water and yeast and heat;
grape and sun and time;
bread and wine, transformed into life.
I ate it up. I kept coming back for more….”
She discovered that every time she fed someone
she felt the presence of Christ
every time she offered a small morsel of food
to a dying friend who couldn’t eat much
she was giving the sacrament….
Jesus was everywhere, in the breaking of the bread
because THAT is what Jesus wants
Jesus, finally, wants us to feed each other with the bread of life
to not hoard it selfishly
or to deny it from anyone
but to give it away every chance we get
to always be acting, living toward Jesus’ vision
of everyone, absolutely EVERYONE
eating together at God’s Great Feast
It’s all about feeding and being fed
That early morning on the beach
the smell of fish cooking on the fire
the morning Jesus appeared, alive, resurrected, to his friends
that had given up hope and gone fishing
Jesus cooked them breakfast…
“Here, have something to eat…”
He didn’t teach them until he fed them
because he knows we can’t learn much
when we’re so desperately hungry
When we’re hungry, we tend to be blind and deaf to anything else
we tend to get mean and cranky
and so he fed them
And then he turned to Simon Peter,
and glanced toward the multitudes on the horizon
and said, “Feed my sheep, all of you, feed my sheep.”
Just as he had said, “this is my body, broken for you….
take, eat, be full
and then, go, give out of your fullness …
never try to give out of your emptiness
Feed my sheep
share my vision of the heavenly banquet
where lines and boundaries are finally blurred
and we are all one in the presence of Christ
We are all hungry
we all need to be fed
Let us never deny bread to anyone
because it is in the breaking of the bread
that we find our life
Take, eat,
and make room at the table
come for a little something to keep body and soul together
Faith United
April 9, 2009
We’re all hungry
And I think more often than not, a lot of what we do
comes out of that hunger
Whether we’re mean to each other,
selfish, and insulting,
or overly generous and kind,
compassionate and loving
We’re all hungry
but too often we don’t even know it
because we numb ourselves on junk food
I think it’s safe to say that most of us
have never truly been physically hungry
We’ve always had enough to eat
there’s always been food available
We eat without thinking
we eat in front of the television
we eat while reading the newspaper
we eat while talking on the phone
we don’t even taste what we’re eating
because we’re usually doing something else
and eating becomes just a necessity
even an inconvenience
but in Jesus’ day and tradition
eating together was an act of fellowship
and it was significant WHO you were eating with
Basically, you are who you eat with
And Jesus ate a lot!
Especially in Luke’s version of the story…
Jesus seems to do a lot of his teaching
in the context of a meal ….
And that’s no accident
the meals that Jesus eats with different people
are part of his message
part of the unfolding story that Luke is telling
Jesus did some of the feeding,
but he also gave others the privilege of feeding HIM
because Jesus knew that feeding promotes relationship
Think about it
we do it without even thinking about what we’re doing
Somebody dies or suffers a tragedy
we make lasagna and take it to their door
Whenever I visit with someone about a funeral
inevitably their kitchen is full of food brought by others
Nobody seems to come to the door empty-handed
When I gave birth and moved to Tilden
for two weeks people who I’d never met before
provided supper for us every night
When there’s a funeral dinner
we are never short of people eager to bake a cake
or make a salad or come and make coffee
When someone’s house burns down
or they have insurmountable hospital bills
we have a dinner to raise money for them
So that not only do we raise money to help them
but in the process people are gathered together
for a common cause
for a common love for that person
They gather in honor of the one they want to feed
and they, in the process, feed each other
People laugh and say it’s because we just love to eat,
and that’s part of it, of course,
but it also shows that when someone is hungry
in any way, we want to feed them
and by feeding someone we show them we love them
In the Middle East,
giving and receiving bread is a symbol and sign of hospitality
it is no small gesture
it is a form of being connected in God
In the Orient, bread is considered sacred
when a traveler sees a scrap of bread on the ground,
he will pick it up and throw it to a dog
or put it in the crevice of a wall
or toss it to the birds
it must not be trodden underfoot
because it is seen as a sacred gift
coming from the Giver of all good…
I wonder how we’ve lost that sense of sacredness
that precious sense of bread as holy
as a symbol of our sustenance in God?
Is it because we just have much more food than we can ever eat?
Is it because we take for granted that we will eat
when we are hungry?
that the bread will be there?
