Ugly Side

Texts: Job 1:1, 2:1-10; Mark 10:13-16

If you flip through the pictures from our trip to Ethiopia, you may notice a pattern – tree, tukel, church, Amy with some kids, tree, monkey, church, Amy and kids. It’s probably no secret – I love kids – and whenever we came across them in our travels, I just had to engage them - usually with bubbles. We had the foresight to bring little containers of bubbles, like the kind you would get for a wedding, and just about any time there were kids around, those bubbles came out. At the Bedele congregation, walking down the street, heck, even if our land cruiser was stopped only for a few moments to so we could buy some bananas from the side of the road, I was breaking out those bubbles. It was an easy way to communicate when your shared vocabulary didn’t go past “you, you, you” and “feringi” and the wonder that filled those kids’ eyes, one of those things that gets you right here.

One of the things that got me right here in a different way, that shocked and disturbed me, was that there were some children I wasn’t so eager to engage. Some children I actually unthinkingly took small steps away from. The first time I caught myself doing this was at the Gore hostel for children – a wonderful place our church has supported that gives a home and vocational training to children without living family or family that can support them. As we were walking up the steps to the girls dormitory, we meet several of the young girls who lived there. One of them was a beautiful little girl, about seven or eight, with dark, deep eyes, and, oh, and an infected growth about the size of half a tennis ball on one side of her face. Here’s where I took that step back. Such a beautiful child marred with such an unfortunate and treatable disfigurement. I was startled, and yes, even sickened by that sight. And I was shamed. I doubt I was the only one who had such a reaction. As we talked with the children I couldn’t help but notice how self-conscious this child was about her face, trying to keep the side with the growth, the ugly side, out of view. It broke my heart that she had been made to feel ashamed by the imperfection on her cheek – and that I was one of those who helped enforce such feelings.

The second time I caught myself taking a step back was when we meet a group of young boys who were playing in the streets near one a prison. We had stopped at the prison to purchase some basket weaving from the prisoners – part of how they support themselves – and three young boys with gorgeous big smiles and genuine curiosity about these foreigners who rolled up in a nice Land Cruiser came running our way. As I went to do my usual thing – shake hands, act silly, bring out some bubbles – I realized these children didn’t have any hair. Instead, on their heads, was a fungus of some kind. I shuddered. And then I felt shame once again.

And then… The Spirit has a clever and crafty way of sneaking up on you and giving you just what you need in the moment. And in that moment, our Mark text popped into my head as clear as anything else and some how I knew this story was speaking to this moment. That the children Jesus welcomed with open arms were the children standing before me. That when Jesus said “let the little children come to me, do not stop them” he just wasn’t refuting an age-based prejudice. For the longest time I thought the Mark text was about just that, it was an ageist thing. The disciples thought children weren’t worthy or worthy Jesus’ time because of their age. The young didn’t matter.
I still think an ageist reading of the text is valid but in that moment in Ethiopia I realized that there was more to this story, a something more that I never could appreciate being amid the wonderful – clean – children in our nice, pristine church. The children Jesus welcomed were just as susceptible to diseases and deformities as the children I meet in Ethiopia. In our 21st century world, 1.5 million children each year die from diseases relating just to lack of safe water and proper sanitation.[1] I can only imagine the number and percentage of the 1st century world. Both groups of children were/are exposed to diseases we in our developed world don’t run across on a regular basis and the good medical care we do have access to – not an option in either setting.
When Jesus opened his arms to the children the disciples would have shooed away, he was opening his arms to children with fungus for hair, growths on their faces, deformities that made them outcasts, diseases and health conditions that caused suffering and for many would prove fatal.

These children were being brought to Jesus not so they could learn about from a wise teacher – a special temple field trip – rather they were being brought to him that he might TOUCH them. The children I took steps back from are the children being brought to Jesus for his powerful touch for when Jesus touches someone, they are healed, body, mind, soul.

It may seem odd, then, that the disciples are trying to keep children who could use that healing touch away from Christ. They’ve known healing is what he does. He’s cured a blind man, a deaf man, a paraplegic, and all kinds of sick in villages, cities, farms – everywhere. Jesus heals – it’s a huge part of his ministry and who he is. Jesus also welcomes children which the disciples should know. They witnessed, after all, so long before this moment Jesus setting a child in front of them and saying “whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

Perhaps the disciples are worried about Jesus’ energy. While he’s God, he’s also human and that humanness needs a break every now and again. Perhaps they were concerned about the diseases those kids might be carrying. Sure Jesus can heal, but kids, everyone knows kids are the worst carriers of disease – ask any school teacher about cold and flu season.

Or perhaps there’s something more going on with the disciples. Maybe I just want to put myself in good company, but I feel a kinship of sorts with the disciples in this story – wonder if perhaps they too were recoiling at the sight of children – those who are often viewed as the personification of goodness and innocence – marred by physical imperfections.

The visual evidence of disease is hard to stomach for many people, not just myself or the disciples. Look at Job’s wife. As her husband Job lost everything – his property, his children – which of course meant she lost everything too – she stood by, kept silent or at the very least said nothing of note. She stood by and watched as her once strong, proud husband went from the top of the world to a pile of ashes. It was only once her husband was stricken by sores which went from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head that she speaks up. Much has been made of her statement and Job’s response but. What I find particularly interesting today is her timing. When she and her husband lost their possessions, nothing. When they lost their children – their flesh and blood – nothing. It wasn’t until her husband was covered in physical evidence of misfortune, physical imperfections, that she said “why do you persist in your integrity? curse God and die.” Perhaps she was of the “if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything” mentality. Or perhaps the sores which Job scraped with a piece of broken pottery served as the final proof – there was something wrong with Job.

Much of the ancient Israelite world operated under the assumption that if misfortune befell you, you must have done something to deserve it. Job’s children died: perhaps he or they did something to offend God. Job lost his property: maybe he’s not as righteous as they say. Job is covered with incriminating sores – well, it’s hard to deny his guilt now. It’s written all over him. For only could a sinner be inflicted with such horrible condition. Job’s wife looks upon the evidence of her husband’s unrighteousness and tells him to die. Nothing about this man who tries to cling to his integrity when the evidence of some secret immorality is so visible is worth holding onto. Just die already, Job. What’s the point of holding on?

This understanding of illness present in Job’s time is also present in Jesus’ time. In the Gospel according to John, the disciples – this group which would have kept the little children away from Jesus – see a blind man ask their teacher “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”[2] They assumed that since this man bore what they saw as a physical imperfection, he or his parents sinned. Somewhere someone sinned and this man’s blindness is evidence of that. Illness, deformity, blindness – all of these were understood by many – including, it would seem, the disciples – as physical marks of moral imperfection.

If the little children people were bringing to Jesus looked at all like some of the children I meet in Ethiopia, then the disciples saw young children who bore what some understood as marks of sin. No wonder they spoke sternly. There’s that old “saying” that what bothers you most about someone else is what you don’t like about yourself reflected in them. The disciples looked upon these children and whether they were consciously aware of it or not, were perhaps reacting to something inside themselves. Saw the marks of illness on children and thought of their own ugly side. The people were bringing to Jesus – bringing before the disciples – the embodiment of their own – our own – fallen state. Somehow children with such imperfections embody our ruined innocence better than anyone else. Because a child with a big grin, welcoming spirit, loving eyes, is the perfect illustration of innocence, of the grace and goodness God created us in. And the marks of disease which mar their little bodies are the reminders of our imperfect, our fallen, our sin-filled state.

Though they had seen Jesus welcome those whom others considered outcast, sinners, worthless, the disciples still struggled to believe. Jesus, why would you want to touch these who bear the marks of sin? Why would you hold them, bless them?
As he has before and he would again, Jesus explained that he came not for the righteous but for the sinners, for those who bore marks, external and internal. Jesus explained that it is to these little children – these imperfect children of God – to whom the kingdom of God belongs. Jesus looks upon these children, sees the growths on their faces, sees the imperfections which make others cringe, sees their “ugly side,” and says “let them come to me.” He opens his arms to those others would shun, he touches them, blesses them. He loves them imperfections and all.

Even in his presence, the disciples couldn’t fully appreciate who Jesus was, who Jesus loved. Even with our years of tradition, even with songs like Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves the Little Children – all the children of the world, we don’t fully believe that Jesus sees us as the sin-filled creatures we are, and touches us, heals us. When I saw those children in Ethiopia, I—like the disciples—backed away because I looked at them and saw sin. Not their sin or their parents sin, but my sin. I saw the sin of children in one part of the world being exposed to conditions and diseases no child should ever have to know while in my own part of the world most children do not. I saw the horribly unfair imbalance where the world I am a part of has so much more. I saw the injustice that as a citizen of the developed world I have a hand in. I saw that injustice, saw my sin, and I couldn’t face it and so I stepped away.

We don’t always fully believe that we don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of Jesus’ embrace. We listen to the voices of those like Job’s wife who would have us believe that we are hopeless in our fallen state. We listen to those voices instead of the one that says only those who come as little children, those who come as God’s good creation with imperfections, ugly sides, those who come with marks that make others cringe, only these will enter the kingdom of God. We don’t always listen to the voice which says “let them come to me,” “let yourself come to me,” to the voice which dares us to see ourselves as touched, healed, loved.

Children of God, you are loved, you are touched, you are healed. You come into this world as good and by God’s grace – no matter what you may find yourself covered with – you are still called beautiful children of God. Our own grace-filled state, this is a truth that many of us struggle with – I know I do. We have heard the voices of those who would deem as unworthy of love – even Jesus’ love – too long, too loud.

I’d like to invite you to listen to other voices. The voice of Jesus in this passage, the voice of your brothers and sisters – children of God all of you. I invite you to stand, as you are able, and join with me in the first 4 questions of the Belonging to God Catechism, a catechism for children that we can all appreciate and need to hear.

Who are you?
I am a child of God.

What does it mean to be a child of God?
That I belong to God, who loves me.

What makes you a child of God?
Grace – God’s free gift of love that I do not deserve and cannot earn.

Don’t you have to be good for God to love you?
No. God loves me in spite of all I do wrong.


[1] UNICEF Press Release, Sept 28, 2006
[2] John 9:2

do not go, my love

It's funny what gets into your head and refuses to leave.

