Sermon ~ 04/24/2011 ~ Resurrection of the Lord ~ Easter Day ~ The Bonds of Death

04/24/2011 ~ Resurrection of the Lord ~ Easter Day ~ Acts 10:34-43 or Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 or Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 or Mark 16:1-8 ~ Used Isaiah 25:6-9; 1 Corinthians 15:3-7; John 20:1-18 ~ Used: John 19:31-34, 38-42 [ILV]; 1 Corinthians 15:3-7 [ILV]; John 20:1-18 [ILV].

The Bonds of Death

“Since it was the day before the Sabbath and the tomb was nearby, they buried Jesus there.” — John 19:42


“What is truth?” That was the simple question Pontius Pilate, the Fifth Prefect of the Roman Province of Judea, had posed to the Rabbi. The question haunted this officer of Rome these last three days.

And it was, in fact, the third day since he had authorized the crucifixion, the murder of the one known as Yehoshua— Jesus in the Greek. (Slight pause.) What is truth? Even though it was he, Pilate, who uttered the words, he could not forget them. (Slight pause.)

He tried to put the question out of his mind as he sat up on his bed. The air was cold and damp. He felt chilled to the bone.

The question about truth had kept him from sleep a second night now. He got up and began walking around the headquarters, the Praetorium. Perhaps just being awake and moving might provide some warmth.

The Praetorium was a massive stone structure. It always felt cold, even in the summer. It was meant to be little more than a building for the administrative offices of the Empire combined with a barracks for the cohort, the 500 or so soldiers stationed in Jerusalem.

The garrisons the Empire kept in the whole region of Judea were relatively small. That fit the basic foreign policy of Rome. Once a country had been pacified by the army, a local puppet government was set up. The Jew, Herod Antipas, Tetrarch, performed that function in Judea admirably, providing stability, maintaining its status as a client state.

Still, the possibility of rebellion was always lingered. Populist riots are difficult to quell. So, a small cadre of Roman soldiers maintained peace with the threat of violence.

That violence was made real in crucifixion. In the last year, the garrisons in the area had killed thousands of Jews by this method. Yehoshua, this Jesus, was just one of many who died.

Still, Pilate wondered about his interaction with the Rabbi. He seemed different. He seemed like he knew who he was. He seemed like he knew what was going to happen.

Yehoshua seemed to know this officer of Rome had the power of life and death over him. Yet, that knowledge did not appear to concern prisoner. (Slight pause.) Pilate wondered from where that question he asked the Rabbi had come. “What is truth?” (Slight pause.)

Several times a year the Prefect needed to come from the seat of the Roman Government in this area, the town of Caesarea, to Jerusalem. Right now, at the Passover Festival, was one time Pilate felt the need to be there. The very celebration of the feast highlighted nationalistic sentiments among the Jews. Freedom was an underlying theme. This made the possibility of violence real.

Pilate loved Caesarea. It was on the ocean. The climate was warmer than Jerusalem. He liked walking along its beaches, soaking up the sun.

It seemed to Pilate Jerusalem was not just colder in terms of temperature than Caesarea, but more inhospitable too. Perhaps tensions between the secular Jewish state operated by Herod and the Temple, controlled by the religious authorities, contributed to that. (Slight pause.)

Pilate stood at the entryway of the Pretorium and looked out into the darkness. Hints of dawn flitted about the murky courtyard. A dense fog had settled in. Again, he noticed how cold and wet the air felt.

He wondered if a tomb felt like this— cold, wet. Once more his mind went to the encounter with that Rabbi. He wondered if the tomb which held the body of Yehoshua felt cold like this, wet like this. He wondered if you felt anything when you die.

Or was there just... nothing... nothing to feel? Was life simply done, over? Or was there something like what the Pharisees, the Rabbis spoke about— this... this... what did they call it? Resurrection. (Slight pause.)

There was nothing after life. At least that’s what Romans believed. When it came to the gods, you offered a sacrifice, you might get something in return. As the saying went, you got something if the gods were pleased, if the gods were with you. If you got nothing, it was just bad luck.