My father has always been somewhat eccentric
He was truly embarrassing to be around
when I was a teenager
When there was a lull in the dinner conversation
he would spontaneously start quoting poetry
that he’d memorized as a kid
or he’d ask an impossible, philosophical question
usually of an unsuspecting dinner guest
which only served to stop the conversation further
He’d leave the house in the morning
and wearing his characteristic hat on his head
and his black trench coat,
he’d pause at the door, with his hand on the doorknob
and say out loud,
“I go to prove my soul….”
He was quite the dramatist
and so when he was hungry
he’d tell my mother,
“I need something to keep body and soul together….”
Back in Pennsylvania,
I participated with our youth group
in the 30 hour Famine,
which was sponsored by World Vision
The kids would fast for 30 hours
to raise money for the hungry
We spent the night at the church,
so we could be accountable to each other
We played games, watched movies,
had some lessons together
and tried to keep busy to keep our minds off being hungry
By the time we got to the 30th hour
needless to say, we were very, very hungry
probably hungrier than we’d ever allowed ourselves to get
and we broke the fast
with a service of communion
And of course, I gave the kids really, really big chunks of bread
while I said, “The Body of Christ, the bread of Heaven….”
and they’d never been so appreciative of communion before!!
After the service,
we all continued to pass the bread
until it was all gone
and bread never tasted so good!
I can’t help but think that we Christians 2,000 years after the fact
miss out on a lot of Jesus’ teachings
because we weren’t THERE
we just read the words
we try to fill in the blanks with our imagination
but the first disciples not only heard the words
they SAW the Word,
they tasted, smelled, felt and touched the Word
of course, they missed the point a lot too
but Jesus was like the ultimate Children’s sermon giver
Everything he did was tied to what he was doing
He didn’t just speak, he lived it out in front of them
He knew his people were hungry
he knew that some of them were much much hungrier than others
and he knew that some were greedy
some took for granted what they had
and some also took their status as Chosen Ones
way too literally
Jesus loved meals
and his meals always said a lot about who he was
and what he wanted to say with his life
He had many meals at the house of Mary, Martha and Lazarus
his best friends, you might say
he taught while he was there,
but he also enjoyed their company
he enjoyed the pleasure of allowing someone else to feed HIM
He went to their house for his own sustenance
He went there to keep body and soul together, I think
Jesus fed the five thousand and the four thousand
well, actually, no, he didn’t
he provided the food,
but he made his disciples do the feeding
“YOU give them something to eat,” he told them
when they were sure they had nothing to give
and he gave them the privilege of feeding the hungry
of serving, of giving
of looking upon someone in need as a brother, a sister
and of loving them as such
He tended to spend most of his meals
with questionable people
prostitutes, crooked politicians, addicts,
street people, the homeless, the incurably sick
the smelly, the poor, the rough characters
and the Church People hated that
What would people think? they said
because, indeed, you are who you eat with!
But Jesus knew that those people, more than anyone
were more aware of their hunger, their need
because they weren’t the privileged
They didn’t have everything handed to them
They were starving to be noticed, loved, valued….
And so most of the meals we read about
Jesus is eating with people we turn away from
and found fellowship with them
He ate with the Pharisees, too,
The Church People,
but I bet he enjoyed those meals much less
because those people usually invited him over
to make themselves look better
to show that they were indeed open-minded
they wanted to question him, test him,
make him prove his worth to them
and they always wanted to talk theology
and I bet even Jesus needed a break from Church Talk!