Several years ago my sister Beth gave her high school senior recital and sang an early 20th century piece called "do not go, my love." It is a haunting vocal/piano piece that is based on this poem by Sir Rabindranath Tagore :

The Gardener XXXIV: Do Not Go, My Love

Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.
I have watched all night, and now my eyes are heavy with sleep.
I fear lest I lose you when I'm sleeping.
Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.
I start up and stretch my hands to touch you.
I ask myself, "Is it a dream?"
Could I but entangle your feet with my heart and hold them fast to my breast!
Do not go, my love, without asking my leave.

I've been searching for this song recorded but can't seem to find any recording I like. There are some nice ones with men singing it, but since I first heard it with a woman, that's what I'm partial to. There are some women singing but their voices are a little old school warbly.

I mention this current obsession of mine because it just reminds me how much a first impression really does matter! If it's a good experience, the first time you do or experience something often becomes your baseline. For example, even though I can say "forgive us our sins" and "debts," my own personal Lord's Prayer - when it's coming soley from me and not worship leader Amy - is "trespasses" because that's what I grew up with and enjoyed. Even though I haven't been Catholic for more than half my life.

Oh, so if anyone knows of a nice version of said song, let me know!

well, isn't that special

I'm currently sitting at my favorite local coffee shop working on my sermon for next Sunday (note: not the one like 3 days away... I'm actually working in advance!). The text is Mark 10:13-16, the "let the little children come to me" passage. While you never can be sure until after you've preached the thing, I'm pretty sure the sermon is going to move away from the traditional intepretation of this passage - kids weren't worthy folk, too young to really matter, and so Jesus is proving that age is one of the many boundaries he will cross.

Good intepretation, but not where I'm going. Funny thing is, I opened up my sermon I preached the second Sunday last year, so exactly a year ago from this sermon, and I actually reference the Mark passage AND support the traditional interpretation.

Isn't it funny how the Spirit works?

A First, A First!

On the 17th of September, I was honored to participate in the baptism of two adorable baby girls. The one I'm holding is the one I actually baptized (John baptizing the other). She was my very first baptism. With almost a year into my ordained ministry, I felt... not "not a minister" but not quite complete. I had only presided over one half of our sacraments, after all!

I had been looking forward to this moment for some time. Baptisms are a huge deal to me - I remember very clearly my biological siblings (they were both baptized by our great-uncle and great-grandfather at our family reunion on a Minnesotan lake - yep those ministers got in the water and performed the sacrament!). Because both were done in the midst of all my extended family, I have always had a strong awareness that baptism is in large part about family. As I grew older, I came to appreciate that the family was much bigger than even my own large fam. The family we're baptized into is the Christian family, a family which trancends boundaries like race, age, political beliefs, gender, sexuality, class, geography, and even time.

So to be able to welcome a person into this family by offering them the waters of baptism... I'll admit it, I got a little choked up right before the service started. But once it did, and once this adorable girl was in my arms and I was saying the words which had come from our Savior himself, repeating them to her, welcoming her into this family, no threat of tears. Not because it wasn't moving - it was - but because it went beyond, the "aw' factor... it was the "awe" factor. I was in awe of the moment, awe that I could feel the Spirit working through me, awe that God had called me to do this.

I'm sure the baptisms which I will continue to preside over will move me, but I know this one will always be AWE-mazingly special.

Learn Your Lessons Well

Texts: Proverbs 1:20-33; James 3:1-12


The figure of Wisdom—personified as an elusive and demanding female in Hebrew tradition—has captured the attention and imagination of many a young Jewish boy. And that’s what she was intended to do: get those young boys who would rather be playing with their friends to be so intrigued by this woman called Wisdom that they would pay attention to the wisdom traditions she represented, would learn well the lessons their elders wanted to teach them. I’m sure the many teachers in our congregation – who I’m sure should all be teachers – can testify to the need and challenge of making the duller subjects more exciting. Wisdom is the ancient Israelite attempt at just that – she’s here to liven up a tradition of wise sayings and ethical teachings which otherwise might bore. She is here to make your head turn, eyes pop, and ears burn. And boy, does she.

At the entrance of the city gates—a place synonymous with judgment in Hebrew tradition—Wisdom leaves no doubt in her listeners: she is important. Pay attention to her, learn the lessons she has to teach, because if you do not, disaster awaits you. What’s more: Wisdom will pour out her thoughts to you, surrounding you with them like a peaceful river. But if you don’t dive in, she won’t be there to support you when the storm strikes. She will extend her hand but if you don’t take it – you’re on your own. As long as you treat her well, she’ll be there for you. Ignore her and it’s over.

We Christians have been taught—rightfully so—that no matter how much we mess up, no matter how low we fall, no matter how far we stray, that God will seek us out. Jesus himself tells parable after parable that confirm this image of God. The biblical image of Wisdom laughing at us, mocking us – is hard to swallow. For Wisdom of Proverbs fame isn’t representing popular sayings or ethics – she is not the World’s Wisdom, one we could perhaps ignore; she is God’s Wisdom. God who is steadfast, God who is constant, God who has unconditional love, created Wisdom whose affection appears very conditional.

Later in Proverbs Wisdom tells of her origins, saying she was God’s first creation and as such, she was there at the beginning and participated in the formation of the foundations of the earth—was God’s help-mate and daily delight. Wisdom—God’s Wisdom—is such a pervasive and prominent figure that it is understandable that many people see Jesus as not only the Word Incarnate but Wisdom Incarnate – the fulfillment of all ethical teachings that came before him. No wonder that the early Christian community put their own spin on the tradition she represents.

The selection of James, with its exhortation on the tongue and sinful speech, echoes the ethics of a community with such proverbs as “rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (I’d like to see that in a fortune cookie.) Rather than taking a broad approach to issues of justice, faith, or morality, James is getting very particular and very earthy. Spiritual issues of old and new covenants, the resurrection and the afterlife, take the back burner while we hear about how our tongue is the only beast which cannot be tamed. In this text we are not called to think about the greatness of God, rather the power of a small part of our own body.

And our tongue – with the words we choose to say and—I would add—those we choose not to – is quite powerful. Words can crush, they can delight, they can shock or comfort. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but those words have pretty high price tag themselves. That John or I stand up here every week and use words to convey God’s message for us today is just one example of how highly we hold words. We hear sound-bit after sound-bit in political elections because words shape opinions. We have cases taken to the higher courts because words like “one nation under God” can both alienate and inspire. We live in a highly verbal society where words truly matter.

Not only are words powerful, but the tongue on which they rest truly is an untamable beast. I know I am not the only one who can recall moments where the tongue spoke words that surprised the speaker. Where something came out and – oh, if you could spin back time and keep those words from slipping out, you’d give just about anything. Where that good ole lower appendage called the foot finds a home in your mouth. Even for the most careful of speakers, the tongue can escape control. Truly all of us do make mistakes – some more perhaps than others – but none are perfect in speech.

This our reality and this is the reality James is writing about with such conviction. This wisdom teaching – much like Wisdom herself – does not mince, well, words. World of iniquity, restless evil, deadly poison. (Come on James, have an opinion already.) These powerful phrases may seem just as harsh as Wisdom’s speech. Both do not baby the listeners and both take a stand and let you know what it is. But both are so assertive in what they have to say for a reason.

Wisdom and wisdom teachings like the one we find in James must come on strong because they guide our relationships here, guide our life together. Though Wisdom is from God, wisdom teachings are not about God directly. They are about how to live and exist in God’s world, among God’s people. And while God may be endlessly forgiving, while God may seek you out no matter how many times you turn away, God’s people are not always so understanding. We MUST listen to Wisdom when she speaks, take her hand when she reaches out, because if we do not and we find ourselves in the panic she warns against, turning then to her teachings will not help us in that moment. We may avoid future storms, but we will still have to weather the one we are in.

When our tongue goes wild and speaks words that cut someone down, even if we then turn to this teaching of James, remember how wicked the tongue can be, we can never take back what we have said. That calamity will still be upon us. Even though God may forgive us, the one or ones we have hurt are not always so grace-filled.

Wisdom and wisdom’s teachings must be so strongly phrased because we need to learn our lessons well – hopefully not the hard way. And when I say “we” I don’t mean the human family necessarily (though that would be nice) – I mean the Christian family. God has this funny tendency of gifting people with purpose. Abraham and Sarah’s family was made God’s chosen people – but not so their lives would be easy, far from it. They were gifted with as many descendants as the stars and a special relationship with God in order that they would be a light to the nations.

As the body of Christ, we have been given gifts – gifts like faith, laughter, vision, kindness, love – in order that we might continue Christ’s work here on earth. Wisdom is such a purposeful gift as these. God has given us many lessons to learn, passed down teaching after teaching, not just for our betterment, so that our relationships with our friends and our family run smoother. No, Wisdom is meant for greater things. We have been given Wisdom and wisdom teachings in order that we might live well with one another, show Christ’s love not just through our pious thought, but through our daily lives, through ALL of who we are.

James said that those who teach will be judged with greater strictness. The same is true for those who proclaim their faith. As Christians, we are Christ’s representatives here on earth and people know that. People both inside and outside the faith look at how we live and – right or no – judge our faith and THE Faith by those lives. By living well, living faithful, living in wisdom, we represent our faith well to the world. When there is disconnect between the faith we claim and the lives we live, we do a disservice to the one we worship.

I believe this is part of the lesson James would have us learn about the tongue. If with the same mouth we both bless and curse – bless God and curse those made in God’s image – we are not serving the God we bless well. It’s a sad thing, but I have heard many a non-church-going folk – here in Staunton and elsewhere too – say that they are skeptical about church – about organized religion in general – because of the people who make up that church. It’s not that they are just so consumed with passion for justice or morality issues non-church people don’t get them. It’s not that people who don’t go to church can’t understand dedicating one’s life to a higher power. No, it breaks my heart, but many people I have spoken with have experienced what James is speaking of, have experienced people of faith with tongues that bring a hellish fire, who bless and then curse with the same mouth. That—that is what they say makes them wary of God’s community, of becoming a part of that community.

It’s so tragic because as Wisdom has told us – once we have ignored the teachings, once we have cursed those made in the image of God – all our good speech, well-tamed tongues, may fall on deaf ears. Once a person sees incongruence between our praise and our praxis, it may be quite the challenge to overcome that impression. We may not ever be able to fully tame our tongue, but with God’s help we can surely find better uses for it than cursing.

