12/24/2010 ~ The Eve of the Nativity of the Messiah, the Christ, the Feast of the Incarnation ~ God with Us

12/24/2010 ~ The Eve of the Nativity of the Messiah, the Christ, the Feast of the Incarnation ~ Proper 1 ~ Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14 ; Luke 2:1-14, (15-20)

God with Us

“For a child is born to us, / an heir given to us; / authority, dominion rests upon the shoulders / of this One, who is named: / Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, / Everlasting Sovereign, Source of Peace.” — Isaiah 9:6.


He had been awake for some time now. The noise those hooligan shepherds made as they ran, stumbled helter-skelter down the main street of the town, shouting, singing, making odd, loud noises— this commotion had roused him from slumber.

Were they drunk? It seemed likely. After all, they were shepherds.

He did not want to count sheep in an effort to become reacquainted with the bed. It only reminded him of that despicable crew who tended sheep. Incantations to Morpheus, the Roman god of sleep, did not seem to help find the rest he craved, either. Finally, he gave up, stood, dressed, built a fire, heated some water. (Slight pause.)

His name was Yoseph Ben Mattithyahu— Joseph, son of Matthias. But he had taken the name Titus Flavius Josephus. [1] It sounded more... Roman. In this society, dominated as it was by Rome, it helped to fit in.

To say Titus was an ambitious young fellow would have been an understatement. He constantly made efforts to place himself among the powerful in hope of being noticed. He had already visited big, important towns in this quest for power. He had been to Jerusalem and had seen the court, the Sanhedrin, had spoken with the High Priests.

He had been to Damascus, where Quirinius, governor of Syria, ruled with an iron fist. He had been to Caesarea, the city Herod, the Jewish King appointed by the Romans, had built. Herod, Caesar’s local puppet, to prove loyalty, had named that seaport in honor of Augustus.

And, yes, Titus wanted to see Rome, wanted see the Emperor. It was said, after all, that Augustus was... a God. Indeed, the Romans, insisting Caesar was divine, had given Augustus a title— “Prince of Peace.” (Slight pause.)

Despite being ambitious, despite seeking power, here he was, stuck in this backwater town called... Bethlehem. Two minutes after he arrived as the local representative of the King Herod’s government, he regretted it.

Those who lived here insisted this was the City of David. While he knew a prophet had called it that, he often wondered how the greatest ruler Israel ever saw could possibly have come from this place. Bethlehem— there was poverty. There were peasants. There was little else.

And yet... and yet... this town which claimed in its heritage the great monarch had been mentioned by a prophet, had it not? What did that prophet say? (Slight pause.)

He could not remember. He was more concerned with being a good Roman citizen than with being a Jew. (Slight pause.)

Titus heard a noise. He opened the door and looked down the road. Here they were again— those shepherds— and they seemed to be no less quiet then they were the first time through town. He decided to confront them.

These shepherds might be hooligans, but they dare not cross him or there would be consequences. He was, after all, Herod’s representative.

There were four of them. He was alone. Displaying more belligerence than reason, he stood in the middle of the street and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Stop!” (Slight pause.)

Much to his surprise, they did. That left him dumbfounded. He did not quite know what to do.

One of the shepherds, short and rotund, approached him. “Have you heard?”

“Heard?” asked Titus.

The four were suddenly standing all around him. He began to think confrontation was a bad idea. But they made no aggressive moves. Instead they all started to speak at once.

“A child has been born.”

“Angels were singing.”

“God visited us, invited us.”

“An heir to David.”

“Messiah.”

“Covenant”

“Sovereign.

“Peace.”

“Inn.”

“Stable.”

“Manger.”

“God.”

“Baby.”

Suddenly the four of them ran off, headed toward the end of town where they would find their sheep still grazing in hill country beyond. (Slight pause.) Titus was left standing alone, confused, dazed, not quite able to understand what was going on.

“David... Messiah... covenant... sovereign... peace... inn... stable... manger... God... baby;” what did it all mean? He wandered in the direction from which the shepherds had come. He did not know what to look for or what he was looking for. He did know he needed to look.

Titus turned the corner around a building and there before him there was a stable and a man and a woman sitting by a fire. He approached. As he did so, he saw the woman held a child, clearly a newborn.

He walked right up to her. The child was asleep. She nodded and smiled with her eyes. He nodded and smiled back. She held the baby up to him. His reaction was natural. He took the child in his arms. (Slight pause.)

He suddenly felt a warmth he had never experienced before. He wondered what was going on. It was as if a comforting cloak of rich cloth had descended on his shoulders.

Titus looked down at the tiny head, the little dark curls. The child opened its eyes. He looked into those eyes and the child looked back.

One phrase was running through his head. “God with us.” No matter how he tried, he could not think of anything else. “God with us.”

What did this mean? Once again, he was confused, dazed, not quite able to understand what was going on. He sensed this had something to do with power, not the temporal power he craved, but the power of God. (Slight pause.)

“God with us.” (Slight pause.) Was it God who had real authority? If so, what did that have to do with this helpless baby? (Slight pause.)

Titus handed the child back to the woman and walked away. He could not figure out what all this meant. Perhaps he would go to the synagogue tomorrow and speak with the Rabbi. He sensed he needed to know more about God and wondered why this was so.

But, having held the child, he somehow knew God had been present in that moment. He somehow knew it was the dominion of God which matters most, knew God is the only sovereign, knew God is the real source of... peace... knew that God is with us. (Slight pause.)

It would be years before Titus recognized the moment he knew all this was exactly when he looked into the eyes of the child. Amen.

12/24/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Choral Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “I have often said Christmas is the most important Christian feast on the secular calendar. At the very least for Easter, Pentecost, the Epiphany and Trinity Sunday should be counted as more important than Christmas. In an effort to reclaim real Christmas, let me make a suggestion, one I make each year. Please do not wish people a ‘Merry Christmas.’ When you greet someone say ‘Happy Christmas.’ People can be merry about the new year, but let’s be happy about what we celebrate tonight: the birth of the Messiah, present in our midst.”

[1] Students of history will notice I’ve appropriated the name Yoseph Ben Mattithyahu (Joseph son of Matthias) who used the Roman name Titus Flavius Josephus. Known by Josephus, he was the 1st century Romano-Jewish historian who recorded Jewish history, such as the First Jewish–Roman War, a war which resulted in the Destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. He has been credited by many as recording some of the earliest history of Jesus, the Christ, outside of the gospels. My unwritten, unspoken conceit is that this Josephus could have been the grandfather of the historian.

LETTER TO THE CHURCH - DECEMBER NEWSLETTER

Dear Friends in Christ,

“If you build it, they will come.” Is that true? A friend who heads up a non-profit agency recently insisted to me this is no longer true. “Today,” he said, “you might build it, but they will not come simply because it’s there or because you or your ancestors put it up. If you want them to come, you’ve got to go out there, go into the streets and drag them in. Just building it is no longer enough.”

Throughout American history Christian churches have been afforded an extraordinary level acceptance. It felt like, if we built it, people came. But this was not only or simply acceptance. Despite the “melting pot” label our nation has, it is clear that Christianity had a central place in society. It can be safely said the secular culture in which we lived gave people messages about the traditions, the symbols and even the rituals of the Christian faith.

Hence, it is also argued, historically churches had to do very little when it came to delivering their message. People understood church before they entered our doors because society was largely a place where Christian traditions, Christian symbols and Christian rituals were “normal.” After all, Christmas is a Federal holiday. Why isn’t Hanukkah, a Jewish winter feast, a Federal holiday, just like Christmas? Because many Christian practices were simply adopted by secular society.

It can also be argued that another reality is with us today. The importance and influence of Christianity in our society has been in decline for at least four decades. Indeed, we live in what many now call a “post-Christian” world, a world in which the Christian church cannot expect favorable treatment or high visibility simply by dint of its existence. To be clear: Christian traditions, symbols and rituals still hold sway much of the time. But that influence is diminishing by measurable amounts.

How measurable is it? I have written in this space before about one of those measurements: the group in society sociologists currently call “nones.” Loosely, these are people who insist they have no religions affiliation. But it also needs to be noted that many of the people who fall into this group also insist they are “spiritual.” Therefore, this group is made up of people who simply refuse to be connected with either a church or even any religious tradition.

In a little more than a decade “nones” have gone from... and this figure varies from survey to survey and depends on who and how you count, but it is a fairly accurate estimate... in a little more than a decade “nones” have gone from about 3% of the population to as much as 19% of the population. This growth is largely being fueled by what many call “young people,” those who had their 18th birthday starting in 1988. So, the oldest member of this group is now about 40.

Since “nones” consider themselves “spiritual” but have, up until now, not associated themselves with a church or a tradition, I cannot classify them with what I view as the very old fashioned term “unchurched.” These are folks are simply not affiliated with a church. I look at that as a big difference, since I think the implication of “unchurched” is “unknowing about religion.” “Nones” know a lot about religion.

Here is another observation many people think of as accurate: people look back at the 1950s, when Christianity did have a more central place in society and as a time when the culture did, indeed, carry the traditions, the symbols and even the rituals of the Christian faith. And many take that era as a kind of “golden age” for the church. Certainly many churches had larger congregations.