With his other friends,
he got to simply be himself, to laugh, tell jokes
relax and let his hair down
he was at the house of a Pharisee
when that woman burst in uninvited
and bathed his feet in expensive ointment,
washed his feet with her tears
and dried his feet with her own hair
It was a holy moment,
a beautiful, tender, sensitive moment
but the Church People missed it
they were too busy being horrified at the lack of dignity
in the woman’s behavior
and of course, they said, she had to be a whore
to behave that way
But whomever he was eating with,
Jesus always tried to show
that his mission from God
was to gather all people together
ALL people
All over the world
and his meals were a symbol of that
He tried to convey the vision of the Heavenly Banquet
of God’s Kingdom as that of a Great Feast
where all people will sit together in peace
Oh, how he longed to share this Passover meal with them,
he told his disciples at that last meal together
and I wonder, if he was also speaking of a deeper longing
a longing for that meal
where all people would gather
all people of the world
from every corner
every station in life
a vision that is still a long way off, of course
but a longing of his nonetheless
A longing that he wishes all his people had
a longing that he lived out
A deep hunger for peace
a deep hunger for love
a deep hunger for the fulfillment of God’s creation
“This is my Body,” he said,
as he broke the bread and gave it to his dearest friends
This is my Body
It was an embarrassingly intimate gesture
Take my Body, he was saying
make me a part of you
allow me to nourish you from the inside out
Eat my bread, do my will
feed my people
Sara Miles is a longtime writer and editor
that has written for the New York times,
traveled all over the world and been a journalist
in the midst of some of the ugliest wars
around the world
Sara was an atheist for the first 40-some years of her life
she was raised by a mother
who had been badly burned by the Church
harshly treated by Christians
and was finally fed up with the meanness
so she raised her daughter to be suspicious of all organized religion
Sara had had a full life
and seen many human atrocities across the world
and found herself in dangerous places
as an American in countries
where America had done some questionable things
but she had an innate sense of justice
and concern for the poor
she just didn’t know what was underneath it all
One day, when she was in her mid-forties,
she walked into an Episcopal Church in San Francisco
To this day, she doesn’t know why she wandered in
she had never read the Gospels
didn’t know the basics about Jesus
she’d never said the Lord’s Prayer
the last thing she wanted to do was become a Christian
But in previous walks
she’d passed the old Episcopal church
and admired the beautiful wooden building
with its soaring architecture
so out of curiosity, one morning she wandered inside
She didn’t even know what Episcopal meant
in the whole scheme of Churches
She just walked in, took a chair
and tried not to be noticed
She looked out the windows that opened out onto a hillside
covered with geraniums
and bathed in the morning sunlight that shone in
through the rotunda
Water trickled out back from a slab of rock in the hillside
There was singing
She stood up and sat down
when everyone else did
suddenly, she said, someone was putting a piece of fresh,
crumbly bread in her hands and saying,
“the body of Christ,”
and then handing her a goblet of sweet wine saying,
“the blood of Christ,”
and then, she said, something outrageous and terrifying happened
“JESUS happened to me,” she wrote
After that everything changed
She struggled in the following days to understand why
she felt so weird, so blown over, so uprooted
A friend later told her she’d wandered around
like “a deer in the headlights”
She began going to Church regularly, taking communion every Sunday
as Episcopalians do
taking the bread and bursting into tears
drinking the wine and crying some more
She didn’t understand what was happening to her
and it was a few years
before she was able to tell her mother
that she’d metamorphasized into a Christian
but as she regularly attended church,
ate the bread, drank the wine
sang and read and worshipped with people,
her life was changed
Eventually, she felt pulled and stretched and challenged
to truly live out what Jesus wants
and she ended up organizing a food pantry
that was based in the church, in the sanctuary
around the altar
Every Friday, people from all walks of life would come into the sanctuary
and receive groceries
fresh produce
that various stores and restaurants
would have thrown out because they always had too much
After awhile, over 300 people came every Friday
to receive food
more and more people participated
and the Pantry ended up receiving more donations
than they knew what to do with
so the money was used to start other food pantries
throughout the city
And as Sara often encountered the often disappointing dynamics
of church life
as she tried to do ministry and met with resistance
she found her bread in her work with the food pantry
people from the streets flooded the sanctuary
prostitutes, addicts, street people, transvestites,
you name it, all of them came
because all of them were hungry
and Sara experienced the presence of Christ in the giving of bread
It became a sacrament for her
the giving and sharing of bread
She told many stories of people off the street coming to her
after receiving their bag of groceries
and asking her to bless them, to pray for them
She found herself performing many priestly duties
“Communion,” she writes, “I chewed it and swallowed it.
it was at the absolute center of my faith;
wheat and water and yeast and heat;
grape and sun and time;
bread and wine, transformed into life.
I ate it up. I kept coming back for more….”
She discovered that every time she fed someone
she felt the presence of Christ
every time she offered a small morsel of food
to a dying friend who couldn’t eat much
she was giving the sacrament….
Jesus was everywhere, in the breaking of the bread
because THAT is what Jesus wants
Jesus, finally, wants us to feed each other with the bread of life
to not hoard it selfishly
or to deny it from anyone
but to give it away every chance we get
to always be acting, living toward Jesus’ vision
of everyone, absolutely EVERYONE
eating together at God’s Great Feast
It’s all about feeding and being fed
That early morning on the beach
the smell of fish cooking on the fire
the morning Jesus appeared, alive, resurrected, to his friends
that had given up hope and gone fishing
Jesus cooked them breakfast…
“Here, have something to eat…”
He didn’t teach them until he fed them
because he knows we can’t learn much
when we’re so desperately hungry
When we’re hungry, we tend to be blind and deaf to anything else
we tend to get mean and cranky
and so he fed them
And then he turned to Simon Peter,
and glanced toward the multitudes on the horizon
and said, “Feed my sheep, all of you, feed my sheep.”