We have been given this beast which cannot be tamed because just as it can be a fire of hell, it can be a fire that blazes across this land, burning to the ground systems of oppression and injustice. Where would movements like the civil rights movement be without speeches like “I Have A Dream” engulfing the nation? The tongue can also spark fires of faith within us, use words to create a great light which reflects the light of Christ to the world. But if this tongue is busy cursing others, if we use this powerful fire for our own purposes and NOT God’s, then we have not learned our lessons, we have not give heed to Wisdom. We have not lived as God’s people ought and not proclaimed God’s glory well.

Oscar Romero, a man who lived his faith so thoroughly he was martyred for the righteous fires he set with his tongue, continually spoke of the power of words used well. “God’s best microphone is Christ,” he said, “and Christ’s best microphone is the church, and the church is all of you.” As the church, we are truly are Christ’s voice as well as body. God has given us a wild tongue but also given us the wisdom to appreciate the power of the tongue. If we learn well the lessons God has to teach us, we will radiate the love of God in ways that will make people take notice – good notice. If we give heed to Wisdom, listen to her voice, we will know how best to use ours.

At the entrance of the city gates, Wisdom speaks. Will you listen?

I'm A Believer!

Text: Jonah 1:17-2:10
Ephesians 5:15-20

Let us all pause for a moment of gratitude, gratitude that lately God doesn’t seem to send storms and gigantic sea creatures to swallow us whole whenever we don’t listen. Because if God did, I would imagine that many of us wouldn’t be here right now, rather we’d be swimming around in the ocean, somewhere in the belly of a fish, perhaps trying to remember how Finding Nemo’s Dori spoke whale so we could converse with our new home.

I sincerely doubt that if we were truly honest with ourselves that any of us could say we never refused to do, go, or be what God called us to. Sometimes we feel that tug on our heart that tells us we should say something to that person speaking unkindly of another – even if we’d then be looked down on by that same person. Sometimes we feel pulled to offer our gifts in ways that make us nervous – perhaps to speak in front of a crowd when God has given us something to say but not extreme confidence to go with it. Sometimes we are called by God to give up our dreams of what our life will be and take on God’s dreams for us. And sometimes we don’t respond to the Spirit moving so within us. I would imagine that each of us could think of at least one time we chose to stay with what was known, what was comfortable and safe rather than risk the unknown with God.

To be honest – minus the fish, Jonah’s story really isn’t all that out of the ordinary. He was a man who was happy to be God’s servant – as long as God asked him to do things he approved of. Jonah had no trouble speaking to the people Israel the word of the Lord when it was a positive proclamation. 2 Kings attributes Jonah as the one who prophesied that God would restore Israel’s borders which had been overtaken by her enemies. He doesn’t seem to take much issue proclaiming good news to people he knows. But pronouncing God’s judgment upon a bunch of heathen strangers? No thank you, I’ll go to Tarshish instead. Jonah will trust and follow God, but only so far, and Nineveh, well, Nineveh goes beyond the boundaries of what Jonah is comfortable with.

And so even though God has called him to go somewhere, to speak the word of the Lord, Jonah refuses and tries to flee from the presence of God. Jonah has trouble seeing beyond himself and into God’s will and vision for the world. He’s comfortable with what and who he knows – this strange land with strange people – he doesn’t understand how they could be part of God’s vision.

As I said, other than what happens while he’s in the midst of fleeing from God’s call, Jonah’s story isn’t very unique. Many of us can probably identify with not fully trusting in God’s vision for us. Not fully believing that God’s will and not ours is what we should spend our energies understanding. I know I can. I also wonder if perhaps many of us can identify with Jonah’s fish experience. Not a literal fish, of course, but that moment, that experience, that encounter that makes you take notice, that causes you to say in awe and wonder “I remembered the Lord.” Sometimes our fish comes to us in tragedy, sometimes in a joyful moment. Sometimes we know that we’ve been swallowed right away, sometimes it takes us a few days, or weeks, or even longer to notice that where we are. This morning I’d like to tell you about my encounter with a big fish.

Like Jonah, I’ve had some interesting encounters while I’m in the midst of traveling. My mom worked for Continental Airlines for several years and so – thanks to her benefits – I got to fly more than the average bear. That means I got to have more than the average number of plane conversations – you know, those hour long conversations where you reveal your inner most soul but may not exchange names. Of course, given my answer to the “so, what do you do” question, I also have other than average kinds of conversations. When people find out you’re in seminary or a minister – a visible change comes over them. Sometimes they shut down completely, sometimes they feel the need to confess, sometimes they want to engage me in deep theological conversation – which gets really interesting because when I fly thanks to Dramamine, I’m very drowsy and perhaps more than just a little loopy.

Two days before I left for Ethiopia, I had one of those interesting conversations while I was flying back from my sister’s graduation in Wisconsin. My row mate was a man named Tom – exceedingly cheerful and interested in discussing everything from our families to the hot topics of our time. Not surprisingly what I do and where I was going in two days came up. When Tom and I talked about my upcoming trip to Ethiopia, I expressed my fears about our group’s safety. I had been – I’ll admit – obsessing about that topic for a few days. A few weeks prior I had read about a bus about 80 km from one of the town’s we were going to drive through had been ambushed and 15 people were killed. While in Wisconsin I heard about some other turmoil ending in bloodshed. Tom’s response to this was: don’t worry, you’re going to God’s work and God will keep you safe. And, well, if your worst fears come to be, you’d still be with God and all would be alright.

There was something about his carefree, “it’ll be fine” attitude that just bothered me. It was as though he thought I’d have some sort of invincibility cloak because I was on, as Elwood Blues would say, a mission from God. But as we continued to talk, I realized that wasn’t what he was saying, not exactly. His attitude was more that whatever might happen to me, I would be doing God’s work and be with God and that was all anyone could ask for.

Talking with Tom, I realized that I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed that. It sounds like a great outlook on life, even possibly good solid theology, but I struggled with it. There’s this expression you may have heard, let go and let God. I have confession. The Let go and Let God always bothered me just like Tom’s perspective on life. Because letting go means YOU don’t have a plan and you’re just asking for trouble. Let go means YOU aren’t in control.

Let me make another confession – as a good eldest child, I like control. And when I’m out of it, when I can’t see what’s going to happen next, when I can’t develop plans or strategies, I, well, I panic just a bit. I’m a lot better about this control thing than I used to be but I really like to be able make sure I can foresee what’s going to happen and plan for it.

When it came to Ethiopia, I couldn’t exactly plan for what I was going to find, didn’t have much control over the next three weeks of my life. I couldn’t plan and I wasn’t willing to believe that whatever happened, it would work God’s kingdom, toward God’s purpose. Somewhere deep down inside, I’d like to believe God’s purposes can only be fulfilled if I live a great, long, happy life. That since I had gone along with God with this whole minister thing, since I let God make that decision for me, the rest of my life should go closely according to my plan. That, that would work out really well for me.

Jonah certainly seemed to along the same mindset. He was okay with being called to be a prophet but he didn’t want to be stretched to what he didn’t know, to what he couldn’t foresee. It wasn’t until he was riding around the inside of a big fish that he started to conceive that God was the one in control of his life, that he remembered God and lifted his voice in prayer. I know that three is a popular biblical number – it just sounds good, three days and three nights – but I find it intriguing that it took three days and three nights for Jonah to make this prayer.

If I had been swallowed by a giant fish, and found myself alive and not being digested, I would think one of my very first actions would be to get down on my knees and pray to the Lord who made me saying “you are awesome, please save me, I’ll do whatever you want” over and over again.

That it took three days just speaks to how dense we can be. Tom probably looked at me just the same way I’m looking at Jonah. Amy, you’re in the belly of a fish – don’t you see that God is in charge and in God you should trust. Don’t you believe in God’s vision for you?

I wanted to believe but it’s scary. God’s vision for us is scary because it’s not our vision, it may not fit in with what we had planned. But what’s more, because it’s God’s vision and not ours, we cannot see all of it, we cannot always see how it will work, cannot foretell the outcome of following this vision. God’s vision extends beyond this time and place and we as humans cannot hope to comprehend it all.

As I was preparing to go to this foreign land, I really wanted to believe that all would be okay – at least in God’s terms even if not my own. I wanted to believe and so God sent me a fish, a man named Tom. Tom put these thoughts into my head and as I finished packing, those thoughts just took root. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I just need to trust God to see me through, to catch me if I fell. I needed to believe that if I focused on the will of God, if I allowed myself to be filled with and guided by the Spirit, that God would always be with me. I needed to believe that even though I can’t see beyond the horizon, God can. Believe and trust no matter what, I would be with God. And that would be all I need.

A funny thing happened as our team was at the airport on our way to Ethiopia. As we stood in line preparing to go through security, I was trying very hard to focus on this trust thing and not obsess over the fears that kept rattling around in my head. As I was trying to put my fears aside, I heard a voice call my name. I turned to see who had called and there was Tom, standing in the same line a few people down, a huge smile on his face. I don’t know about signs – that’s another sermon – but I took this encounter as that final kick in the pants - notice it took me only two days and nights. Upon seeing Tom again, I gave into that desire to trust in God, to believe in God’s promises. I gave in and it felt great!

Now, not all my fears were gone, but I didn’t operate out of my fear, didn’t let it keep me from going where God called me. Because I was not absorbed by my fears, I could fully engage in all around me, could be who God wanted me to be while I was there. I crossed over from where I was comfortable – odd to say that fear was comforting but it was – into the unknown of just trusting God completely and found myself so much more comfortable.

We may be grateful that God doesn’t send literal storms and big fishes, but we should also be thankful that different kinds of storms and big fishes enter our lives and shake us up. Thankful that God doesn’t let us flee without putting up something of a fight. Thankful that even it takes three days and three nights – or longer – God is going to stick with us until we understand the will of the Lord. Until we give into it, give into God. Until we shout with greater excitement and joy thank Donkey did in Shrek, “I’m a believer!” And brothers and sisters, I am!

Amen.