But what got those people into the church? A Gallup Poll done in the mid-50s asked this question of church goers: ‘were you invited to church by a relative or a friend or a neighbor?’ 62% of those who responded (62% in the 1950s!) said they were invited by a relative or a friend or a neighbor.

All of which brings me back to what my friend said: “Today you might build it, but they will not come simply because it’s there or because you or your ancestors put it up. If you want them to come, you’ve got to go out there, go into the streets and drag them in. Just building it is no longer enough.”

Based on the statistic that 62% of the people attending church in the 1950s were invited by a relative or a friend or a neighbor, it is clear the same thing was true in the 1950s! People did not just show up at church. They were invited!

If you look at our church calender for November and December, you will see there are many special things going on in this church over the course of the Advent and Christmas Seasons. (In fact, we are always doing special things.) But these Advent and Christmas things done in churches still do speak to the secular society precisely because secular society has adopted them. So, these are also things to which it might be appropriate for you to invite a relative or a friend or a neighbor. Is someone “from away” visiting? Bring them to church.

It worked in the 1950s. Who knows? It might work now, in the early part of the 21st Century, especially since there seems to be such a large potential constituency among those people who are 40 and under and who call themselves “spiritual” and are, therefore, interested.

What can I say? See you in church?

In Faith,
Joe Connolly

P.S. Bonnie and I wish everyone a joyous, peaceful Christmas filled with love and hope as we remember the birth of the Messiah.

Sermon ~ 12/05/2010 ~ Joy and Peace and Believing in the Wilderness

12/05/2010 ~ Second Sunday of Advent ~ The Sunday in Advent on Which We Commemorate Peace ~ Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12 ~ Note: Used Isaiah 40 to reflect the Anthem ~ Sing Out and Celebrate Sunday.

Joy and Peace and Believing in the Wilderness

“May the God of hope fill you with such joy and peace in believing, in your faith, that you may abound with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” — Romans 15:13


My late cousin was a fine Irish Catholic woman. Her name was Roseanna Genevieve McCool.

She was, technically, of my grandfather’s generation, despite being closer to my father in age. As a consequence, in terms of my family structure and how it operated, she was much more a matriarch or a grandmother figure than a cousin.

Rose— she was commonly called Rose— was the daughter of Irish immigrants and was born in 1911. She grew up on South Third Street in Brooklyn, just two blocks from the waterfront on the East River. This is the Williamsburg section of the borough but on the northern end, close to Greenpoint, a German neighborhood in that era.

By the time I was a young boy, Rose and the rest of the clan had moved a further inland, to Bushwick— still in Brooklyn— then later again to Queens. The parish to which Rose belonged in those early years, also on South Third Street, was the Church of Saints Peter and Paul. The parish still exists.

I have distinct, I might even label them as fond memories, of Rose telling me about her childhood, telling me how her father owned a couple of horses and a wagon and moved freight for local stores. She told me about a time she was frightened silly by a run-away horse. From that point on, despite her father’s work and much to his embarrassment, she was afraid of horses.

Among those memories that she offered were ones of life at that parish church. Her mother, to make extra money, took in laundry and also did the laundry for the priests at the church. So Rose probably was privy to a lot of scuttlebutt.

Now, of course, by the time I came on the scene and Rose was telling me these recollections of her childhood, things at the church in Williamsburg were not in good shape as far as she was concerned. And, believe me, she had been back to the church and had seen it. She knew all about the changes.

They had changed the inside of the church building around. How dare they? They had taken out some of the stained glass windows. How dare they? And they were using unfamiliar music. How dare they?

Indeed, they were using the whole facility, including the church hall and grammar school, in ways which were different than when she was a child. How dare they?

Besides, both the church and the neighborhood had been overrun by immigrants— twice! The first wave was simply terrible. [Soto voce.]: (They were Italians.) Then— and this refers to that depressing period known as the 1970s— Hispanics moved in. (Slight pause.)

All this change upset her deeply. What was her angst about? In many ways her key and only question was: ‘why could it not be like it was when I was a child?’ (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the work known as Romans: “May the God of hope fill you with such joy and peace in believing, in your faith, that you may abound with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Slight pause.)

Perhaps what got me thinking about Rose and her feeling devastated by changes at her childhood church was a statistic I came across last week. Now, please remember, Rose was born of English speaking immigrant parents in 1911. And the late 19th and early 20th Century was an intense period of immigration in this country.

Also, while in that era the prayers of Mass in the Roman Church were recited in Latin, aside from those prayers, whole sections of the service were conducted in the vernacular of those who attended. The statistic I found was this: according to the United States Census Bureau in 1906 there were 4,711 Catholic Parishes in America with 6.3 million people where the parts of the Mass not in Latin were spoken in the vernacular.

The vernacular was— take your choice depending on the parish— Polish or Lithuanian or German or Italian, etc., etc., etc. By 1916 the number had grown to 6,076 parishes. In short, in 57% of churches, or way more than half of all the Catholic parishes in America, a language other than English was the dominant tongue. [1]

These immigrants had left their native land, left their roots. It’s likely they felt as if they were in a desert, in the wilderness. So they sought to find some assurance in familiar things— in this case a church where their native language was spoken. (Slight pause.)

I tend to pay attention to news out of New York City. The Williamsburg section of Brooklyn is now becoming gentrified, upscale. Indeed, if you log on to the web site of the Parish of Saints Peter and Paul, they no longer have masses just in Spanish, as it was back in the 1970s. Serving the mix in a changing neighborhood, they have gone from having masses only in Spanish to having masses in both English and Spanish. (Slight pause.)

There are many reasons to feel disconnected. Certainly one is being disconnected from a heritage. Most often that disconnect is imposed on us by change or by migration or by captivity.

It is easy to see how disconnected the Jews might have felt when the Prophet Isaiah writes, since the Jews are held captive in Babylon. They feel as if they are in a desert, in the wilderness.

It is, perhaps, not as easy for us to understand that there is a disconnect for Paul. But that’s because we tend to view the era in which Paul lived as a time when somehow, magically the entire Mediterranean Basin converted to Christianity.

In fact, most historians believe by the year 100 of the Common Era, some thirty-five years after Paul died, there are still less than 10,000 Christians in the world. Historians also say that in the year 315, when Christianity becomes the official religion of the Roman Empire, less than 10% of the population of the Roman Empire is Christian.

Paul, in fact, faces a reality: this is a small group and it will not get much bigger in the near term. Still, despite a small size and slow growth, the Apostle writes about... hope and joy and peace and believing and the Holy Spirit. You see, neither Second Isaiah nor Paul is self delusional. They both know a thing or two about the wilderness, the desert. (Slight pause.)

So, what about us? What do we, who live in a culture which gives an appearance of being a Christian culture, know about the wilderness, the desert?

Indeed, we are in the Season of Advent, presumably a season of waiting to celebrate the birth of the Messiah. But what does our culture known about waiting? The day after Halloween, I saw a Christmas Tree set up in a retail outlet. (Slight pause.)

I think the Season of Advent, this season of waiting, captures the so called ‘Spirit of Christmas’ better than the celebrations of the dominant culture. How so? (Slight pause.) After all, we know the Messiah has come, don’t we? ‘Joy to the world’ and all that stuff— right?

But what message did the Messiah bring? (Slight pause.) The message the Messiah brings is that the Dominion of God is at hand, the Dominion of God is near.

So, if we are not self delusional, we should readily understand that we are in the wilderness, in the desert, right now. How? Why?

We are in the wilderness not because of changes to church buildings or the taking out of stained glass windows or the use unfamiliar music. These may be things about which we are nostalgic but these are all quite temporary.

You see, the promise of the Dominion says we will live in a world where the hungry are fed always, the homeless find shelter always, the sick have access to healthcare always. And the Dominion of God being near is a real world promise toward which we are invited, by God, to work.

The Dominion of God, you see, is a promise. It is forwarding looking, filled with anticipation. Put differently, the Dominion of God is not about nostalgia.

And nostalgia is a hard nut to crack. After all, I hear the new Yankee Stadium is better than the old one and I know Shea Stadium was a pit. But Babe Ruth will never swing a bat in the new park and The Beatles will never rock Citi Field.

As a congregation, I know we strive to head in the direction of the Dominion, toward the Dominion. After all, we did coordinate the Thanksgiving Turkey Basket Drive which distributed 483 baskets with 205 going out our door.

So, I think we do know about joy and peace and believing in the wilderness— and joy and peace and believing in the wilderness does have to do with this Season of Advent. But it has to do with nothing temporary, nothing about which we might become nostalgic. It has to do with the Dominion of God— the Dominion of God, where joy and peace and hope and love are both eternal and fulfilled. And that’s the place toward which we are working. Amen.

United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “Composer Ned Rorem said, ‘Music is the sole art which evokes nostalgia for the future.’ I agree but I might add that Scripture also evokes nostalgia for the future.”

BLESSING: Let us be present to one another as we go from this place. Let us share our gifts, our hopes, our memories, our pain and our joy. Go in peace for God is with us. Go in joy for God knows every fiber of our being. Go in hope for God reveals to us, daily, that we are a part of God’s new creation. Go in love, for we rest assured, by Christ, Jesus, that God is steadfast. And may the peace of God which surpasses understanding be with us this day and forevermore. Amen.