Just as he had said, “this is my body, broken for you….
take, eat, be full
and then, go, give out of your fullness …
never try to give out of your emptiness
Feed my sheep
share my vision of the heavenly banquet
where lines and boundaries are finally blurred
and we are all one in the presence of Christ
We are all hungry
we all need to be fed
Let us never deny bread to anyone
because it is in the breaking of the bread
that we find our life
Take, eat,
and make room at the table
come for a little something to keep body and soul together
Palms and Parades
“CALM BEFORE THE STORM”
Text: Mark 11:1-11
Faith United
April 5, 2009
I love parades
I’ve never been to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade
but Larry went before I ever met him
and it was an awesome, yet crowded experience
When I was in Middle School in Red Bank, New Jersey,
the high school, big as it was,
had a serious shortage of band members
and so let Middle Schoolers play in the high school band
I played clarinet at the time
and really didn’t enjoy it a whole lot
but I wanted to play in the band
Not so much for anything else but the experience of playing in parades
I just wanted to wear the nifty uniform
It was a pretty formal band uniform that was kind of a barn red
and lots of tassles and decorations
We had white shoes
that matched the tall, furry hat
with a brim that we got to wear
It was pretty cool
Red Bank had a population of about 12,000 people
which in New Jersey is considered a small town
And they had parades for pretty much every holiday
including Halloween
so it was pretty thrilling to walk down Highway 35
wearing that really cool uniform
and playing my clarinet
I felt like big stuff
And thousands of strangers lined the street
catching candy, waving banners,
waving flags, cheering various members of the parade
It was just fun, pure joy and celebration
It didn’t matter if you knew anybody,
it was pretty exciting
I think of that experience
when I watch the July 4th parade here
Here of course everybody knows everybody
that lines the streets
they shout out to their friends and grandchildren
who are on the floats in the parades
and everyone is connected
But the point of it is all the same
we all love a parade
we love joy and a chance to celebrate
Whether it’s to cheer our children or grandchildren
in Girl Scouts or on the basketball team
or the firefighters, EMTs, or military
or whether it’s just watching the kids
tackle each other for that piece of candy
We do love a parade
and it’s a time when we can come out of our houses
and feel connected to a whole community
there are stories all over the place
stories connected to that antique tractor that just passed by
or the guys in the funny hats riding motor scooters
in circles
And after the parade we disperse
maybe to get ice cream at the Baptist Church
go to a tractor pull
or attend a cookout with friends
and light a few fireworks in the front yard
The party continues after the parade
and goes on till after dark
Sometimes we march in the street to remember
some people hold candles to remember people who have died
to mark an anniversary of a tragedy
to protest some injustice that keeps going on
Sometimes we march to say we believe in something
and we want to make a statement
we don’t just want to sit on the sidelines
and be quiet anymore
Parades can be dangerous
I was just a toddler
when Martin Luther King Jr and friends marched
but I’ve heard the stories
I’ve seen the pictures
of hoses turned onto people
dogs sent to run people off
I’ve seen that parades that start off with joy and conviction
can turn ugly, maybe even deadly
What was he thinking? I wonder
when Jesus went into the temple that evening?
The story says that he went in and looked around
It was empty
It was getting dark, as it was late
It was getting very late
Did he think about the parade he just left?
Did he hear the cries of joy, see the hope in the faces?
Did he hear the music and see the dancing
in his mind?
Did he sway a bit in his solitude
singing the songs of God that he’d heard in the streets?
Did he picture his parents coming to this temple
only to be let into the outer gates
since they were poor?
Coming to have their child blessed and presented to God?
Blessed at the edges of the crowd
not at the center of the worship space
reserved for higher classes?
Did he try to picture the old prophet Simeon
and the prophetess Anna
that his mother told him about?
The ones who were so overjoyed that day to see him as a baby?
A sign of hope in their old age?
Did he remember the precocious little 12 year old he was
that came to this temple
and discussed theology with the priests?
Did he remember his own unchanged adolescent voice
speaking amidst the old rabbis, who were suspicious of his wisdom?
I wonder what he thought about that night
all alone in the silence
Did he feel peace in remembering?
Did he feel connected to all those who had worshipped in this place
over the centuries?
Did he feel the history, the weight of prayers lifted up here?
Or did he mourn the fact that many of his friends were still not welcome
within these walls
but were still left out in the outer courts
like his own parents had been over 30 years ago?
I wonder if he knelt
I wonder if he fingered his own prayer shawl
and softly sang the words of prayer he’d sung as a child?