A Love Letter

Dear Covenant,
Have I told you lately that I love you? Because I do! Last Tuesday, Aug 15, marked the 1 year anniversary of me being your Associate Pastor. It has been a year beyond expectations for me – I couldn’t have asked for a better first year as a minister. Whenever I speak with one of my peers from seminary, they always remark on just how happy I sound. And there’s a reason for that – you! Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing some reflecting on what about this community that I love so much. Here are just a few of those things.

I love how you warmly welcomed me and accepted me. With notes of encouragement and galas of welcome, with food and entertainment, with smiles and hugs, you have made me feel loved. You have also let me love you right back – which isn’t hard at all to do!

I love your giving nature. When there is a special offering, we always have such a wonderful response. When we need volunteers for anything, you are there. When I need another set of eyes and ears, you offer honest and reflective thoughts.

I love your differences. This church is not comprised of people who all think alike or act alike and thank God for that! We have a range of different ways of celebrating and worshiping God, have various ways of thinking about theology, and we don’t let any difference get in our way of loving each other and the God that has called us together.

I love your willingness to try new things. Over the last year I have had the opportunity to see and support new programs in throughout the life of the church, new ways of worshipping, new ways of (as we used to say in seminary) “being Church.” I have rarely heard the proverbial “but we’ve always done it this way” and that has been a blessing. You’re open to where God made lead you – both individually and communally.

I love so many more things. I love the hugs I get after worship, I love getting to be silly with the youth (and some of the adults!). I love running into you wherever I go, from the grocery store when I’m shopping to the coffee shop when I’m working on a sermon. I love that some of you tease me about my dancing during worship – and that some of you join in. I love getting to know you and I love that I have so much more of that in my future.

In case you didn’t get it the first 50 times, I love this church and I look forward to many more years of ministry together.

Love!
Amy

Ethiopian Reflection - June 16

I got a decent night’s sleep last night – not perfect, though. I woke up with Muslim call to prayer at 5am and didn’t go back to sleep after that. This morning for breakfast we went to Motera Motel and I enjoyed my first macchiato and sadly my first “cooked in oil” food. The eggs I had tasted fine on the way down but left a filmy feeling in my mouth and a queasy feeling in my stomach. Cooking oil is actually rancid butter – didn’t know that until after we ordered. Liz found out the hard way – ordering French Toast just soaked in the stuff. Oh, my stomach churns just thinking about it.

On the drive over to the Hilton Hotel to exchange money, we had more people at our windows. That’s starting to make my stomach churn as well, though in a different way. We aren’t going to give them money – in part because we might get mauled (for more money) and because it’s hard to assess real need in a place so poor. The people at the window make my stomach churn because of the way I handle it. Jeff will just say “no, no” over and over – my strategy, ignore them altogether. The rough faces, deformed hands, children’s eyes – I ignore. Don’t look, don’t make eye contact, don’t acknowledge their existence in any way. That’s what bothers me so much. Here are the least and the lowly, and I turn my head. It’s not that I want to remain unaware of their plight, that I want to avoid seeing such poverty so close – that hasn’t been a problem for me so far. It is so much more that if I looked at them, told them “no,” I would have to see either the disappointment or a refusal to give up or–sometimes–anger. And so I don’t acknowledge those who stand at the car and I feel horrible.

On the way back from lunch we drove through a good deal of Addis – or at least it felt that way. So many buildings, all smushed together, many made of metal sheeting, many looking so much worse for the wear. During our drive around town, we also noticed needs of both sheep (and maybe goats – I can’t tell) and even Brahma cows. They seemed to know where to go, crossing the street as a group, guided by a shepherd. We also saw donkeys carrying large bags on their backs – I never knew that was really something people did.

When we got back to the compound, we headed over to the Bethel Makane Yesus School. There we met with Ato Teferra, the principle. He told us some interesting information – for example, the government does not allow religion taught in any schools, even private schools like Bethel. That floored me. Public I could understand, but private? Teferra took us on a tour of the school – we visited both kindergarten classes and grades 1-4. Oh, those kids were precious! They (almost all) sang “This is the Day” among other songs. The older kids we got to ask questions. I had the best time being silly with them (surprise, surprise) – asking them about their favorite and least favorite subjects. I have decided that a child’s giggle is a universal sound.

After our touring of the school and some time of rest – thank goodness for rest! – we went to an Abyssinian restaurant. There was lots of good national food and fun traditional dancing. Well, we enjoyed the dancing. Our hosts laughed hysterically at some of it. After dinner and dancing, it was time for bed!

Obade, Obada, Obadiah! Lalalala, Obadiah

Texts: Obadiah 1-15; Luke 6:27-31


Have you ever had a day where you just know you shouldn’t get out of bed? Not because you’re too tired or your bed is too comfortable, but because something is telling you, don’t do it, because somehow you know, you just know that this day isn’t going to be any good.

I don’t know if Edom got the message or not, but this nation should have definitely just stayed in bed. Because as soon as Edom got up, even before he had poured his first eye-opening cup of coffee, somebody is knocking on his door. Knocks like a prophet. Knocks like Obadiah. Obadiah doesn’t just gently tap, he pounds his heart into that door. Because Obadiah has been brought to Edom’s door by a vision searing his eyes, the word of God burning his tongue.

“Edom, Edom, the day has come. It is time to hear your ruin pronounced.”

Edom might just shake his head and go ahead and pour that cup of coffee. Ruin? Who in the world would bring ruin upon his head? Who could? Edom had good reason to feel so confident, to say in his heart “who will bring me down to the ground?” Edom was better off than many nations. More than enough food and water, easily defendable. On this country’s land, there were highlands which rose southeast of the Dead Sea in 3 great steps of sandstone cliffs to a height of more than 5, 000 feet; there was a maze of mountains, cliffs, chasms. It would take a lot to bring Edom low. Someone, some nation, would surely think twice – if not more – about attacking Edom.

Many would not blame Edom ignoring Obadiah at his door. Edom is a great nation and Obadiah, who does he represent? Israel? Well, as Edom has seen first hand, Israel was just overtaken by another country called Babylon. The people were taken into exile or sold into slavery – only the stragglers remained behind, stragglers like this prophet Obadiah. Would he be the one to bring Edom down? He and what army? Israel was scattered, nothing was left of this once great nation.

Obadiah won’t be ignored, however. He keeps pounding away because he does not come representing Israel – he has come representing the God of Israel, Adonai. He has come as his name suggests, as a servant of the Lord, a Lord who has some words for Edom.

“Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down.” Maybe those words got Edom’s attention, made him put his cup of coffee down and actually listen to the words from the intent man knocking at his door. But if those words didn’t catch his attention, surely the next will. Obadiah paints an ugly picture for Edom. Everything Edom has will be lost – the wisdom traditions Edom is known for, all treasures, the holy sites, all understanding – everything will be lost, not to strangers but to those once called friends. Not even a remnant will be left behind.

Why does Edom receive such a proclamation? Because Edom three times wronged the Lord and the Lord’s people. As Obadiah reminds Edom, it is for the slaughter and violence done to Israel that shame will cover him. For Edom has taken treasures of Israel, captured the Israelites and sold them into slavery. This is the first wrong. But Edom did not attack Israel, make war against the nation for want of land or goods. Edom watched while the armies of Babylon moved in, watched as Babylon destroyed the temple, scattered the people, and then and only then, did he swoop down from his lofty perch, not like an eagle, but like a vulture. For Edom is a scavenger, picking Israel clean of any goods Babylon left behind, cutting off the fleeing Israelite’s path of escape, capturing them and handing them over to the highest bidder. Nothing but the bones of Israel remained after Edom came through. This is the second wrong.

The third wrong is perhaps the greatest wrong of all. Edom wasn’t just some well-to-do nation, a bully that kicked Israel when he was done. Edom was, is, Israel’s brother. For just as Israel was once called Jacob, Edom was once called Esau. Jacob and Esau, brothers, twins.

Instead of helping his brother, coming to his aid, Edom gloated, rejoiced even, in the day of Judah’s distress. And so Obadiah is here to tell him, that the day of the Lord is near. The day when the nations, Edom’s allies and confederates who have sat down at table and broken bread with him, the day when these nations turn on Edom and driving HIM from HIS home. That day is near.

For as Edom has done, so shall it be done to him. You reap what you sow, this is a familiar concept to us, familiar to people all around the world, people of all different faiths. “Your deeds shall return on your head,” Obadiah tells us. The Hindu tradition of karma tells us that “you do good things, good things will happen to you - if you do bad things, bad things will happen to you;” Wiccan tradition holds to the law of three – whatever you put out into the universe, good or bad, you will receive them three times as much.

I know I have been caught when I stubbed my toe right after I had perhaps not such a nice thought, saying “okay, God, you’re right, I’m sorry,” as though my negative energy was brought back down upon me in the form on an injured tow. Even though intellectually I believe God has better things to do than make me stub my toe, I have inherited trace elements of a belief in a cosmic reward and punishment system, as Proverbs says – “the righteousness of the blameless keeps their way straight but the wicked fall by their own wickedness.[1]”

But I dismiss my injured appendage as God’s punishment, dismiss this worldview being so encompassing, because it is a worldview that does not always seem to hold true. This is the same observation made by the writer of Ecclesiastes. “There is a vanity,” Qoheleth says, “that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people who are treated according to the conduct of the wicked, and there are wicked people who are treated according to the conduct of the righteous[2].” Or in other, more popularized words, bad things happen to good people.

Having just witnessed a horrible thing, the destruction of Jerusalem, the utter desolation of his people, having just experienced immense loss himself, Obadiah, this servant of the Lord, perhaps can appreciate Qoheleth’s viewpoint better than most. Divine retribution cannot be the only statement Obadiah is making in his proclamation. When he says “as you have done, it shall be done to you,” he is pronouncing the reality of the world which God created. There is another Hebrew tradition, found in other prophets like Hosea, that says the punishment is in the thing itself. Edom’s punishment is found in, is a result of, Edom’s actions. In God’s created world, when you break covenant with your brother, those you consider friends will see no problem in turning on you. The truth is, once friends start turning on friends, family on family, then it’s all down hill. The cycle of destruction will continue, one country attacking another, one brother attacking the other. It will continue until somebody stops it, until someone breaks the circle of hatred.

This cycle of violence, of hatred and animosity, this is what Jesus is addressing when he says “do unto others as you would have them do to you.” Jesus tells his followers, tells us to love our enemies, not just love them with some sort of passive love – but an active love. One that has us pray for our those who have hurt us, bless them, do good for them. For it is only when we offer our other cheek when someone strikes us instead of striking back that we can break the cycle.