[1] Page 297, American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us; by Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell; Simon and Schuster; New York 2010.

11/28/2010 ~ The End Game?

11/28/2010 ~ The First Sunday of Year ‘A’ of the Three Year Cycle of Lectionary Readings ~ First Sunday of Advent, the Sunday We Commemorate Hope ~ Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44.

The End Game?

“...you know what time it is, the time in which we are living. It is now the moment, the time, the hour for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer, closer to us now than when we became believers, than when we first accepted faith. The night is far spent, gone; the day draws near. Let us, then, lay aside the works of the night and put on the armor of light.” — Romans 13:11-12.


Many of you know about my strange, personal journey in the world of higher education, but for those of you who don’t, let me briefly mention it. The first time I went to college, I dropped out after one semester.

Only later in life did I returned to the classroom for my Bachelor’s and Master’s Degrees, required for ordination in the United Church of Christ. Since I was living with my parents when I dropped out of college, my late mother, practical woman that she was, said I needed to find a job.

I asked where she thought I might look. She remembered her first job was in a department store— Wanamaker’s. But by the time I dropped out of college Wanamaker’s had closed its New York City outlet.

Since my mother was working on the Upper East Side of Manhattan at that time, she suggested I get on the Subway with her, get off at 59th Street and Lexington and apply for a job at Bloomingdale’s. In fact, this was sound advice. Department stores, statistically, have a fairly significant turn over rate among employees. Hence, they are open to hiring people.

I did what my mother suggested— got on the Subway with her and got off at Bloomingdale’s. And they even interviewed me right on the spot.

With the interview completed and feeling very self confident about how I had presented myself, and feeling very positive that they would hire me and perhaps also feeling more than a bit cocky and self satisfied, I did not go anyplace else to apply for work that day. I simply got back on the Subway and went home.

That evening, when my mother got home, she asked how it went. I said it seemed to go well. She asked where I had applied for work after I left Bloomingdale’s. I admitted that I just came home.

She expressed her anger with me in no uncertain terms. She said I could expect to visit the personnel department at Macy’s the next day. And that I would continue to visit personnel departments day after day, even if it was only one store at a time, until I ran out of department stores to which I might apply in New York City. (Slight pause.)

Later, as the family sat around the dinning room table having dinner, the phone rang. I was closest to it, so I jumped up and answered. The call was from the personal department at Bloomingdale’s. They said they had a job they’d like me to do and asked if would I report for orientation the next morning. (Slight pause.)

Since the phone was near the dinning room table, what was said in that conversation and what had transpired as a result of that interview was totally obvious to everyone sitting there. Still, with some glee, I reported the entire exchange nearly verbatim without a pretense that anyone sitting at the table had heard what was said, even though I was standing several feet away.

I might add that, in the telling of this story, I also did not exhibit any pretense that I had an ounce of humility. Frankly, I sounded more than a little smug. (Slight pause.)

Well, if my mother had been angry with me before, she was really angry with me now. But what could she say or do? After all, not only did I get a job, I got it in one try. (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the work known as Romans: “...you know what time it is, the time in which we are living. It is now the moment, the time, the hour for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer, closer to us now than when we became believers, than when we first accepted faith. The night is far spent, gone; the day draws near. Let us, then, lay aside the works of the night and put on the armor of light.” (Pause.)

Perhaps you realize the words of this passage could be construed to mean the end times are at hand, the world is coming to an end. But, rumor to the contrary, these words are not about The Apocalypse. This is an exhortation about hope. But that leaves an important question open. ‘What is hope?’ (Slight pause.)

In fact, the story I told moments ago about getting my first job might be taken by some to be a story about unbridled hope or at least as a story about the unbridled hope of youth. After all, why else would I have felt so good about the interview?

But the idea that my job hunting story is about unbridled hope of any kind is simply not true. Most assuredly, it is a story about unbridled egocentricity and perhaps also a story about sheer stupidity exhibited by someone still in the teen years... and that someone happened to be me.

In fact, anyone who takes this passage from Romans or any passage which refers to the end times to mean The Apocalypse is imminent, is engaged in a massive case of egocentricity. The implication of insisting the writings of Scripture confirm the end time is around the corner is to believe that all the people who have ever lived before us must not be as important as we are, right now. That kind of stand insists there is some strange self privilege in witnessing the end times and illustrates an egocentricity which loses track of reality.

One thing people often forget about hope is that hope never loses its grasp on reality. Indeed, many hear the term ‘hope’ and confuse it with wishing. Take my word for it: wishing for something instead of working for something has nothing to do with hope. Hope both challenges reality and faces reality head on.

What’s my proof of that? The American abolitionist movement which culminated in the freedom of American slaves. Women receiving the right to vote here. That only took another fifty-five years after the slaves were freed. The work of Desmond Tutu and Nelson Mandela in overcoming apartheid in South Africa.

The list where a vision of hope triumphed goes on and on and on. All these people and movements understood reality. Because they understood reality they could envision that for which they hoped. (Slight pause.)

There is another issue to tackle here. I am quite sure some would read the list of sins in this passage: reveling, licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy, etc. and decide this is a list of “thou shalt nots.”

Once again, hope understands not just reality but human reality. We are frail and we are not perfect. Further, it’s likely people pay way too much attention to the reveling and licentiousness named here and not enough attention to the quarreling and jealously aspect.

If you want to place a face on imperfection and, indeed, on egocentricity, start with quarreling and jealously. Hope, you see, embraces, encompasses, recognizes humility. (Slight pause.)

Well, for a moment, lets talk about what it might mean that, in light of hope, (quote): “...salvation is nearer, closer to us now than when we became believers...” (unquote). [Slight pause.] We have entered the season of Advent proclaiming hope. Why? (Slight pause.)

Yes, Jesus is the light of the world. But is that simply a ‘feel good’ phrase? Banish the night. Come to the light. Everything’s all right. Or is there more to it than that? (Slight pause.)

Let me suggest that, in this season of Advent, we should recognize that Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ. But in so doing we also need to place ourselves in Roman Palestine some two thousand years ago. We need to realize that, before the coming of Jesus, the Messiah, the Christ, no one alive back then could foresee the way God would break into the world and change— change— the way we understood God and the relationship God has with humanity.

We need to realize that with the coming of Jesus, the Messiah, the Christ, God fulfilled all the promises God had made about covenant, promises about eternal life with God, promises about hope for the world in a way humans had never before imagined. And that, my friends, is the kind of hope Paul addresses here. The kind which says God imagines freedom, imagines life, imagines goodness in ways we never thought about before, in ways we never thought possible before, and, indeed, in ways that face reality.

And yes, God imagines us in the joy of covenant, in peace which surpasses understanding, in relationship that defines love. In the tender, loving, surprising ways, ways beyond our imagining, God provides and we, thereby, can see and envision the fulness of hope. Amen.

11/28/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, NY

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “Biblical Scholar Walter Brueggemann said this: “What a stunning vocation for the church— to stand free and hope-filled in a world gone fearful— and to think, imagine, dream, vision a future that God will yet enact.” I want to suggest to you that the vocation, the work of the church, is hope.”

BLESSING: Let us know and understand that our hope is in God. May we carry the peace of God where ever we go. Let us share that peace and that hope, which is God’s, with all whom we meet. For God reigns and the joy of God’s love is a present reality. Amen.

Sermon ~ 11/21/2010 ~ Righteousness

11/21/2010 ~ Proper 29 ~ 34th and Last Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Sixth (and this year the Last) Sunday after Pentecost ~ A.K.A. The Reign of Christ ~ Jeremiah 23:1-6; Luke 1:68-79; Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 46; Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43.

Righteousness

“In those days, Judah will be saved, / and Israel will dwell securely, will live in safety. / This is the Name by which they will call: / “Yahweh, God— Yahweh, God is our right relationship, our justice.’” — Jeremiah 23:6


Act II, Scene 7 of As You Like It, in that place, William Shakespeare says this (quote): “All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players: / They have their exits and their entrances; / And one..., in time..., plays many parts,....” (Slight pause.)

The sentiment that the world is a stage and we are actors was not new when Shakespeare wrote that. In fact, Shakespeare had recycled the thought.

The motto embossed on the front The Globe, Shakespeare’s own theater said “Totus mundus agit historionem”— all the world plays the actor. And the saying (quote): “almost the whole world are actors” is attributed to Petronius, a courtier during the reign of Nero— goes back a bit doesn’t it?

I think the basic reason Shakespeare’s words have become a part of our language is, without even thinking about it, we acknowledge their truth. We are all, at times and in some form, actors. We play different parts at specific times, play various roles depending on the situation.

Here’s an example of situational acting: after Bonnie and I met, she would come to visit me in New York City— down from Maine. The first time we got into a cab together she noticed right away that the manner in which I spoke somehow magically changed. I immediately took on a very “New York-ie” accent. She had never heard me speak that way before.

But, really, how else are you supposed to communicate with a New York City cabbie? An old fashioned New York City accent alone conveys that there had better be no going up the FDR Drive and over to Astoria, when you need to go across the Queensboro Bridge to Long Island City. Situational acting— like feigning an accent when you need to— really is a part of life.

It happens every day. My bet is every day tellers at NBT and cashiers at Walmart greet people with a smile and a big “hello” even though they had a spat with their spouse the previous night.