I wonder if he looked up at the veil, the thick curtain
that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the room
the place that people believed housed the very presence of God
and was kept separated from God’s people?
I wonder if he prayed
for Jerusalem, for peace that even then seemed so far off….
I wonder if he asked God why…
I wonder if he wept
if he pouned a fist on a nearby table
Hosanna! They’d cried just moments before
Hosanna! He saw their faces
the poor, the ignored, the hungry, the lost
the prostitutes, the homeless, the men, the women,
the misfits, the invisible ones
Hosanna! they’d cried
Save us! the word meant… Save us!
It was late, he must have seen the shadows lengthen against the dark walls
he must have seen the curtain disappear in the unlit room
as the sun behind him descended into the horizon
It was already very late
he could feel it in his bones …
Earlier that day, there was a parade
There was a parade on each side of town
On one side, the Romans entered town
on their majestic military horses
their impressive uniforms,
swords hanging at their sides
so many of them,
a symbol of power
making a statement: don’t mess with us
You will regret it
The important, powerful people rode in on their horses
getting attention
making a statement
Showing who was in control of this gathering
And the people bowed down in submission
the people backed away to let them through
some of them trembled, afraid
knowing that one false move and someone would die
On the other side of town
there was another parade
rather pathetic, really, compared to the other one
A poor-looking man riding a donkey,
with a few ragtag people dancing alongside
Poor people, dirty people, people of questionable character
People who wouldn’t be let into respectable places
who wouldn’t be allowed in the temple
but who would be kept on the outer limits
because they didn’t have anything to give
But they were strangely joyful, hopeful
greeting this humble man
as if he were a king
yet he carried no weapons
he didn’t wave to the crowds
he didn’t say anything
he didn’t intimidate anyone
or warn anyone to behave
He just rode the donkey and watched the crowds
as the donkey, the small, pathetic donkey he rode
walked over the coats laid in the pathway
the tree branches waving like flags
It was a motley crew,
but they all knew that in his eyes they were somebody
And I wonder,
which parade would I have been in?
Would I have known?
Would I have risked my reputation to be in the parade
with the motley crew?
Or would I have preferred to be seen
on the other side,
let the powers that be see
that I was loyal
and would never dream of taking a stand
that could get me killed?
Which parade would you be in?
This week I came across an article from The Record
which is a newspaper in Canada
The article was about an event in memory of a man named Martin Tarback
a 41 year-old man who died of cancer last week
In the town of Kitchener,
there was a large gathering of senior police officers,
city councilors, street people
recovering crack addicts, Crown attorneys
and nurses
all walking through the downtown streets of the city
carrying long stem roses
Martin Tarback was a gentle giant of a man
with dreadlocks who had lived on the streets
At his memorial, he was remembered as the homeless man
who brought out the best of people
store owners who gave him clothes,
bank managers who helped him with his money
street cops, cabbies, bus drivers and street nurses
who all watched out for him
Before the procession downtown,
Tarback was memorialized in a moving ceremony
at the St. John Kitchen
that was packed with more than 200 people
They played his favorite music,
“Let it Be” by the Beatles, and “Imagine” by John Lennon
and people wept
Someone read a poem written by Tarback
that was published 17 years ago
It said,
“Maybe I’m just a fool in the rain,
hopeless enough to see what you say
Or maybe I’ll just fly through the sky, never a dreamer
or wonderin’ why…”
Tarback had helped plan his own memorial
a few months before his death
he wanted cheese squares and non-alcohlic beer served
Marty Schreter of the Multicultural Centre said,
“We are here, we area community,
we think about human dignity,
Martin lead us up that path…
He was a community leader, not a follower
The more I think about it,” Schreiter said,
“the more WE followed HIM…”
At the memorial, they showed a variety of pictures
up on the screen
pictures of Tarback growing up, smiling
and no trace of the demons that would put him on the streets later in life—
the demons of schizophrenia and alcohol
His sister said that Martin had wanted to be a musician,
an architect and to travel the world
But he was confined to the streets
Shop owners along King street, where Martin lived
said that he always stopped in to ask them how THEY were doing
A Crown attorney who spoke
said that the way Martin carried himself
made her see beyond the layers of tattered cloths and unkept hair
“He was a gentle, intelligent soul,” she said,
“who brought out the best in people.”
A nurse met Tarback at a hospital where he’d sought help
“He was my inspiration,” she said, “to become a street nurse,
“It was clear to me last February that something was really wrong,
he was really very sick.”