Someone has to be the first one to step back and offer the olive branch, offer their cheek, otherwise generation after generation will practice evil, will curse, will wish ill on those they consider enemies.

As followers of Christ, we have been given the daunting charge to be those someones. We are called to end the cycles of bitterness and animosity in our own lives, in all parts of our lives. When someone makes a snide comment to us at school, we are called to not offer one back, as witty as it may be. When someone at work takes advantage of us, we are called to not do the same if given the opportunity, no matter how far ahead we may get. When someone we love, we trust, causes us pain, we are called to not intentionally hurt them back, no matter how much it may make us feel better in the moment. We are called to forgive as we long to be forgiven.

We all know when we offer our other cheek, we risk getting slapped again. But if we do not risk it, we will find ourselves trapped in an endless cycle of ugliness that I can’t imagine anyone would want to be a part of.

We also know that when Christ calls for us to love our enemies, he isn’t calling us to love just for ourselves or even for OUR enemies. Christ calls for us to forgive, to love, to do good, for all. We are called to be an example, that those around us might see how we offer love in the face of hate, blessings in the midst of curses, good in the face of evil, that they might see the power of Christ’s love lived out through us and find themselves changed, moved toward this way of living. Instead of perpetuating a cycle of hatred and bitterness, we are called to strengthen and spread a cycle of love and grace.

For some of us, loving our enemies may seem particularly daunting. Many of us have been hurt by people in ways that seem unforgivable. Over the years I have heard more than one person comment on turning the other check, saying “but Jesus really didn’t mean in this situation.” I don’t know what Jesus really meant, but knowing his ministry and message, I would imagine that whatever situations we think Jesus wouldn’t want us to turn our other cheek, that those are the ones in which we need to the most. That those situations are where we might be surprised and moved by the power of love has.

Love can overcome hate, goodness can overcome evil and the players in Obadiah’s prophecy are proof of that. While the relationship between Edom and Israel in Obadiah’s time remind us of how hatred and violence can be cyclical, the relationship between their forebears remind us that even what seems unforgivable can be forgiven, that love not hate leads to prosperity.

For in Jacob and Esau, we have a relationship torn apart by animosity and bitterness AND a relationship renewed by forgiveness and love. When Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright and their father’s blessing, Esau wanted to kill him – this is why Jacob left his family’s land and went to his uncle Laban – where he would grow in wealth and wives. When turmoil at Laban’s brought Jacob back to his homeland, Esau brought four hundred men with him – men who certainly weren’t there as welcoming party – to meet is brother. Upon hearing this, Jacob does not raise up his own troops, arm his men, he sends gifts. When the brothers finally do met, Jacob brings only his family, he leaves himself vulnerable to Esau’s wrath, and bows before him seven times. And Esau, Esau who lost everything to his younger brother who was always mom’s favorite, Esau runs up to meet him, embraces him, kisses him, and the two brothers, reconciled, weep together. Their reconciliation strengthened their families – when they did go their separate ways again, it wasn’t because of hostility but because together the two families were so prosperous that the land could not sustain both.

While later in generations Edom forgets the covenant with Israel, here Esau and Jacob remember what it is to be brothers, what it is to be children of Abraham, the light to the nations. They both offered love to the one who caused them much pain, they both broke the cycle of bitterness and promoted one of forgiveness. Esau and Jacob remind us that rancor truly can turn to respect, animosity to affection, loathing to love. May we remember their story, may their story be our story as we are like Esau and not Edom, may we trust in the power of God’s grace and do unto others as we would have them do to us. Amen.

[1] Proverbs 11:5
[2] Ecclesiastes 8:14

A Snippet of a Story

Greetings from Ethiopia! No, wait, greetings from Montreat! No, that’s not right either. Greetings from Covenant? Yep, that’s the right one. My travels have brought across the Atlantic Ocean and back, across the Virginia/North Carolina border and back and I must say it is good to be back. I had an amazing time with our youth in Montreat - these kids have such joy and enthusiasm. I also had an almost inexpressibly meaningful and powerful time in Ethiopia. On August 20 for Mission Sunday you’ll hear quite a bit about our team’s travels and thoughts, but I’d like to share one story with you now.

The street children in Addis Ababa tended to come across to me as more hardened, embittered than their country counterparts. We would be asked for money frequently, whenever our car stopped at a stop sign or if and when we got out of the car. Though asked, we never gave – certainly not because we wouldn’t want to but because if we gave to one child or even all the children around us, it wouldn’t be enough. More would come and our safety could become an issue. So as hard as it was to say no (or ignore the requests altogether) this is what we did. In return we often received rude looks or gestures.

During one of our last days in Addis, I was walking from our car to a small shop only about 20 meters away when a young boy, one of the street children, put out his hand and asked me for money. I told him “no money, no money” followed by a “poof” complete with hand gestures (think ‘I’ve just made a rabbit disappear’). The boy looked at me rather strangely and so I repeated “poof” with my magician hands. Then he started to giggle. This was a sound I had heard many times before in the country but not from a city street kid. He repeated my gestures and word back to me and we laughed together until I got to the shop. I did my shopping and when I came out, I saw my little friend again. He had gone on to see if others might give him some change but came running up to me with another “poof” and a giggle. Though we had not exchanged money, we did exchange laughter and in that joy, we managed to make a connection – however brief – that warmed my heart a thousand times over.

Comes A Time

Now that I'm back and sort of settled in, I hope to soon give some more glimpses into my Ehtiopia experience. But until then, here's my first sermon since I've come back home.

Esther 1:1, 10-22
John 4:18-19

Today we continue our Minor Book, Major Message series with the book of Esther. Some of you may have been surprised to find Esther in this series – how many of you think you know Esther’s story, at least a little bit? The young girl that becomes queen and with the help of a cousin, gets the king to save the people Israel, her people: that’s one we’ve heard before. After all, it’s a story and a book that’s celebrated by lots of folks. There’s a whole great festival in Jewish tradition, Purim, that celebrates her victory with days of eating and drinking. Her story has also inspired some more contemporary celebrations - there are several musicals, from which I shall refrain from singing, and there’s even a pretty stellar Veggie Tales movie starring a green onion Esther and a grape Mordecai. Even though her story only makes one appearance in our lectionary, we know something about Esther.

But what came before Esther, now there’s something to be explored. How many of you knew who Vashti was before this morning? It’s hard being the one that came before everybody’s favorite. Esther we know, but the woman who came before her, she often gets forgotten as we rush ahead to the story we know and love. But when we rush over this first chapter, rush to get to Esther and Mordecai, rush to the “good stuff,” we miss out on some of the best stuff.

Vashti’s story – well, I’ll be honest, it’s pretty racy and it’s pretty discomforting. The story we heard today is only part of the story. After the seventh day, we read, when the king was ahem, “merry” with wine, he sent his eunuchs to fetch Vashti. Well, it was on the seventh day of “merriment,” the seventh day of a party that followed another party. This wasn’t Ahesuerus’ first hootenanny, it was his second most recent feast. The first lasted a little bit longer than 7 days, it lasted 180 days. So, it was really on the 187th day of partying, the king sends his eunuchs to gather his wife, the queen.

He sent these eunuchs to fetch his wife, who in just these last 7 days had been feasting with women, not because he wants to share in festivities with her or because he wants to ask her a question or anything like that. He wanted her to come so he can show her off. Parading the Queen in front of his guests would be the culmination of all these days of feasting. For these feasts aren’t so much about having a good time as they are about showing off. All the grand parties are about displaying the great wealth of Ahasuerus’ kingdom and the splendor and pomp of his dynasty. He must be an amazing king – he’s got all these great linens and couches, and just look at the marble all around the palace. The food and wine flowed without restraint, and the king instructed that all the officials could do as each desired. It was the greatest party ever thrown to show that Ahasuerus’ was the greatest king ever known.

And into this party, this party with free flowing wine where every man could do whatever he pleased, whatever that might mean, the king instructs Vashti to come that he might show these drink-heavy, inhibition free officials, her beauty. He also instructed that she should appear wearing the royal crown, the ultimate symbol of Ahasuerus’ power. Now, traditional interpretation has held that he was telling her to appear in the crown and the crown alone. Like I said, this story gets pretty racy. Whether or not this demand went to that extreme, the king is asking something of Vashti that would seem inappropriate for our time, let alone in a time when a woman’s modesty was everything to her. By telling her to come the king was telling his queen to debase herself, was treating her as another possession and not a person.

And Vashti said no.

She said no and then she loses everything. Like I said, this story gets pretty discomforting. Her story isn’t familiar to us in part I think because it doesn’t have a happy ending. A just ending. She stands up for herself and she loses everything. She loses her crown, her status, her husband, even her voice. Though we know she refuses the king’s demand, we know this only because of the narrator. We never hear her say no, we never hear her. Vashti is silenced by the text and then forgotten by the story that quickly moves on to the next queen. And what kind of an ending is that? No riding off into the sunset, no fairy godmother waving her magicwand, no hope for happily ever after. We don’t know Vashti’s fate, but for a deposed queen, for a rejected wife, in her time, it can’t be too promising.

In Jewish midrash tradition, the rabbis recognized something wasn’t right with this scenario. Perhaps they didn’t like that a woman standing up for herself would be so discarded, don’t like how villainous this makes Esther’s future husband look. So what do they do? They make Vashti a villain. In the Talmund, she becomes the great-granddaughter of Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, the arch-villain who destroyed the temple and sent the Jews into exile. Some rabbis make her vain, changing the story so that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to display herself before the king and his intoxicated friends because of any concern of self-preservation or self-worth. Rather she had been stricken with leprosy, or my favorite, had been cursed with a tail and so she didn’t want anyone to see her in her less than gorgeous state.

In the Christian tradition we don’t have midrash to explain away Vashti’s fate. Instead we, like our text, have silence. Her story is not part of our lexicon, our lectionary, it gets skipped over, forgotten, made the unmemorable prologue to Esther’s tale, because it reeks of injustice. Vashti is saying no to oppression, yes to what she knows is right, yes the image of God within her… and her life is completely destroyed.