And, if they did, indeed, have that spat, it’s much more likely they’re thinking about what they did or did not say to their loved one than thinking about the job. On those occasions their primary job becomes not letting the customer know what they are really thinking. And every day people can and do suddenly become irate customers just to get attention when it’s necessary.

If truth be told, sometimes we find ourselves acting just get through difficult times, times when we can scarcely hold it together. There are arguments with a spouse or those times when someone— a friend or a child— has broken our heart.

There are those times when an aging parent is difficult, perhaps because they are dealing with a body that does not seem to be responding the way they way they think it ought to respond. There are those times when a daughter or a son is sick and relies on a parent for help and healing or has lost a job and does not know what happened to them or what to do next. And we feel devastated but we know showing that emotion is the last thing we should do.

Sometimes it is just a matter of “All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players...” Yes, sometimes, we block out the world, block out a part of reality, we refuse to shut down and we simply... act. (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the work known as the Scroll of the Prophet Jeremiah: “In those days, Judah will be saved, / and Israel will dwell securely, will live in safety. / This is the Name by which they will call: / “Yahweh, God— Yahweh, God is our right relationship, our justice.’” (Slight pause.)

When you leave the nave this morning, do head over to the Founder’s Room for coffee hour where the Lutherans will be helping out, raising funds for Hospice. [1] There you will see some of the makings of the Thanksgiving Turkey Basket Drive. [2] There you will see boxes of vegetables. You will see empty boxes waiting to be filled.

On Monday and Tuesday, slowly, it will all come together. Tables will get set up. Boxes will be filled with vegetables and stuffing and recipes. Labels will be applied to the boxes. Turkeys and rolls will arrive and be added. Volunteers from this congregation and volunteers from outside the congregation will help. (If you still want to volunteer, see Linda Oehme.)

When Tuesday afternoon arrives, people will come to get the baskets. And, something I didn’t mention earlier, the Department of Health will have a free flu clinic set up in the Mayflower Room. (Slight pause.)

Life, you see, does happen. People do live through hard times. In these last couple years, especially, life has taken a toll. One out of eight Americans now lives below the poverty level. And many others, while not below that level, live from paycheck to paycheck.

And so, what do we do? What are we to do? What should we do? We try to help. (Slight pause.) I have been watching people pick up baskets for lo, these 14 years I’ve been here. And someone comes to pick one up and they smile and say “hello.” And one of our volunteers will smile back and be helpful. And none of that is an act. It’s real. It’s genuine.

And it’s got to be hard. And they are grateful. And their gratefulness is not an act. It is real. It is genuine. And our volunteers are helpful. It is not an act. It is real. It is genuine. (Slight pause.)

Throughout all Scripture one reality is overwhelming. God is a God who strives to be in relationship with us. Often the way we explain that is we say, “God loves us.” But, in some ways, that limits the description of the relationship for which God hopes.

The reading from Jeremiah expresses the relationship with what I believe to be some accuracy. This relationship is a “right” relationship. It is a relationship that requires no acting. It is a real relationship, an honest relationship.

But there is even more to it. Being a “right” relationship, it is a relationship which invites us to justice. This is not the justice of the state. This is not individual justice. This is justice as it is seen by God, justice which asks “what is right for everyone?”

This is a mode of justice where all the children of God are not hungry. This is the kind of justice where all the children of God do not go homeless. This is a method of justice where all the children of God are afforded both necessary and preventive healthcare. These are the kinds of right relationships which are within the realm of justice as seen by God— relationships of equity. (Slight pause.)

I have good news and bad news. The good news is this: our goal, as the people of God, is to strive to fulfill the realm of right relationship to which we are invited by God. And what we do together this week works toward that goal.

The bad news is we humans are not perfect. As many as we help, there are more who will fall through the cracks— for whom equity is unavailable. So, we are invited to remain constantly vigilant and strive toward the justice God seeks. (Slight pause.)

In the thought for meditation today, I used a quote from Episcopal theologian and a member of the laity, Diana Butler Bass. (Quote): “Do the creeds use ‘credo’ or ‘opinor’?” she asks. “‘Credo’... means ‘I give my heart to,’ or ‘I treasure,’ or ‘My loyalty belongs to.’ Credo holds within it a relational, experiential dimension.”

So, when we in Christianity say, “I believe,” this is not mean to be a set of propositions defining God. “I believe” is meant to express what we feel about God. “I believe” is meant to express our relationship with God.

So, God invites us to a right relationship with God and a right relationship with one another. And in those relationships we are invited to trusting, peaceful, joyous, hope filled relationships. Real— no acting involved. Amen.

11/21/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “No, we did not choose that closing hymn because we knew Lutherans were going to be with us today. Choosing that hymn was done months ago before we ever knew that was going to be true. And, yes, we constantly use metaphors to describe God, such as ‘a mighty fortress is our God.’ But we do also need to get beyond metaphors, even beyond language. Indeed, sometimes language becomes a way to separate us from how we are to one another and how we are to love God. Perhaps that believing with our heart stuff requires more than language. Perhaps believing with our hearts requires action.”

BENEDICTION
Let us walk in the light God provides. Let us thank God for reaching out to us in love. Let us be daily recreated in the image of God who wants us to live with justice as our guide and freedom as our goal. And may the peace of Christ which surpasses our understanding keep our hearts and minds in the companionship of the Holy Spirit and the love of God this day and evermore. Amen.

[1] Members of Christ Lutheran Church (ELCA) were with us n this day and did coffee hour and asked fort voluntary contributions for what they served. The money is sent to the denomination which, through one of the National Level foundations sends back $1.50 for each dollar sent in. This is a case of not only neighbors helping neighbors but doing so to help those outside the church, a fine example of justice the justice God would have us pursue in action.

[2] The church does a “thanksgiving Turkey Basket Drive. We act as coordinators for churches throughout the community. These churches will distribute 474 baskets this week. This church will distribute 190.

Trusting God ~ 11/14/2010

11/14/2010 ~ Proper 28 ~ 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost ~ Isaiah 65:17-25; Isaiah 12; Malachi 4:1-2a; Psalm 98; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19 ~ Stewardship Sunday/Enlistment Sunday.

Trusting God

“Surely God is my salvation, my deliverer; / I will trust, and will not be afraid, / for Yahweh, God, is my strength and my refuge; / God, Most High, has become my salvation, / my deliverance.” — Isaiah 12:2.


Evening Primrose is a musical with a book, a libretto, by James Goldman and songs by Stephen Sondheim. It was written for televison and was broadcast only once, November the 16th, 1966, 44 years ago this Tuesday, on ABC. A DVD of that broadcast has just been released, and no I have not seen it yet but I have ordered it. However, I do know the score and the story fairly well.

Let speak about it for a moment. Confined to the 50 minute time slot of sixties anthology television and based on a short story, the tale being told has a Twilight Zone twist. It explores the possibility that the mannequins in a department store are real people hiding from the real world. Not simply dummies for displaying clothes, these mannequins come alive at night and walk around and eat and talk and have parties in the store.

The tale follows a fellow named Charles, a poet who, fed up with the real world and its challenges, decides to retreat to this alternative reality of department store mannequins. He meets and is smitten with a beautiful young girl, Ella.

Now 19, she has lived in the store, lost in this separate existence, not because she chose it. She was separated from her mother at age six when she fell asleep in the women’s hat department and, so, abandoned— never contacted by her negligent family again.

There seems to be security in this strange life. After all, everything one needs is right there in the store. Still, Ella longs to leave this world, a place of night and shadows. She wants to return to the real world, breathe fresh air, feel a breeze, see the sun. But she is afraid.

Indeed, all those who exist in this department store world are unsure, worried and afraid about and afraid of the real world. After all, if someone did try to return to the outside world, it would risk revealing the very existence of the group in this sheltered nether land.

Ella seeks guidance from Charles. And Charles is tempted to return to the real world with her but he also realizes she has not seen the sun for thirteen years.

Perhaps that is the real reason Charles has fallen in love with Ella. She is innocent about that real world. He feels he knows the real world all too well and is horrified by it.

Ella, on the other hand, believes she can and she must leave the store for this real world with Charles. After all, he knows about it. He will protect her and be her guide. She wants to take the dare, take that chance, take the kind of step she has only dreamed about, return to a place she has nearly forgotten, that different world he knows so well.

Ella starts to sing: “Let me see the world with clouds, / Take me to the world. / Out where I can push through crowds, / Take me to the world. / A world that smiles / With streets instead of aisles / Where I can walk for miles with you.”

“Take me to the world that’s real / Show me how it’s done / Teach me how to laugh, to feel / Move me to the sun. / Just hold my hand whenever we arrive. / Take me to a world where I can be alive.”

Charles, not so sure about this, his words are, at first, spoken in response to her lyrics as she continues to sing, pleading with him that he needs to take her to the real world: “The world is better here,” he insists. “I know I’ve seen them both. / A poet doesn’t count for much out there.”

He then tries to tell her about the dangers, the reality: “We’d be cold and hungry in the winter— / A shabby room with cracked plaster— / You couldn’t get a job. / We’d end up hating each other. / We’d have fights. You’d cry. / I couldn’t bear it if you cried.”