An administrator at the local hospital said at his memorial,
“You have inspired our entire community
to not give up on its poorest citizens…you have changed us.”
After the memorial service at the soup kitchen,
about 100 people walked down King Street
Along the way photographs of Tarback were taped
to walls and posts, along with roses
His family was blown away by how a whole city had looked out
for their troubled brother
and in the process, been changed themselves….
I have mixed feelings about Palm Sunday
because I know what happens later in the week
after all the palms are laid aside
and the people disperse
I know that people can be fickle
selfish and easily swayed by passion, even
and it hurts to know the rest of the story
from the vantage point of Palm Sunday
And I wonder what Jesus thought about that night
in the temple
Did he feel alone?
Did he know how fickle we really are
when we wave our banners and profess our love?
Did he wonder who would leave his parade
to join the parade on the other side of town?
We don’t know
But we’re here again
we wave our palms because we do love him
even though we don’t always understand him
even though his teachings demand too much of us
and we’re not sure we’re up to it all
But he changed the world
He came, knowing what would happen to him
but he came anyway
He came because God loves us
this motley crew of fickle and often selfish people
he came because God has hope for us
and our crazy world
Even when we join the other parade
that calls for violence, bloodshed
and destruction of our enemies
Enemies we don’t even know
whose eyes we’ll never look into
Jesus came because he knows we can do better than that
and he believes that someday we will
and so we keep telling the story
we keep envisioning the parade of misfits
There’s a part of me that keeps remembering that song
I used to love by Don McClean
It was written about the artist Van Gogh,
called, “Starry, Starry Night”
I was always haunted by that last line,
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
I think about that as we praise Jesus today
and wave our palms
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
Our world kills people like that
Our world calls for the destruction of people who call for peace
who stand up for the invisible ones, the misunderstood ones
the poor, the struggling, the mentally ill,
the broken
the sinners
Time after time after time
we see the peacemakers killed
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you….”
He knew that
and yet he came anyway
because God loves the world that much
and will never, ever give up on redeeming it
So God will keep coming, no matter how many times
we fight back,
God will keep coming, keep calling for peace,
keep raising up prophets to lead us
even when we keep killing them
and God will not stop coming
until we all feast at his heavenly banquet
the poor, the rich, the beautiful, the sinners,
the dirty, the clean, the misfits
We will all feast one day
together
in peace
Until then,
we will keep singing,
keep telling the story
keep marching, keep praying, and hoping
and we will keep entering the darkness of Good Friday
trusting that we will wake up to Easter,
to Resurrection and redemption
trusting in that day when Easter will never end
and death will be no more….
Text: Mark 11:1-11
Faith United
April 5, 2009
I love parades
I’ve never been to Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade
but Larry went before I ever met him
and it was an awesome, yet crowded experience
When I was in Middle School in Red Bank, New Jersey,
the high school, big as it was,
had a serious shortage of band members
and so let Middle Schoolers play in the high school band
I played clarinet at the time
and really didn’t enjoy it a whole lot
but I wanted to play in the band
Not so much for anything else but the experience of playing in parades
I just wanted to wear the nifty uniform
It was a pretty formal band uniform that was kind of a barn red
and lots of tassles and decorations
We had white shoes
that matched the tall, furry hat
with a brim that we got to wear
It was pretty cool
Red Bank had a population of about 12,000 people
which in New Jersey is considered a small town
And they had parades for pretty much every holiday
including Halloween
so it was pretty thrilling to walk down Highway 35
wearing that really cool uniform
and playing my clarinet
I felt like big stuff
And thousands of strangers lined the street
catching candy, waving banners,
waving flags, cheering various members of the parade
It was just fun, pure joy and celebration
It didn’t matter if you knew anybody,
it was pretty exciting
I think of that experience
when I watch the July 4th parade here
Here of course everybody knows everybody
that lines the streets
they shout out to their friends and grandchildren
who are on the floats in the parades
and everyone is connected
But the point of it is all the same
we all love a parade
we love joy and a chance to celebrate
Whether it’s to cheer our children or grandchildren
in Girl Scouts or on the basketball team
or the firefighters, EMTs, or military
or whether it’s just watching the kids
tackle each other for that piece of candy
We do love a parade
and it’s a time when we can come out of our houses
and feel connected to a whole community
there are stories all over the place
stories connected to that antique tractor that just passed by
or the guys in the funny hats riding motor scooters
in circles
And after the parade we disperse
maybe to get ice cream at the Baptist Church
go to a tractor pull
or attend a cookout with friends
and light a few fireworks in the front yard
The party continues after the parade
and goes on till after dark
Sometimes we march in the street to remember
some people hold candles to remember people who have died
to mark an anniversary of a tragedy
to protest some injustice that keeps going on
Sometimes we march to say we believe in something
and we want to make a statement
we don’t just want to sit on the sidelines
and be quiet anymore
Parades can be dangerous
I was just a toddler
when Martin Luther King Jr and friends marched
but I’ve heard the stories
I’ve seen the pictures
of hoses turned onto people
dogs sent to run people off
I’ve seen that parades that start off with joy and conviction
can turn ugly, maybe even deadly
What was he thinking? I wonder
when Jesus went into the temple that evening?