A story like this is hard to swallow – I like to think when people stand up for injustice, stand up for themselves, that even if it’s a hard battle, it’s one they eventually win. But that is not the truth of Vashti’s world and it’s not the world we live in. Vashti’s story reminds me of a piece of history that has always bothered me. I remember when learning about the different landmarks in the fight for emancipation of slaves, we heard about a man who like Vashti was treated like property, who fought for his freedom and lost in a big way. Dred Scott was a slave who sued for his freedom since he had been taken to a “free” state, and thus set free, and so he claimed he could not be enslaved again. He went through 11 years of fighting for his case, both he and his wife finally losing when the case was appealed to the Supreme Court.

The court made the decision against Scott on the basis that slaves were not citizens of the United States, and could never be, and did not have the right to bring a case to court. The chief justice wrote that “blacks had no rights which the white man was bound to respect; and that the negro might JUSTLY and lawfully be reduced to slavery for his benefit.”

The decision certainly doesn’t sound like justice to me. Not justice for Dred Scott, nor justice for all the other slaves who were denied the legality of their citizenship with that court decision. It doesn’t sound like just but as I said before it does sound like what happened with Vashti. Treated as property, she stood up for herself and lost. And, as with Dred Scott, holding on to her own integrity created an immediate backlash for her fellow women. If you remember the story, after Vashti is banished, a decree goes out to all women everywhere saying that no matter how high or low, no matter how wise or slow, no matter how kind or mean, no matter what all women should give honor to their husbands and all men should be master of his own house. (Now, remember men, this is a story about injustice, so don’t be getting any ideas.)

Both Vashti’s and Scott’s stories can be disheartening because we want to believe if we should be treated unjustly or if we should see someone else being oppressed, if we stand up and speak, speak for righteousness, speak for God’s kingdom here on earth, then surely, with God on our side, our speech will be heard and wrongs will be righted. We want to believe that as followers of the one who came to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, that as followers of Christ we will be able to realize jubilee, see God’s kingdom come, a kingdom of righteousness and justice.

We want to believe these things because we have been taught to believe them. We have been taught that we are the only hands Christ has in this world, the only feet, only heart, only body. We have been taught that all things are possible in and through Christ.

We have also been taught that while we are Christ’s ambassadors in this world, we are NOT God. Meaning, that though we may work for God’s kingdom, we do not know how or when it will come. We live in an immediate satisfaction society. What do we want, justice, when do we want it, now! This isn’t a bad thing to want and I know I am guilty of this immediate want as much as anybody else. And so I also know it’s hard to think that when we do what is right, what we think God wants for us and for God’s world, that there might be a delay in achieving those wants. That when we stand up for what is right, when we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God, we may not benefit from our work. I know it can be hard for us to see beyond ourselves into God’s greater kingdom.

As both Vashti’s and Scott’s stories spoke to the power of injustice, they also speak to God’s ability to work through us and beyond us. Scott fought for his freedom, and lost, but he did eventually find himself freed. His case made such an uproar among many northerners, even those who were not abolitionists or even necessarily anti-slavery, that his owners sold him to people who would set him free. And what’s more, the decision of the Supreme Court on his case made the issue of slavery too uncomfortable for those who had been able to ignore it before to continue to do so. This case is also is often attributed as one of the factors that lead to the nomination of Abraham Lincoln, the signer of the Emancipation Proclamation, to the Republican Party and subsequent election.

And Vashti – well, remember the book her story begins. The story of a queen deposed and women everywhere told to submit is the start of a tale of a woman who bends a king to her will and saves her entire people. Her story begins a tale that Jewish people celebrate every year to renew hope that all though they have suffered much, their final victory is assured.

Both Dred Scott and Queen Vashti remind us that when we are working toward God’s vision for us, when we take a stand, when we do what’s right and not what is safe, sometimes, we suffer for it. We, as individuals, may suffer and may not, I’m sorry to say, we may not see the righteousness we work for over come injustice in our lives. But their stories also remind us that we may have hope for our final victory, for God’s victory, for God’s kingdom breaking through in this world in our lives but also beyond our lives. We have hope that the seeds for justice may bloom in our lives and our lifetimes, but if they do not, they still will bloom within the full life and lifetime of God’s creation.

I wish Vashti’s story had a happy ending. I wish that once she was deposed, she found herself a nice little community, maybe even a nicer husband, and lived out the rest of her life well respected and well loved. And, who knows, maybe she did. But what’s more important than her fate, what we can learn from her story is that there is something more important than her fate. The story goes on and while it is sad we never hear of Vashti again, we do hear of Esther’s triumph and of the people Israel being saved. Each one of us here is an important part of God’s creation but we are not the beginning nor the end of that creation. When we work for what we believe God wants for us as individuals and as community, we cannot be working for ourselves. We must be working for God’s kingdom. For when we stand up for ourselves and for those around us, for what we know God wants for us, we agents of God’s kingdom, even if we cannot see it. We are working for God and trust that one day indeed that the blind will see and the oppressed will go free.

Dred Scott was just simple man who wanted to be free, as his epitaph says. And when Vashti stood up for herself, I doubt she could have ever imagined it would lead to the saving of a whole people. Neither likely understood those rippling affects their personal struggles would bring. Neither, I would imagine, do we. And so though we may be frustrated by any lack of success in righting wrongs in our own lives, we should be encouraged that God works in us and beyond us. We may and should take comfort that though the kingdom may not come fully here and now, we are still members of it and one day, even if not this day, God’s kingdom will come. Amen.

June 14th-15th

As it turns out we have internet access at the guest house we are staying at for two nights (last night and tonight). So I thought I'd post my first journal entry about what we've experiences so far.

June 14th-June 15th

Start: Washington, D.C. 8pm, the 14th
Finish: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 7:30pm, the 15th
Time on a plane: 21 1/2 hours
Total Traveling Time from Staunton to Bethel Synod's Guest House: 26 hours

And some how we survived!

Things we observed/experienced:
*Cheesy movies on the plane
*Well-behaved children, also on the plane
*Rome's airport (I got to step out on one of landings and breathe fresh air!
the Italian countryside
*when you ask for red wine on the plane - which the couple in front of Liz and I did - they hand you a whole half bottle. Sheesh.
*Addis Ababa at night - interesting note, the lights seemed more orange than in the States - don't suppose they have white light tech
*children - boys - running up to the van, standing right next to our windows and saying "no mother, no fatehr, no family, want for bread." That's such an odd place to be in - because of course your heart goes out to any one, but a child especially, who is struggling just to survive, but you don't know if these kids really are (we've been told it's a nice way to make easy money and so kids with family and bread ask as well) and you know if you give to one, all the others will come rushing for you and you really and truly only have so much to give
*people, all along the sidewalks, bundled up in thin cloth, clearly homeless, clearly in need of some care
*the Bethel Guest House is quite lovely - from where I'm sitting now, I can look out the window and see flowers newly planted in beds, can see trees I'm not familiar with, can see the Land Cruiser that's taking us to Bedele tomorrow
*the guard at the gate to the Bethel Synod compound had a hood over his head and was carrying a big stick - he looked like he was right out of Robin Hood!
*Addis smells like gasoline

Since we're leaving tomorrow, we're leaving this internet access behind, probably will be a while before I can give another entry. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

and we're off!

The Ethiopian team heads off tomorrow - and I'm actually all packed!

Since we won't have much if any access to the internet, this is probably it from me for awhile. I'll look forward, though, to coming back with many tales.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

Blessings
Amy

and this is why i love church

After the 8:30 service this morning, one of our church kids gave me a nice long hug. When her mom said it's time to go, she looked up at me and said "I'm glad you're my sister."

*insert heart melting noise*

I'm glad she's my sister too. I'm glad I have such wonderful brothers and sisters in Covenant and beyond. Man, do I love the church.

Walk On

Texts
Psalm 1
Acts 1:15-26

“The evil men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.”[1]

This sentiment is taken from Marc Anthony’s speech in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, a play which portrays perhaps the only betrayal that rivals in infamy that of Judas’. While Anthony makes this statement in reference to Caesar, such a statement could just as easily be said for Judas. Whatever good Judas may have done, teaching and healing he practiced at Jesus’ side, the acts of kindness he performed, his share in the disciples’ ministry as they followed this rabbi from Nazareth, is lost to us. But the evil that he did has certainly lived on after him.

The kiss, the 30 pieces of silver, even his name have become part of our lexicon for ultimate betrayal. While Pilate and the chief priests certainly had their hand in Jesus’ death, it was the part Judas played that is viewed as most heinous of all. While many hurt Christ, failed Christ, it is this man who was part of the inner circle, this man who sent his friend to death with a kiss, this man who is the chief villain of the piece.

Arch-villan is how much Western popular culture has seen Judas throughout history. He as appeared shadowy figure Da Vinci’s Last Supper, is condemned to the lowest circle of hell in Dante’s Inferno[2], and has even been turned into another villainous archetype, Dracula, by contemporary filmmaker Wes Craven.

Our church culture has reacted in similar ways (though as far as I know, there are no claims about Judas really being a vampire). One Easter-tide tradition that was once practiced throughout Europe and is still practiced in parts of places like Greece, Portugal, Mexico, and Venezuela, is the burning of Judas. In some Orthodox and Catholic communities, an effigy of Judas is hanged on Good Friday – drawing on Matthew’s version of Judas’ death – and then burned on Easter Sunday.

While there are certain exceptions, most of Western and later Christian history has painted Judas as the ultimate in human evil. But it’s not that simple. Judas did a horrible thing to be sure, but was he filled with nothing but evil as many have insinuated and believed? Probably not. He was called by Christ, after all, and served as a disciple for sometime before the big betrayal. While we don’t know of the good deeds he did, it would be hard to imagine there were none. Indeed, it would be impossible to imagine that there was no good within him. For while Judas betrayed Jesus, yes, he was not some pure demon who infiltrated Jesus’ closet circle. He was a man, he was human. He was one of us.

Perhaps that is why we often paint Judas the evil villain, complete with top hat and handlebar mustache. Because the more extreme he becomes, the less we can see ourselves in him. For Judas begins like we do – he hears a call to follow Jesus and he answers. He, like us, is a disciple of Christ, a disciple who does not fully understand all that God is doing in his presence, all that God envisions and plans beyond what he himself can see. And he ends like we hope not to end, as someone who turns against the one who has called him, taught him, loved him.