Then he starts to sing in counterpoint to her song: “I have seen the world / And it’s mean and ugly / Here— we could laugh together. / Stay here with me. / I love you Ella. / We’d be happy here. / Stay here with me. / Stay here with me. / Stay here with me.” (Slight pause.)

The store opens the next morning. Two new handsome mannequins have appeared, bride and groom mannequins. Those watching the show know these figures. They look exactly like Ella and Charles, except dressed for a wedding, their faces frozen in place. A decision has been made. They stay in the world of mannequins. [1] (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah: “Surely God is my salvation, my deliverer; / I will trust, I will not be afraid, / for Yahweh, God, is my strength and my refuge; / God, Most High, has become my salvation, / my deliverance.” (Slight pause.)

I believe these words are about having full trust in God. Hence, these words are about the real world in which we live and we are called to trust God in the context of that real world.

Indeed, the world is real and it is not always friendly. It is often dangerous, precarious, unsafe, frightening. I have been there. I know.

I grew up on the mean streets of Brooklyn. I served in Vietnam. I have seen more violence and more sadness and more hardship in my life than I ever wanted to see. And, yes, I often do want to feel more protected and be more protected than that for which the real world allows.

But perhaps because I do know the real world, I also know its challenges. Among all the things I know, I know I must not be challenged by the real world. I must, instead, challenge the real world, live in it, live through it. (Slight pause.)

If a world filled with threats, real threats, is to ever be challenged, if a world filled with menace is to ever be changed, I, myself, must not acquiesce to the dangerous, precarious, unsafe, frightening, unfriendly-ness of that world. But how is that to be done? (Slight pause.)

I must strive to affirm that God is real and is present and is with us. I must trust God. I must stand fast and affirm that God constantly teaches us about joy and love and peace and hope.

And I know these are real. These attributes of joy and love and peace and hope are much more real than the reality of any terrors found in the so called ‘real world.’ (Slight pause.)

In a couple of minutes you will be invited to offer a pledge to your work. Notice, I did not call it the work of the church. I called it your work.

In making a pledge, you are invited to the real world. It is a world which can intimidate. But unless we, unless you challenge that world, the menace, the danger, the terrors which are found there, the false reality of that world will win.

So, I suppose the question for us today is this: can we and will we challenge the world and challenge ourselves to trust God who is real and present to us and teaches us about joy and love and peace and hope. (Slight pause.) My friends, unless we challenge ourselves, hope is just another four letter word. Unless we trust in God each and every day we step out into the real world, then we might as well all just be mannequins— in a constant state of surrender— complacent, compliant. (Slight pause.)

The challenge of your work, our work, the work of this church is before us. It is vital work. It is work in the real world. It is the work of hope. It is the work of faith. It is the work of peace. It is the work of love. And, indeed, it is the work of trust. Amen.

United Church of Christ, Norwich, New York.
11/14/2010

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “The late theologian Henri Nouwen said this: ‘Praying demands that you take to the road again and again, leaving your house and looking forward to a new land for yourself and others. This is why praying demands poverty— the readiness to live a life in which you have nothing to lose, so that you always begin afresh.’ [2] Perhaps the ‘poverty of spirit’ Jesus addresses in the Sermon on the Mount has to do with a readiness to live a life in which you have nothing to lose, so that you always begin afresh willingness— a readiness to challenge life.”

[1] Information on this broadcast from Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evening_Primrose_(musical)

The video of this song on the Internet Movie Database:
http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2556533017/

Information on this broadcast from the Internet Movie Database:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060384/

[2] Henri J. M. Nouwen, With Open Hands

God of the Living ~ 11/07/2010

11/07/2010 ~ Proper 27 ~ 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost ~ Haggai 1:15b-2:9; Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21 or Psalm 98; Job 19:23-27a; Psalm 17:1-9; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17; Luke 20:27-38 ~ Communion Sunday.

God of the Living

“God is not of the dead but of the living. All of them are alive to God.” — Luke 20:38 [ILV].


As a writer, I have what might be called literary roots or at least some literary connections, companions, fellow travelers. I know people now or I have known a number of people involved in writing. The last two weeks reminded me of that.

I was reminded in part because of this social networking thing called Facebook. It has allowed me to both reconnect and connect with writers I have known and/or newly know. One of those writers, a college level teacher of writing, posted on Facebook that she is involved with something called NaNoWriMo. What is that? Why it’s National Novel Writing Month, of course— NaNoWriMo— National Novel Writing Month.

Always held in November, the project challenges participants to write a new novel of at least 50,000 words in just one month. In July 1999 the NaNoWriMo project started with only 21 participants.

Last year, 2009, almost 170,000 people took part, writing over 2.4 billion words. Those wishing to participate simply register on the website of the project and submit an electronic copy of a novel. The site automatically validates the word count. [1]

Another friend, a writer and illustrator of children’s books, is this month involved with PiBoIdMo. And what is that? Picture Book Idea Month, of course— it’s the same concept as a novel writing month but in a slightly different medium. [2]

Yet another friend recently left the legal profession and is working on a Master’s Degree in writing. She had an interesting post about writers on her Facebook page. You did not even need to be a writer to respond.

She invited friends to list 15 authors who have had an influence on them. Among the writers on her list were Truman Capote, Jane Austen, William Shakespeare and Virginia Woolf.

Needless to say, I responded to her post by offering my list. But none of my names were novelists. My list was mostly lyricists— writers of lyrics— along with some composers.

I included Lorenz Hart, Oscar Hammerstein, Dorothy Fields and Cole Porter— not my whole list, just some. But doing this exercise got me to thinking about the song writers who have had an influence on me and whom I have also had an opportunity to meet face to face.

Among these are Stephen Sondheim, Sheldon Harnick, Irving Caesar, “Yip” Harburg and Richard Rodgers. But something else happened in the last two weeks, just when I was reminiscing about my writing roots, which gave me pause.

I never met Jerry Bock, who wrote the music of Fiddler on the Roof to go with the lyrics Sheldon Harnick wrote. Bock died this week. And I never met Joseph Stein, who wrote the libretto for Fiddler. He died just ten days before Bock. But I did meet Harnick, who worked with the both of them.

Now, remembering all these writers I’ve met over time got me thinking about those I did not meet. I mean, I never met George Gershwin, for instance. He died before I was even born. But I did meet Irving Caesar, now deceased, the lyric writer who wrote Swannee with Gershwin in 1919 and Tea for Two with Vincent Youmans in 1925.

And I met “Yip” Harburg, also no longer with us, and I did not meet any of his collaborators. Of course, he was the lyricist for what may have been the most important song to come out of the Great Depression Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

On the other end of the emotional spectrum, he later provided lyrics for what many consider to be best popular American song ever written— Somewhere Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz. He was, needless to say, a great artist and worked with many great artists I never met from Judy Garland to Jerome Kern.

To be clear, I am not saying anything is special about me by reciting this list simply because I met these folks nor am I trying to drop names. The fact that I met some of them is simply happenstance, chance. It, therefore, makes me feel both lucky and humble.

Now, what I am saying is meeting some of these folks makes me feel like I’ve somehow touched history. It also reminds of how fragile life can be. And it reminds me that some of these great people, these great artists are no longer with us.

Indeed, when I officiate at a memorial service one of the things stated in the opening words is this (quote): “We gather as God’s people, conscious of others who have died and of the frailty of our own existence on earth.” And, yes, every time I say those words, I try to be fully aware of the frailty of my own existence, how fleeting life is.

I think having met some of these people helps me be aware of my own frailty. What these writers I admire accomplished had a great impact. But they were human— frail mortals. (Slight pause.)

I want to remind you of what was stated earlier: resurrection is a Jewish belief. [3] But it is also one which developed over time and in New Testament times not all Jews believed it, the Sadducees among them. Prior to a belief in resurrection, the Israelites believed that one lived on in one’s descendants, one lived on in their memory.

All of those writers I mentioned were relatively famous. And, as I said, I did not even meet some of those mentioned. However, clearly, at some point, no one will be alive who knew any of them directly or indirectly. (Slight pause.) So, if we are not directly or indirectly remembered by someone, is that somehow a point which measures us, measures the frailty of our existence? (Slight pause.)

And these words are found in Luke/Acts in the section commonly referred to as Luke: “God is not of the dead but of the living. All of them are alive to God.” (Slight pause.)

Sometimes anthropologists say what defines us as human is that we create self reflective art. In the most ancient of art on walls of caves, along with primitive sketches of animals, are outlines of human hands— someone trying to leave an individual mark.

Anthropologists also sometimes say the impetus toward art is an attempt at claiming we are immortal because somehow we believe what we create and leave behind will remain forever. After all, what are the pyramids about except a claim on immortality. (Slight pause.)

One of our Christian claims is that God created human life, that life comes from God. Is life, the life we now know, the end of it? Or is there something more? (Slight pause.) Belief in the resurrection seems to say there is something more.

But what are we proclaiming when we proclaim the resurrection? Is a claim about the resurrection a claim about immortality or is it a claim about something else? After all, the reading from Job says (quote): “my body has been destroyed / and after my skin is no longer, yet then, in my flesh, shall I see God,...” How are we to take that? It sounds self-contradictory. (Slight pause.)