The story says that he went in and looked around
It was empty
It was getting dark, as it was late
It was getting very late
Did he think about the parade he just left?
Did he hear the cries of joy, see the hope in the faces?
Did he hear the music and see the dancing
in his mind?
Did he sway a bit in his solitude
singing the songs of God that he’d heard in the streets?
Did he picture his parents coming to this temple
only to be let into the outer gates
since they were poor?
Coming to have their child blessed and presented to God?
Blessed at the edges of the crowd
not at the center of the worship space
reserved for higher classes?
Did he try to picture the old prophet Simeon
and the prophetess Anna
that his mother told him about?
The ones who were so overjoyed that day to see him as a baby?
A sign of hope in their old age?
Did he remember the precocious little 12 year old he was
that came to this temple
and discussed theology with the priests?
Did he remember his own unchanged adolescent voice
speaking amidst the old rabbis, who were suspicious of his wisdom?
I wonder what he thought about that night
all alone in the silence
Did he feel peace in remembering?
Did he feel connected to all those who had worshipped in this place
over the centuries?
Did he feel the history, the weight of prayers lifted up here?
Or did he mourn the fact that many of his friends were still not welcome
within these walls
but were still left out in the outer courts
like his own parents had been over 30 years ago?
I wonder if he knelt
I wonder if he fingered his own prayer shawl
and softly sang the words of prayer he’d sung as a child?
I wonder if he looked up at the veil, the thick curtain
that separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the room
the place that people believed housed the very presence of God
and was kept separated from God’s people?
I wonder if he prayed
for Jerusalem, for peace that even then seemed so far off….
I wonder if he asked God why…
I wonder if he wept
if he pouned a fist on a nearby table
Hosanna! They’d cried just moments before
Hosanna! He saw their faces
the poor, the ignored, the hungry, the lost
the prostitutes, the homeless, the men, the women,
the misfits, the invisible ones
Hosanna! they’d cried
Save us! the word meant… Save us!
It was late, he must have seen the shadows lengthen against the dark walls
he must have seen the curtain disappear in the unlit room
as the sun behind him descended into the horizon
It was already very late
he could feel it in his bones …
Earlier that day, there was a parade
There was a parade on each side of town
On one side, the Romans entered town
on their majestic military horses
their impressive uniforms,
swords hanging at their sides
so many of them,
a symbol of power
making a statement: don’t mess with us
You will regret it
The important, powerful people rode in on their horses
getting attention
making a statement
Showing who was in control of this gathering
And the people bowed down in submission
the people backed away to let them through
some of them trembled, afraid
knowing that one false move and someone would die
On the other side of town
there was another parade
rather pathetic, really, compared to the other one
A poor-looking man riding a donkey,
with a few ragtag people dancing alongside
Poor people, dirty people, people of questionable character
People who wouldn’t be let into respectable places
who wouldn’t be allowed in the temple
but who would be kept on the outer limits
because they didn’t have anything to give
But they were strangely joyful, hopeful
greeting this humble man
as if he were a king
yet he carried no weapons
he didn’t wave to the crowds
he didn’t say anything
he didn’t intimidate anyone
or warn anyone to behave
He just rode the donkey and watched the crowds
as the donkey, the small, pathetic donkey he rode
walked over the coats laid in the pathway
the tree branches waving like flags
It was a motley crew,
but they all knew that in his eyes they were somebody
And I wonder,
which parade would I have been in?
Would I have known?
Would I have risked my reputation to be in the parade
with the motley crew?
Or would I have preferred to be seen
on the other side,
let the powers that be see
that I was loyal
and would never dream of taking a stand
that could get me killed?
Which parade would you be in?