We are fascinated by Judas in part because his is a cautionary tale to future disciples, to us. Perhaps this is why Peter, as he is speaking to the crowd of believers, indeed as he is addressing the yet unnamed one who will be chosen to fill the betrayer’s place, speaks of Judas and his fate. Judas’ path is complicated, telling a truth that contradicts the suggestion that people are clearly good or bad. His life is one that has seen both ways, both the way of the righteous and the way of the wicked. His story could be our story, or so we fear because we all have known what it is to stumble in our walk with Christ, what it’s like to stray from the way of righteousness.

We are not the only ones to be so fascinated by this man, not the only ones to struggle with the question of how could someone, someone called a disciple, betray Christ? From the beginning, Christian communities have sought to make sense of this difficult question, to understand this troubling figure.

Within the gospels, Judas himself can be interpreted as many things. In Mathew and Mark Judas might be understood as a man who began good but was seduced to the way of the wicked by worldly thoughts of money or power.

The other two gospels suggest Judas was brought low by something much more otherworldly. The writer of Luke-Acts states that Satan entered Judas before he went away to plot with the chief priests to betray Jesus. Perhaps within his community, the community our Acts text was written within, the only way to make sense of what Judas did was to think of demonic forces at work.

In the Gospel according to John, however, Judas is not turned from good to evil by Satan. While Satan does enter Judas, he was bad from the very beginning. He was a thief; put in charge of the group’s money purse, he took a little for himself now and again. John’s Jesus is not ignorant of his disciple’s less than honorable heart nor does he wait until the Passover seder which became his Last Supper to announce it. Though he does not name him, Jesus vocalizes Judas’ true nature to all his disciples at the start, saying “Did I not choose you twelve? Yet one of you is a devil.”[3]

The gospel writers and their communities are certainly not the only ones within the early Christian movement to try and understand this complicated person of Judas. By now I would imagine most of you have heard about the Gospel of Judas, the manuscript of which current resides not too far from here at the National Geographic Explorers’ Hall in D.C.

Textual clues and references in other documents, suggest that this Gospel was written prior to 180 B.C.E., perhaps even as early as 130 B.C.E. This means the Gospel of Judas was written perhaps even as close as a few decades after the canonical gospels. While the communities of those gospels read and believed in a Judas who betrayed Jesus, the community of the Gospel of Judas was reading and believing in a Judas who did not betray Christ, indeed, in a Judas who was so obedient to Jesus that he turned his master over to the authorities out of love and devotion. For in the Gospel of Judas, Judas is Jesus’ most beloved disciple, who receives special teaching and a special assignment. Jesus wants Judas to turn him over, tells him to. True, others will not understand and Judas will be hated, but one day he will be rule over the other generations for what he has done.

While this text surely strays from canonical interpretation, it is interpreting the same events found within our four gospels in order to make sense out of the tradition of Judas’ betrayal. Clearly the writer of this gospel and the community he wrote in and for had trouble understanding how one called by Christ to serve could turn against him.

And yet it is curious that all these communities should wonder “how” Judas could betray Christ; curious that in trying to understand, some of these communities would interpret his actions being inspired by Satan or even go so far as to suggest Jesus really wanted Judas to turn him over.

It is most curious for us today if when we look within our text at the one who is speaking to the crowd of early believers about Judas’ betrayal and fate. Peter is certainly not a sin-free man. Though appointed “Rock” of the early Christian movement, Peter’s own disciple record leaves room for improvement. While Jesus called Judas a devil, Peter is the one who was rebuked with “get behind me, Satan.” And while Jesus foretold of Judas’ betrayal, he also spoke of Peter denying him not once but three times. It could be and has been argued that Peter’s denial of Jesus was just as much of a betrayal as Judas’ kiss. Just like Judas, Peter did not trust in Jesus’ promises, his teachings, didn’t fully believe and understand Jesus as Messiah.

Peter denied Christ, betrayed Christ, and yet it is Peter who is telling the believers and the soon-to-be new disciple Matthias of Judas’ fate. Peter who understands that it is indeed possible and all-too-easy to stray from the way of the righteous to the way of the wicked is telling these followers of Christ the cautionary tale of Judas. Peter who perhaps realizes that the real warning found in Judas’ story is not his betrayal, rather, it is what follows.

For Peter knows as well as any of us that greatest thing Judas is remembered for is not all that unique. While none of us will ever likely do so in such theatric fashion as Judas, we will each, have each, turn against God. For what are we doing when we sin but betraying God in our own way. When we sin, we - like Judas - betray the good work God is doing within us. When we sin, we – like Peter – deny that we know God and God’s way. We may wish it were otherwise, hopefully strive for it to be so, but the truth is this: we are all sinners, all deniers, all betrayers.

And yet we are not all like Judas. For while Judas’ infamous act may not be what we are warned against, his life does still speak to those who would follow Christ. For while he, like us, like the believers, like Peter, is a sinner, he is – hopefully – different from all others. What sets Judas apart is not his kiss of betrayal, is not his turning against God, but it is his turning aside from God.

Peter’s description of Judas includes a narration of his death. Judas’ death and the details surrounding it is where we find our warning, where we may learn from and not repeat his history. For what does Judas do before he dies? He buys a field. A seemingly innocuous action until you think about what that field represents. When Jesus calls his disciples, when he speaks about being a disciple, he makes it very clear – to follow him, walk with him, you have to leave behind all you have, your fish, your friends, your fields. You have to be willing to go where he will lead you, go where the Spirit sends. Judas, at one point in time, did that. He heard the call and he answered it; he began to walk with Christ. But now from Peter, we hear that Judas buys a plot of land. He becomes fixed. This purchase isn’t about investment or livelihood – it is a statement, one that says his journey with Christ, both figurative and literal, is over. He is finished walking.

Judas has turned aside from God to go to his own place. He hasn’t just sinned against God, he has given up on his journey with God, given up on his walk of faith. He allowed his betrayal, his sin, to overwhelm him, to stop him from walking. The Matthew account of Judas’ death makes this even more clear. In it, Judas actually repents, gives back the 30 pieces of silver to the chief priests, because he is so distraught by what he has done. He repents and then hangs himself. He repents and then does not allow for what may come from that repentance. He does not trust in forgiveness, he does not believe in grace. Instead, he turns aside from God.

This is what we are being cautioned against. This is what we should think of when we think on Judas. We do not know what God may have done with Judas, the good God might have worked through him, because that good is interred with Judas’ bones. That good was lost when Judas gave up. While his betrayal may have captured the attention and imagination of so many generations, it is his ending that should capture ours. For his betrayal warns against sin, against the way of the wicked – something we certainly should be concerned with but will never be able to completely avoid. We will stray, for we, like Judas, sin.

But we, unlike Judas, do not have to give up on our journey with Christ. We, unlike Judas, should trust in God’s grace, in the power of God’s mercy. We, unlike Judas, must believe that no matter how much we turn against God, no matter how greatly we betray our Lord, we can find forgiveness.

No sin – even Judas’ – is too great for God’s grace, too awful for God’s forgiveness. No sin means that we must give up on our journey of faith. No sin, no straying, no denial, no doubt means that God has given up on us. So listen to Peter, learn from Judas. Never give up on your journey with Christ. Whether in small steps or in large strides, keep walking with the Lord. No matter what, keep on walking.


[1] William Shakespeare. Julius Caesar. III, ii, 77.
[2] Along with Cassius and Brutus, the two men who conspired against Caesar.
[3] John 6:70

Friday Five

One of the web rings this blog is on (RevGalBlogPals) has a "Friday Five," where folks list five of whatever the prompt is. This week, it's to name five things you believe, silly or otherwise. Here is my Friday Five - I'd love to know yours.

1. I am a beloved child of God and so is everyone else.

2. Road trips are a necessary part of life (especially with good friends who get more than a little punchy the longer you're on the road).

3. Poor spelling is a sign of genius.

4. Loving community is the key to happiness.

5. God is love and those who abide in love abide in God and God abides in them.

june

I'm going to Ethiopia in June. I'm going to Ethiopia in June. I'm saying this over and over because it's just now starting to sink in. On June 14, four representatives of Covenant (of which I am one) are flying out to Addis Abbaba and then on to Bedele. That just a little over 2 weeks away. I'm excited, nervous, filled with wonder and hope for what this trip will be. I hope that it will strength the bonds between our churches, that it will make real a place and a people we pray for regularly, that it will inspire our team and fill us with a passion for our ministry together in Christ.

I'll probably be reflecting more on this as the time draws closer. For now, I'm content to keep realizing that yes, I'm going to Ethiopia in June.

L.O.V.E.

Texts:
1 John 4:7-21
John 15:1-8


One of the greatest blessings of my adult life is the relationship I have with my sisters and my brother. We though we all live in different states and don’t get to see each other but a few times a year, we are a great support system for one another. When we do get together, whether we’re on some adventure my mother has planned for us or just sitting around watching a movie, we have a heck of a lot of fun just being together. While we drive each other occasionally crazy, we really enjoy spending time with each other.

Yeah, it wasn’t always that good. Oh boy, it wasn’t. My sisters Neli and Dawn didn’t join the family until a few years ago, so growing up, it was just Beth, Ted, and me. And the three of us – well, we fought – and fought dirty. I won’t bore you with all the details, but we each had our tactics for getting what we wanted (one of Beth’s favorites was being so melodramatic about Ted’s or my “mistreatment” of her that our parents would rush to her defense – oh, she was good!). We each knew which buttons to push on the others and how. We rarely ganged up against each other, only because we were too busy fighting to form any sort of alliance.

My poor parents. It was a rare day that all three of us were getting along. I have no idea how they survived the day to day, let alone listening to us fight on those long family road trips. The folks never forced us to be the best of friends, to have Brady Bunch moments, but they did make us put up with one another. Whenever one of us went too far in our little battles, we got in serious trouble. And whenever one of us was expressing extreme frustration with a sibling, Mom or Dad would help us to see (even if we didn’t want to) where our sibling was coming from, helped us to see the other side. My parents never demanded that we smile and like each other, but they did make sure that under all our bickering, we had respect for each other, that we loved each other.