The resurrection is not about resuscitation or reanimation. The resurrection is about life with God. We, being children of God, are children of the resurrection. We are alive in God and because of God. Our claim is that God loves us so much we will not die.

So, yes, the Christian belief is that the resurrection of the body is real. And our claim is that the resurrection of Jesus is a foretaste of that. But again, that is a claim for neither resuscitation nor reanimation. Resurrection is what is says it is: resurrection— a category apart from normal experience.

And we make yet another claim. God is a God of the living. Therefore, since God is a God of the living, now, today, we need to walk in God’s will. And it is certainly evident throughout Scripture that this work of God is the work of justice and of peace and that the work of God is to be done now, here, today. (Slight pause.)

This morning we were invited to bring stuffing for the Thanksgiving baskets. Don’t worry if you forgot to do that. You can bring it in any time.

This year, the churches in Norwich will again work cooperatively on those baskets. According to the count we have now, the churches will be putting together a total 448 baskets.

All those scheduled to get a basket have been referred by some social service agency. In short, all these folks are in need.

This is the work of God— the work of equity and justice— here, now, today. God, you see, is a God of the living. And that, my friends, is the only thing, the only art of ours, which is ever writ large in the book of life— written for all eternity— the work of the living God, the work of justice and peace, is our mark and work in which we are all invited to participate. Amen.

11/07/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York.

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “Benjamin Jowett was a 19th Century English theologian and Oxford professor. He said this (quote): ‘We cannot seek or attain health, wealth, learning, justice or kindness in general. Action is always specific, concrete, individualized, unique.’ If God is a living God and the resurrection is real, action which is specific, concrete, individualized, unique would seem to be in order. Not because we want to buy fire insurance— you know what I mean— do this or you will go to “h-e double hockey sticks”— that kind of fire insurance. If God is a living God then God calls us to do the living work of the dominion now.”

[1] http://www.nanowrimo.org/

[2] http://en.wordpress.com/tag/piboidmo/

[3] This was stated in the introduction to the reading from Luke. This information can be found in The New Interpreters Bible: The Electronic Version in its commentary on this passage. Needless to say, the electronic version of this work has exactly the same information as the printed verison.

NOVEMBER LETTER TO THE CHURCH

Dear Friends in Christ,

I sit down to write this article on October the 25th. I realize that one month from today will be Thanksgiving. Two months from today will be Christmas. And yet, the World Series has not started. The first game will be on October the 27th.

Is there something wrong with this picture? Has time suddenly become all mixed up? Or were things that crazy all along? And it sure feels like it will be a very short time between now and Christmas. How will I ever cope?

In a recent conversation with my brother— these days we converse more by e-mail than by phone— because of a newspaper article I shared with him about the era when we were children, he and I were remembering those times of childhood we spent together. He opined that “Life was sure simpler back then!” I wrote back: “Was it simpler or did we know less?”

So, is my brother right? Were things simpler? Or was I merely able to place myself in the shoes of my parents and recognize that their life— they were a part of that group sometimes dubbed The Greatest Generation— was as complex as ours is now? And did they feel as pressured as I sometimes feel?

In a study of the Book of Genesis, literary scholar Gary A. Rendsburg of Rutgers University (he does not look at the theological, but does analyze the writing) references the presence of the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden story and says this: “The main issue... for the ancient Israelites, the main quest, was knowledge and not eternal life.”

As I said, he does not look at theology and I think that statement is only partially true. I believe theology is addressed in the quest for knowledge.

Indeed, the theology of knowledge is perhaps missed by most. I want to suggest it is hard to grow without knowledge. And growth is an important aspect of our life with God.

I also want to suggest (as many have before me), that the core business of the church is transforming lives. For Christians, studying Scripture and being renewed by worship can be the catalyst for Christian transformation. That transformation, in turn, empowers mission.

For me it is, therefore, an obvious point that knowledge is an important component in transformation, in this journey called our life with God. The journey is not easy. We are daily faced with many changes, especially cultural changes. (Do you want to communicate with young people? Better have a Facebook Account, a Web Site, e-mail and the ability to send text messages.)

However, if there is a willingness on the part of the leadership of a church (both lay and ordained) to help guide the community of faith in coping with the cultural challenges we face in our era, the benefits can be bountiful. And, perhaps the best way to start this journey is by asking questions about ‘who we are.’

And the questions a church needs to ask, questions like ‘who are we today?’ and ‘what can I do to help others today?’ have the potential to change lives, especially our own lives, because they tend to challenge us, our culture and also ask questions about how we fit into the culture.

Again, we need to be mindful of the fact that there is no easy path to positive outcomes when we start to ask questions which have the potential to help. Indeed, there are no glib answers. There is no free lunch. (God is not Santa Claus; 21st Century culture tends to confuse God and Santa Claus.)

That is, in fact, why I think the image of knowledge is of theological import. There is no free lunch. Transformation does require growth and change. Knowledge only empowers that.

To say life is more complex now than it was for our parents or for the Israelites misses the point of our life with God. Growth is the place to which God calls us. Growth in knowledge is an aspect of a true spirituality.

It has never seemed to be that passivity is a successful path to pursue as a life strategy. Hence, it seems to me that active participation, active engagement in all aspect of our life is a fruitful and faithful way to live.

Is knowledge theological? Yes. Why? We need to engage knowledge, engage in life, engage those around us, engage in a constant dialogue with God. (Dialogue with God— that’s called prayer!)

So, what will happen if we, in this church engage in the practice of transformation and growth, empowered by knowledge? You tell me.

In Faith,

Joe Connolly

10/31/2010 ~ Our Calling

10/31/2010 ~ Proper 26 ~ 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost (If All Saints not observed on this day) ~ Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4; Psalm 119:137-144; Isaiah 1:10-18; Psalm 32:1-7; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12; Luke 19:1-10 ~ Hymn Sing Prelude; Preliminary Budget Meeting.

Our Calling

“...learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” — Isaiah 1:17

Legend has it that on the 31st of October 1517, 493 years ago today, Martin Luther tacked what became known as the 95 Theses on the door of the Cathedral in Wittenberg. Wittenberg was a university town. It was the custom to post things meant to fire public debate on important topics. So, one posted what was offered in that spirit on the door of the church.

There is no clear proof Luther actually posted this document on the door of the university church on this very date, the Eve of the Feast of All Saints. But it is known the monk both sent the work to members of the hierarchy of the church and published it about this time of the year. Written in Latin, the writing was translated into Greek and into the German vernacular nearly immediately and spread all over Germany within two years.

So, is the debate Luther started still going on today and what was the main point these words addressed? Yes, the debate still smolders, nearly 500 years later. And the main point was this: is church about preservation of the institution or is church about our relationship with God and one another?

Now, to be clear, that is my very brief analysis of a central issue. I am sure my Seminary Church History professor would not be pleased that I have reduced it to a single point. One could easily list numerous other issues. The truth was and is the situation was and is more complex. There are, after all, 95 theses.

However, I do not think the full breadth of what happened and what was triggered by this initiation of the Reformation is fodder for a Sunday sermon. (On the other hand, many of my Lutheran colleagues often do try to accomplish that task on this day, or at least feel the burden of doing that. So be glad we are not Lutherans.) But certainly we can look at this small piece of it: is the church about the institution or about relationship?

I think Luther’s thrust was clear: it’s about relationship and if we are to be a relational church, how does that happen? I do need to note that in this case neither Luther nor I am using the word ‘church’ to mean an institution. The word ‘church’ means a group of people gathered in relationship to God and called by God to be in a specific and special relationship to one another.

Now, the institutional church of the time, the institutional church of which Luther was a good and a loyal member, had obviously come to a point where the functioning of and preservation of the institution had become a dominant theme. In disagreeing with the direction in which the church was going, Luther said two things: first, the basis of church is a relationship with God and with one another. Second, Scripture is all you need as a guide to building the relationships called church.

Indeed, at least in principle, it seems we, in this church, agree with Luther. This is a quote from the By-laws of our church here in Norwich: “This Church acknowledges Jesus, the Christ, as its head and finds in the Holy Scriptures its guidance in matters of faith and discipline, as interpreted by the Divine Spirit through reason, faith, and conscience.” (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah: “...learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” (Slight pause.)

I am in the process of reading a book filled with statistics about the make up of congregations of all stripes, people who gather for worship in churches, mosques, temples, gather in all these institutions of worship. This, the author insists, is at least one metric of ‘religiosity.’

This enumeration of the people and of these ‘institutions of worship’ counted include everyone from those who populate Catholic Churches to those who fill Shinto Temples. In short, the author defines ‘religiosity’ by saying people who attend institutions of religion are ‘religious.’ (Slight pause.)

Would it surprise you to know that, as a whole and measured in that way, Americans are more religious than the citizens of Iran? Americans have a higher regular church attendance rate than people who live in a country most of us would label as and believe to be a theocracy. [1]

I, therefore, need to say I disagree with the place this author comes down on how to measure religiosity. Let me use a shorthand way to explain why I disagree.

Forgetting for a moment those who attend mosques and temples, let’s restrict my shorthand description to those who attend churches. If I do that, if I count just those who attend church, I maintain I have not counted all the adherents of Christianity.