This week I came across an article from The Record
which is a newspaper in Canada
The article was about an event in memory of a man named Martin Tarback
a 41 year-old man who died of cancer last week
In the town of Kitchener,
there was a large gathering of senior police officers,
city councilors, street people
recovering crack addicts, Crown attorneys
and nurses
all walking through the downtown streets of the city
carrying long stem roses
Martin Tarback was a gentle giant of a man
with dreadlocks who had lived on the streets
At his memorial, he was remembered as the homeless man
who brought out the best of people
store owners who gave him clothes,
bank managers who helped him with his money
street cops, cabbies, bus drivers and street nurses
who all watched out for him
Before the procession downtown,
Tarback was memorialized in a moving ceremony
at the St. John Kitchen
that was packed with more than 200 people
They played his favorite music,
“Let it Be” by the Beatles, and “Imagine” by John Lennon
and people wept
Someone read a poem written by Tarback
that was published 17 years ago
It said,
“Maybe I’m just a fool in the rain,
hopeless enough to see what you say
Or maybe I’ll just fly through the sky, never a dreamer
or wonderin’ why…”
Tarback had helped plan his own memorial
a few months before his death
he wanted cheese squares and non-alcohlic beer served
Marty Schreter of the Multicultural Centre said,
“We are here, we area community,
we think about human dignity,
Martin lead us up that path…
He was a community leader, not a follower
The more I think about it,” Schreiter said,
“the more WE followed HIM…”
At the memorial, they showed a variety of pictures
up on the screen
pictures of Tarback growing up, smiling
and no trace of the demons that would put him on the streets later in life—
the demons of schizophrenia and alcohol
His sister said that Martin had wanted to be a musician,
an architect and to travel the world
But he was confined to the streets
Shop owners along King street, where Martin lived
said that he always stopped in to ask them how THEY were doing
A Crown attorney who spoke
said that the way Martin carried himself
made her see beyond the layers of tattered cloths and unkept hair
“He was a gentle, intelligent soul,” she said,
“who brought out the best in people.”
A nurse met Tarback at a hospital where he’d sought help
“He was my inspiration,” she said, “to become a street nurse,
“It was clear to me last February that something was really wrong,
he was really very sick.”
An administrator at the local hospital said at his memorial,
“You have inspired our entire community
to not give up on its poorest citizens…you have changed us.”
After the memorial service at the soup kitchen,
about 100 people walked down King Street
Along the way photographs of Tarback were taped
to walls and posts, along with roses
His family was blown away by how a whole city had looked out
for their troubled brother
and in the process, been changed themselves….
I have mixed feelings about Palm Sunday
because I know what happens later in the week
after all the palms are laid aside
and the people disperse
I know that people can be fickle
selfish and easily swayed by passion, even
and it hurts to know the rest of the story
from the vantage point of Palm Sunday
And I wonder what Jesus thought about that night
in the temple
Did he feel alone?
Did he know how fickle we really are
when we wave our banners and profess our love?
Did he wonder who would leave his parade
to join the parade on the other side of town?
We don’t know
But we’re here again
we wave our palms because we do love him
even though we don’t always understand him
even though his teachings demand too much of us
and we’re not sure we’re up to it all
But he changed the world
He came, knowing what would happen to him
but he came anyway
He came because God loves us
this motley crew of fickle and often selfish people
he came because God has hope for us
and our crazy world
Even when we join the other parade
that calls for violence, bloodshed
and destruction of our enemies
Enemies we don’t even know
whose eyes we’ll never look into
Jesus came because he knows we can do better than that
and he believes that someday we will
and so we keep telling the story
we keep envisioning the parade of misfits
There’s a part of me that keeps remembering that song
I used to love by Don McClean
It was written about the artist Van Gogh,
called, “Starry, Starry Night”
I was always haunted by that last line,
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
I think about that as we praise Jesus today
and wave our palms
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”
Our world kills people like that
Our world calls for the destruction of people who call for peace
who stand up for the invisible ones, the misunderstood ones
the poor, the struggling, the mentally ill,
the broken
the sinners
Time after time after time
we see the peacemakers killed
“This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you….”
He knew that
and yet he came anyway
because God loves the world that much
and will never, ever give up on redeeming it
So God will keep coming, no matter how many times
we fight back,
God will keep coming, keep calling for peace,
keep raising up prophets to lead us
even when we keep killing them
and God will not stop coming
until we all feast at his heavenly banquet
the poor, the rich, the beautiful, the sinners,
the dirty, the clean, the misfits
We will all feast one day
together
in peace
Until then,
we will keep singing,
keep telling the story
keep marching, keep praying, and hoping
and we will keep entering the darkness of Good Friday
trusting that we will wake up to Easter,
to Resurrection and redemption
trusting in that day when Easter will never end
and death will be no more….
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