My folks taught that lesson well. When I was a kid, I would pick on my siblings all I wanted – but if an outsider even cast a disparaging look at them, it was over. That person was in for a severe tongue lashing the likes of which they had probably never seen. Because while Beth and Ted might drive me crazy, they were my sister and brother. I may not like my siblings all that much, but I loved them.

While I know the author of this epistle wasn’t referring to our biological brothers and sisters, it is in part because of this undercurrent of love I had for my sister and brother, even when they drove me up the wall by getting in my stuff, or – horror, of horrors – tagging along, that I can appreciate when the writer of 1 John says: “those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.” If I want to be able to say “I love the Lord!” I have to be able to say, I love the Lord’s people. Because if I truly do love God, God who is love, I will follow God’s commandment for me, I will love my neighbor, my brother, my sister.

It’s not that hard of a commandment to follow. At least when the brother or sister you have to love is one that is just a pest. Loving because God first loved you is easy enough when those you are to love’s greatest flaw is that they are occasionally annoying. You can just roll your eyes at their behavior and think “I love you, I love you, I love you.” But following that commandment isn’t always that easy. When those we are called to love act in ways that make it challenging to understand how they too could be God’s creation, it gets hard. Very hard. I read in the news about people whose actions distort the image of God within them, those who reject others’ and even their own humanity, and wonder: how can I feel towards you any semblance of what I call love?

As hard as it is to follow God’s commandment with people like that, I believe there is even a greater challenge. Greater because it deals with what we face much more regularly. Most of us don’t go to school with or attend community functions with or even sit in the same church pew with mass murderers. We haven’t seen those brothers or sisters. But we have seen and do interact regularly with people who have personally hurt us or frustrated us. We do go to school, to work, and church with those whose beliefs strongly contradict our own. And the challenging questions for us is what do we do when the people we see in our day to day, the people are called to love, are the people who have hurt us with words or actions, people who do disagree with on issues close to our hearts? What do we do when we are supposed to love those who disdain the beliefs and values we hold as the core of who we are?

These are the kinds of questions I would imagine the Johannine community would have had after getting this letter. For the community that was originally told: “Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars” and “those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen” was a community dealing with deep division and suffering the sorrow of schism. This was a community where feelings were hurt, insults hurled, relationships broken because of strongly held and sharply differing beliefs.

Within this Christian community, there was a group that had broken away. This group differed with the Johannine Christians we would see as more orthodox on issues like who Christ was and on the importance of his salvation. While Johannine Christians argued that Christ set a moral standard in the way he walked, the way he lived, this breakway group argued that it was just enough to believe in the Word, what you do isn’t important just as what Christ did wasn’t important. Content to simply believe, they weren’t interested in living as disciples. We don’t know for sure but this group may have been a forerunner for the Gnostic Christians – those who understood this world and the flesh as false, who saw the purpose of life as pursuit of special knowledge from God.

We don’t know exactly how this schism developed. We don’t know who the leaders were, who may have said what about whom. Even though we don’t know the details on this particular division, given the reactions over such similar situations over whole course of our church’s history, it’s probably safe to assume it wasn’t pretty. When there is such passion, it doesn’t take much for disagreements to get personal. And this community isn’t just a bridge club, this community is family. And whatever happened, things got so bad that family split.

In the midst of the most passionate, personal of disagreements, of differences, where things got so bad people just broke off relationships and left, is this letter and its reminder that we are commanded to love our brothers and our sisters, that we are to love because God first loved us.

And so I can only imagine that this community was left with the same question we have – one we have whether faced with someone we vehemently disagree with or someone who has personally hurt us: how do you love?

It’s a good question, a hard question, a question I know I want the answer to. But before we can try to answer that question, there’s this voice inside that reminds me we have to ask another. Before we can talk about how we manage to love those we find it difficult to, we have to ask ourselves what we even mean by love? We talk about loving our brothers and sisters, struggle sometimes with that love, but what exactly are we talking about, struggling with? What is love?

Now that’s an even bigger question. There was a whole course at my college dedicated to that question. Now, trying to understand love for us today, I didn’t run out and take a college course on love, but I have been doing some research. Look love up in the dictionary and you get several, interesting answers. The most appropriate one I found was “unselfish concern and benevolent concern for the good of another.” That sounds good. In fact, it sounds quite similar to a definition for agape, the Greek word for love which used in this passage, which is often translated as something like unconditional, self-sacrificing love. That sounds pretty Christian, like something the writer of this epistle would be in favor of. We should all be able to get on board with that. And yet, I am not completely satisfied with that definition for love because but while interacting with our brothers and sisters in unselfish concern may sound like a beautiful thing, I think it can – on occasion - be problematic. As people who have found themselves in abusive relationships of one kind or another might tell you, sometimes you need to be a little more selfish and a little less self-sacrificing in your concern of certain others. Our understanding of love – if we are to love all our brothers and sisters, has to be broader than even our definition for agape love.

So along with looking up various definitions of love, I’ve been immersing myself in a little bit of pop culture. Even though we’re well past Valentine’s Day, love is at the forefront of much of our culture. So I’ve been beeping my eyes and ears open for any definitions or descriptions that seem to just fit. I’ve heard some good ones (according to my yoga tape love is what’s left when we let go of everything we don’t need) and some pretty ridiculous ones: (love is like pizza, when it’s good it’s really good, when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good). The best descriptions and definitions, though, seem to come from music, not surprising when you think that most songs on the radio seem to be about falling in or out of love. I’ll give you a few of my favorites
:
Love is more than just a game for two.
Love is a battlefield.
Love is the groove in which we move.
Love is real, real is love.
Love is just a fancy word for compromise.
Love is a piano dropped from a four story window.
Love is just like breathing when it’s true.
Love is but a song we sing.
Love is sacrifice.
Love is all there is, it makes the world go round.
Love is like sweet dark chocolate.
Love is not some victory march, it’s a cold and broken Hallelujah.
Love is the saddest thing when it goes away.
Love is seldom what it seems.
Love is blindness.
Love is a temple – love a higher law.
Love is bigger, is bigger than us.

Now these are great lyrics, good definitions, and I don’t much disagree with anything they say about love, but still, none quite encompass all we need love to be if we are to love all. So where do we find our definition of love? Where do we find the answer to our question of how to love?

Well, as John Calvin said “the word of the Lord is the sole way that can lead us in our search.” In other words, in my search for understanding what love is, I never should have left the text. And what does the text say about love? “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent the only Son into the world so that we might live through him.” Our love, which comes from God is known in the Son. It was right that no one definition or expression of love, or even a combination of several, could completely satisfy me. For when we are searching for what it is to love as God commands us, we are not searching for a perfect definition, we aren’t searching for the best understanding, we are searching for God who is love. We are searching for the one who came as proof of love, as love living. For whether the person we are to love us one that just annoys us, one that has hurt us, or even one that we struggle to see as human, we can find what that love is within Christ and we can find the strength to love in Christ.

And Christ’s love is not a fixed definition. Christ’s love is not a static love, is not an immovable, unchanging love. Christ loved in different ways because he loved different people, he loved all people. He loved those who were his disciples, his friends; loved those whom he healed, he taught; he loved those that argued with him; he loved those who were threatened by him and threatened him. He loved all. And in his love, he would offer kindness and compassion; in his love, he would challenge the ways people thought and acted; in his love, he would be disappointed and even angry. In his love, whether it was gentle or “tough,” Christ moved people toward becoming the whole souls – what he called fruit bearing branches - God longed for them to be.

This love, Christ’s love, is the one we are to have. A love that may take on as many different definitions and forms as there are love songs. We are called to love our brothers and sisters but we are not called to love them all in the exact same ways. The love we offer is a love that – as did Christ’s – moves people toward being whole, love that will help them bear much fruit.

Knowing that the love we are offer is Christ’s love, we can too know and believe how it is we do love. For Christ tells us that “those who abide in me and I in them will bear much fruit, because apart from you can do nothing.” We can bear much fruit, can be true disciples and lovers of the Lord, because we abide in Christ. We can and do love knowing because we are not alone in our love. When we love, truly love, we draw on the strength of God, the wisdom of God, the courage of God. God commands us to love but does not leave us alone as we strive to do so. We can love and do love only because God first loved us and because God lives in us as we love each other. For God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God and God abides in them.

Love truly is bigger, bigger than us and for that we can all be thankful. Amen.

a dialogue of interest

A friend of mine recently directed me to a transcript of a talk that Tony and Peggy Campolo gave at North Point Chapel about ten years ago. Though an old speech/conversation, I found it remarkably poignant. Entitled "Is the Homosexual My Neighbor?" this transcript sees both Tony and Peggy make different cases on the issue of same-gendered relationships but offer a similar - and compelling - articulation of how the church is called to serve our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters.

As our church faces such similar questions and issuez - particularly at General Assembly this June - I think it is most critical that no matter what we believe on particular issues we do not let people become just an "issue." I become deeply troubled when I hear the various camps dehumanize those with whom they disagree. I'm currently working on a sermon for this Sunday based on a text that say, among other things, that if we say we love God but do not love our brothers and sisters, we are liars. Our call is to minister in love to all and when we do not - when we let our differences, however deeply seeded, divide us and keep us from our ministry of love - we are not loving God.

This transcript offers a wonderful call to ministry of love that can affect those with varying opinions about homosexuality. I invite you to read it and let it reside with you for awhile, to wonder if any of Tony or Peggy's statements ring especially true for you, if any cut you to the quick. Think about what ways our church - both Covenant and the greater church - can be a place of love where those who have felt that the church (or church people) despised them - and this goes beyond gays and lesbians. Think about these things - and then act, in small moments, in larger ways, act. The church will only become a truly loving community - Christ's community - when its people move past fears, prejudices, or whatever holds us back and strive to love.

Cravings

I've recently taken up walking in the park (almost) daily. It's good to get some exercise but I really love the chance to people watch, listen to music, and/or spend time with God that walking for an hour or so gives me. I've been so good at keeping up with this practice that my body starts to crave it during midday. My muscles get excited - "come on, Amy, use us!" - and I just can't wait for my walk. When days are too busy (like today, for example) and I really can't fit a walk in, it's tough. While my brain may be fully committed to whatever I'm doing, the rest of my body is trying to get me outdoors and moving. It's kinda nice to know that the time I spend walking has become so integral to my day that I'm experiencing withdrawls! A good reminder that taking time for yourself is a necessary thing indeed.