What I have measured is how many people are involved in the institutions commonly called church. I have counted the adherents of “churchianity,” not the adherents of Christianity.

And that leaves us with exactly the same issue Martin Luther was challenging some five hundred years ago: ‘what does it mean to be church?’ Please note: that is not what does it mean to ‘have an institution called church?’ but what does it mean to ‘be church?’ (Slight pause.)

In the reading from Isaiah Yahweh, God, rails against mere religiosity. (Quote:) “Do not bring your useless offerings. It is futile; their incense is an abomination to me and fills me with loathing” [2] (unquote).

Further, God clearly invites us to be relational with one another (quote): “...learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” And it may surprise some, but God invites us to be relational not just with one another. God invites us to be relational with God in an amazing way. (Quote:) “‘Come now— let us argue it out; let us look at the choices before you,’ says Yahweh.” [3]

And it needs to be noted God has set a clear choice before us and the choice is not between the institution and the relational. The institution is not even considered. The choice is how will we sort through all the relational choices, the myriad of relational choices we face?

That brings us back to Luther and what needed to be faced in the early 16th Century and perhaps what needs to be faced also now. Luther’s great call was that we be justified by faith, not by works. And I think Luther was a master of the path Scripture lays out for us.

Luther was, indeed, not opposed to institution but a member in good standing. Luther understood the need for institution. But Luther also understood that, we, the church, must first be faithful or the institution was and will be doomed to failure. We must be church. We must be relational.

So, what are we called by God to do and to be? What is our calling? (Slight pause.) Earlier in the service, in explaining All Saints Day, I said November 1st is the Feast of All Who Are Holy. And I said the word ‘holy’ means set aside to do the work of God. We are all set aside to do the work of God. [4]

We are called to be holy, called to do the work of God, called to be relational, called to build relationships. But perhaps what is more challenging to many, is that we are not called to churchianity. We are called to Christianity.

The call to be Christians is not a call to the institution. Indeed, there is no quicker way to make an institution die than to be dedicated to the institution as opposed to its goals. And, indeed, the call to us from God is there is but one goal: to be relational. (Slight pause.)

A short time after this service, just after we’ve had some coffee, many of us will gather to hear some information about what next year’s budget might look like. Since I agree with Luther and say the institution is necessary, I invite all of you to be with us and to sit and talk about the institution and its challenges.

As you do so, I invite you to remember two things. Our By-laws say this (quote): “This Church acknowledges Jesus, the Christ, as its head and finds in the Holy Scriptures its guidance in matters of faith and discipline, as interpreted by the Divine Spirit through reason, faith, and conscience.”

Second, in the Prophet Isaiah Yahweh, God, says this (quote): “...learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”

What is our call? What is our true calling? To be church. To be relational. Amen.

10/31/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “I have offered this here before. It bears repeating. The Anglican theologian Nicholas Thomas Wright has said modern times and New Testament Times are essentially the same. In Ancient Rome, most people believed in God or the Gods. After all, they offered sacrifices at the Roman temples. Few people took that belief in God seriously. The more things change...”

[1] Chart, Page 9; American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us by Robert D. Putnam and David E Campbell; Simon & Schuster, New York, 2010.

[2] Isaiah 1:13a

[3] Isaiah 1:18a.

[4] This was said before the start of the formal Service of Worship, during the ‘Welcome and Announcements.’

Recognizing the Spirit ~ 10/24/2010 ~ Proper 25 ~ 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost.

10/24/2010 ~ Proper 25 ~ 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost ~ Joel 2:23-32; Psalm 65; Sirach 35:12-17 or Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22; Psalm 84:1-7; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14.

Recognizing the Spirit

“I will pour out my spirit / on all flesh, on all humankind; / your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, / your elders, all of them, / shall have prophetic dreams, / and your young people shall see visions...” — Joel 2:28b.


Constantin Stanislavski was a Russian actor and director of plays who lived from 1863 to 1938. He is probably not widely known outside of theater circles but his name is important to theater professionals.

On the other hand, it’s likely most people have heard what Stanislavski did. He invented the ‘Method System’ of acting. ‘The System’ has had such famous adherents as Marlon Brando, Anne Bankcroft, Robert De Niro, Nicole Kidman, Paul Newman and Cate Blanchett to name but a few.

What ‘The Method’ really does is invite those who study it to a holistic approach to acting. It asks actors to build a character, first from the outside in and then again from the inside out. This system expects an actor to delve into the character’s psychology, class, education, behavior, familial life and spiritual life— engage completely in who a character might be. Stanislavski sometimes described ‘The Method’ as ‘Spiritual Realism’— Spiritual Realism. (Slight pause.)

Once of my mentors in theater, Louis Simon, actually studied with Stanislavski in Moscow. Simon was near seventy when I met him. He was a Jewish boy who grew up in Salt Lake City surrounded by Mormons, studied at Yale in the late 1920s and just when the depression hit left for Russia, a letter of introduction to the great director in his hand.

In pre-Soviet times Stanislavski had been a friend of both Tolstoy and Chekhov but was, by then, the moving force behind the great Moscow Art Theater. My friend never tired of telling the story of his first encounter with Stanislavski.

Louis presented his credential to a protective stage manager at the theater and was told to sit in the back of the house, to say nothing and to just watch the rehearsal in progress. Stanislavski, the master, would find time for him at some point.

Now, the scene being rehearsed on that day took place backstage at an American vaudeville show. The situation called for a group of chorus girls to be chattering, gossiping among themselves. Having finished their dialogue, the action then called for the chorines to dance out of the sight of the audience watching the play but, therefore, onto the unseen vaudeville stage, into the sight of another audience watching the vaudeville show.

Now, Stanislavski was a big stickler for realism. He realized these were supposed to be simple, young chorus girls. So, he had instructed many of the actresses to chew gum as they spoke their lines.

Again, stressing realism, he also understood, once they had finished their dialogue, they would be dancing onto another stage and on that stage it would be inappropriate for them to be chewing gum. After all, even if the audience for his play could not see the girls as they danced at the unseen vaudeville house, they would be seen— really seen— by this other audience for whom they would be dancing.

Stanislavski was stumped. Given that they should be chewing gum backstage, he could not figure out how the girls might get rid of their gum before they danced onto this unseen stage. (Slight pause.)

Suddenly, Stanislavski turned toward the back of the theater and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Where is my American?” He, of course, meant my friend, Louis.

Louis cautiously moved to the front of the house. “You see what’s going on here?” asked the great director. Louis nodded. “They are chewing gum, as they should be, given who they are. But they can’t be doing that once they are dancing on stage, yes?” Louis nodded.

“You are an American, yes?” Louis nodded. “You have seen a little vaudeville, yes?” Louis nodded. “How... would they get rid of the gum?”

Now, as stated, Stanislavski was a stickler for realism. He had built a backstage set that looked like a real backstage area. So, on one the side of the set for the play Stanislavski was rehearsing there was an entrance to that vaudeville stage— the side of a proscenium arch.

Thinking quickly, Louis leaped up onto the stage with the actresses who were standing around waiting for an answer about what to do with their gum. He move to the side of the set and pounded on what would have been the proscenium about belt high. “Each of them must take the gum out of their mouth and stick it right on the arch about here as they dance by,” he announced triumphantly.

Needless to say, in a flash, Louis had sized up who these people might be and, given what they needed to do, projected their likely action. Also, needless to say, he simply thought it through. He was present in the moment and, thereby, aware of what was necessary. (Slight pause.)

Stanislavski, seeing this, nodded appreciatively. “So, you have come to study with me, yes?” Louis nodded. “This... will be a fruitful time, I think,” said the Russian. (Slight pause.)

And these words are found in the work known as Joel: “I will pour out my spirit / on all flesh, on all humankind; / your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, / your elders, all of them, / shall have prophetic dreams, / and your young people shall see visions...” (Slight pause.)

As Christians, we make all kinds of statements about the Spirit of God. But, as Christians, there is one primary claim we make. In Jesus, the Messiah, the Christ, God broke into the fabric of the existence of humanity in a special, specific way, broke into time in a way which helps us see the grace God offers.

In short, the claim is simple. Christ lives. Christ is with us. The Spirit of God is present to humanity and the fullness and the reality of the Christ confirms this. But how can we, how do we, how are we able to be aware of that grace, that Spirit? (Slight pause.)

I think in looking at the words of the prophet Joel, there are few better examples which proclaiming the nature of the enduring grace God offers. And please remember, from a Biblical prospective prophecy has nothing to do with foretelling the future. Prophecy is about sharing a word concerning the truth God offers to us.

Indeed, the gist of the passage is clear. No matter how dark the present moment, unforgiving judgment does not have the final word. God’s final and gracious Word is one of hope and redemption and grace.

Still, this begs the question what should we being doing with that? (Slight pause.) I want to suggest that Louis Simon had it right in his first encounter with Stanislavski. Think the situation through.

Think things through from the outside in and then again from the inside out. Think any and all situations through. But, most importantly, think through the situation called life with God. How is the Spirit a part of that? What does that feel like? (Slight pause.)

I want to suggest that The Spirit is with us when we hope, when we praise, when we love. The Spirit is not found when we buy into fear, anger, distrust or ignorance. When we buy into fear, anger, distrust, ignorance we are not concentrating on the Spirit and, just as important, we are not concentrating on healthy relationships.

Spirituality, you see, is based on healthy relationships. We meet the Holy in relationships. The late practical theologian, Henri Nouwen, writes that spiritual life means (quote): “the nurturing of the eternal amid the temporal, the lasting within the passing”— the lasting within the passing.

Hence, we need to both be welcoming the day, each and every day, and be welcoming to the one next to us. We need live fully in the present moment, be present to one another, while acknowledging eternal life promised by God as real. This is a spiritual path. (Slight pause.)

Will, as the reading suggested, God pour out God’s own Spirit on us? (Slight pause.) I maintain the Spirt of God is with us now and is with us for eternity. I maintain this is a key message of the Gospel, a message clearly communicated by the resurrection, a message made known to us in the living Christ.

I believe the challenge for us is not one of searching for the Spirit. The Spirit is with us. The challenge for us is doing the work— the psychological, educational, behavioral work— which will lead us toward both being more aware of the presence of the Spirit of God and enhance our spiritual life as we find ways to cooperate with the Spirit of God— the Spirit of God, which is always present to us. Amen.

10/24/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York.

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “I said this earlier— the Hebrew word Ruach means Spirit, it means breadth. This should be a reminder to us that our belief is in a living God who is present to us.” [1]

[1] At the Children’s time the Mr. Tom Rasely, our Music Associate played on a set of bongo drums and the Pastor invited all the children and some adults who had been invited forward to experience this to place their hands under the drums as Tom played them. They were able to feel the air “exhale” from the drums. The Pastor noted that Scripture tells us that everything that lives should praise God and, therefore, even these drums which breathe praise God. The pastor then pointed out the Hebrew word for breath, Ruach, was the same as the word for Spirit. So, perhaps you could also feel the breath of God in the drums.

Covenant of the Heart ~ 10/17/2010 ~ 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 24)

10/17/2010 ~ 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 24) ~ Jeremiah 31:27-34; Psalm 119:97-104; Genesis 32:22-31; Psalm 121; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5; Luke 18:1-8.

Covenant of the Heart

“...this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says Yahweh: I will put my Law within them, in their minds and I will write it on their hearts. I will be their God; they shall be my people.” — Jeremiah 31:33.


Fiddler on the Roof is the famous Broadway musical set in the Tsarist Russia of 1905. It is based on the short stories of Sholem Aleichem, the pen name of the writer Salomon Rabinovich. All of the stories by this author were written in Yiddish and Sholem Aleichem means “peace be with you” in Yiddish.

Fiddler concentrates mostly on one of those stories, the tale of Tevye, the dairy farmer, his wife and their five daughters. In the course of the narrative we see and hear about this family and their attempts to maintain both familial traditions and religious traditions while outside influences encroach upon their lives and the world around them changes in drastic ways.

The three eldest daughters in the family are strong-willed young women. The choice of husband each makes moves them away from the traditions to which the people in this small town on the Steeps of Russia are accustomed.

Further, these are turbulent times in the reign of the Tsar. Indeed, those sitting in the audience who are seeing and hearing this work and who have any sense of history know that, twelve years after the Tsar evicts these Jews by edict from their village, their town, Anatevka— those sitting in the audience with any sense of history know the very same government will be overthrown by the Communist Revolution.

Despite the forces of change or perhaps because of them, the story keeps coming back to the people in the town, keeps coming back to the personal, keeps coming back to the individual. Yes, the people are battered by change and by changing times, battered by forces beyond their control. But they find their anchor in the intimate relationships among their family and their friends in the village, relationships which have been built over time.

This concept is well illustrated when Tevye explains to Golde, his wife of 25 years, that their eldest daughter wants to get married. She has rejected the arranged marriage they envisioned for her, arranged marriage being normal, the custom in the village. Instead, she wants to get married to the one she loves.

In song, Tevye and his wife reflect on what it is love might mean. Tevye asks Golde: “Do you love me?” Golde responds: “Do I what?” In his heartfelt, gruff way Teyve asks again: “Do you love me?”

Goldie thinks all the change happening around them has overwhelmed her husband. “Do I love you? / With our daughters getting married / And this trouble in the town / You’re upset, you’re worn out / Go inside, go lie down! / Maybe it’s indigestion.”

Tevye will not be deterred: “Golde, I’m asking you a question... Do you love me?”

In responding, Golde becomes a little more reflective and even practical about their time together: “Do I love you? / For twenty-five years I’ve washed your clothes / Cooked your meals, cleaned your house / Given you children, milked the cow / After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?”

Turning to some unseen audience (it is God to whom she speaks?), she adds this: “For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him / Fought him, starved with him / Twenty-five years my bed is his / If that’s not love, what is?” (Slight pause.)

As the song concludes, together they admit that they love one another. “It doesn’t change a thing / But even so / After twenty-five years / It’s nice to know.” Hence, they end with this duet, they end as one, voicing a singular thought concerning their long term relationship. What developed between them over time clearly is love by any definition. (Slight pause.)

We live in our own tumultuous times today. Indeed, the well known comedienne and television personality Whoopi Goldberg just published a book titled: Is It Just Me? Or Is It Nuts Out There? And maybe we do live in a time which feels that way, a little nuts, with people acting just a little off... sometimes more than a little.

I recently heard the well known author Malcolm Gladwell tell a story about giving a lecture in a wealthy, suburban community. Best known for populist books that explore change in society, in this talk, as in his books, he offered facts and figures about population groups and economic conditions. Gladwell pointed out to this wealthy, suburban audience that in the 1950s the tax rate for the wealthy ran just over 90%. [1]

The audience refused to believe him. Some in the crowd started to hiss. [2] And, since it was a dinner function at which he was speaking, someone even tossed a roll in his direction. The reaction Gladwell experienced was one of anger, perhaps even fear— maybe the other way around— fear first, then anger. But why be fearful or angry? Gladwell did not make up these facts. It’s the truth.

The income tax rate for the wealthy in each and every year of the decade called the 1950s was just over 90%. You can look it up. And the wealthy were not being picked on. Whereas the lowest tax rate today is 10%, in the 1950s, the lowest rate was 20%.

But when someone throws a dinner roll at you for merely stating a fact, it proves that not only do we live in tumultuous times. It proves Whoopi Goldberg may be right: it feels like it’s nuts out there.

It seems to me that when people refuse to pay attention to facts, as did this audience, when people are willfully ignorant about the facts, as this audience certainly seemed to be, the result is often fear and anger. That is what happened, of course, in Tsarist Russia— a toxic combination of ignorance, fear and anger.

People were fearful about and fearful of the Jewish minority. But they did not really know the Jews. As a minority in that time and in that place, Jews were often isolated in small villages and ghettos. The ignorance about them morphed into fear. Fear morphed into anger. Anger then transform into violence.

The pogroms, the edicts from the Tsar and later from Central Committee of the Soviet Union, took center stage. In short, ignorance, fear and anger translated not just into violence but into systemic violence. All this was a result of failing to know the facts but, perhaps more tragically, wilfully ignoring the facts. (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the work known as Jeremiah: “...this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says Yahweh: I will put my Law within them, in their minds and I will write it on their hearts. I will be their God; they shall be my people.” (Slight pause.)

What is love? Is love infatuation? Is it an attraction? Is love simply an emotional high? Or does love, as Tevye and Golde suggest, have its real basis in deeply knowing someone, have its real basis in growth? (Slight pause.)

Please notice, that the promise of God is to write knowledge— to write the knowledge of God on both the hearts of people and on the minds. Indeed, the claim God makes is that we are known so well by God that this intimacy produces forgiveness for our failings. Hence, perhaps the thing to which we need to be open is to also grow in our own intimacy with God, in our own knowledge of God.

This is clear: when growth is abandoned or simply ignored, fear is embraced. Covenant love is the opposite of that. Covenant love, as proclaimed by and in Scripture, is commitment to understanding, commitment to respect, commitment... to growth.

Love, you see, true love is not merely an infatuation nor is it only an attraction nor is it simply an emotional high. Love is something which develops and grows.

Why? How? Love comes from knowledge, cumulative knowledge, of others, knowledge which is intentionally pursued. When commitment to covenant love is made, deep, enduring love develops. When commitment to covenant love is made, growth happens. (Slight pause.)

I want to suggest that the love God writes on our minds and on our hearts is already there, already present. Too often we ignore it instead of embracing it. And there is only one way to embrace it. To love deeply and to love over time we must learn love by engaging it over time.

One more point: God starts with one assumption— that we will always be loved by God. Indeed, that is one reason why God insist we are forgiven— because we are loved.

Hence, the challenge for us is simple: God has made a commitment to us and invites us to be committed also. Will we become committed to loving God? Will we become committed to covenant love, covenant love which is embodied by growth? Amen.

10/17/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, NY

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “The thought for the day in the bulletin is from H. Richard Neibuhr. He said: ‘Christianity is permanent revolution (here he uses the Greek word for permanent revolution or metanoia) which does not come to an end in this world, this life or this time.’ For me, ‘permanent revolution’ means not chaos or tumultuous time, but constant growth.”

[1] http://www.taxfoundation.org/publications/show/151.html

[2] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uskJWrOQ97I