Pilate knew from speaking with the Chief Priests that the religion of the Jews was based on a covenant with God, a relationship with God. They said God was alive. God, they said, loved.

God? Love? Those two words together seemed so... so... strange. With Roman gods, no relationship was necessary. It was merely a transaction.

The gods of Rome were practical. Nothing seemed practical about love. Nothing seemed practical about having a relationship with a god. Nothing seemed practical about this idea of resurrection.

Still, in retrospect, it seemed to Pilate that Yehoshua, this Jesus, knew something about God and about love. But the government had its sources. He had heard reports about Jesus.

What this one preached— love, justice, peace, equity— could incite people to rebellion. So it seemed only prudent to execute the Rabbi, even if innocence was clear, even if the charges were obviously false. Unrest, even a threat of it, could not be tolerated.

Did he struggle with the decision to execute? A little. After all, Jesus was innocent.

But he never thought anything to do with innocence or guilt had much place when it comes to governing. Governing was about being practical. If that meant being harsh, even brutal, so be it. (Slight pause.)

That question crossed his mind again. What is truth? (Slight pause.)

Pilate knew the fog would burn off soon. The air was now light with a morning glow and he could see the whole courtyard.

Suddenly, he noticed a centurion running toward him across the empty space at full speed. Pilate recognized the officer as the one who had been put in charge of guarding the tomb where the rabble-rouser Yehoshua was buried.

Out of breath, the soldier sputtered out words as fast as he could. They seemed incoherent. “Tomb... Rabbi... body... gone... women...” (Slight pause.)

Pilate turned and walked away, headed back toward his room. Somehow, he knew what the soldier meant and he knew what had happened and he did not want the centurion to see him cry. But he was crying.

And suddenly the question was there again: what is truth? Were the Jews right? Was a relationship with God a truth? Or is life only a transaction?

Was the resurrection a reality? Did God love? (Slight pause.) What is truth? (Slight pause.) Did God love that much? What is truth? Amen.

04/24/2011 - Easter Sunday
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 am sure the well known American composer Irving Berlin was a nice fellow. He wrote Easter Parade, he wrote It’s a Lovely Day, Happy Easter, but these are not Christian sentiments. If someone walks up to you today and says, ‘Happy Easter’ shake their hand and say, ‘Christ is risen.’ ‘Happy Easter’ is very secular.”

Sermon ~ 04/10/2011 ~ Mortal Bones in the Present Dominion ~ Fifth Sunday in Lent

04/10/2011 ~ Fifth Sunday in Lent ~ Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45.

Mortal Bones in the Present Dominion

“Jesus... then cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’” — John 11:43.

Most of you have heard me say this before and some of you have heard me say it at least 50 times. I met one Bonnie Scott in the fog on an island off the coast of Maine in 1987. That meeting, that chance encounter, changed our lives.

She, of course, lived in Brunswick, Maine. I lived in New York City. A little more than a year later, September of 1988, I moved to Maine and we got married.

But my personal journey toward being open to even meeting Bonnie started the year before we met, 1986. That’s the aspect of the story on which I want to concentrate. I believe some of what happened that year provided the space for our encounter.

The part of my personal journey I want to talk about has to do with the work, the ministry I was doing as a member of the laity at the church I attended in New York City. To be clear, the important phrase in what I just said was the reference to my work as (quote): “a member of the laity.”

At that time I belonged to All Angels Episcopal Church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I’d like to explain some of that aforementioned work by describing what a typical Sunday looked like for me.

I’d get to the church on a Sunday morning at about 7:45. The church is on West 80th Street, between Broadway and West End Avenue, just around the corner from Zabar’s, the best known delicatessen in the City.

Having arrived at the church, I would grab a hand cart, go to Zabar’s and, since it would not yet be open, knock on the door. They were always expecting me.

Why? I would pick up their day old bread, bread they could no longer sell— boxes of it. Sometimes there would be just one cart load, sometimes two or three.

We used the bread for the soup kitchen at the church. At 1:00 p.m. on Sundays we would feed between 200 and 250 people. Some were homeless. Some were just hungry. Some were simply hungry for companionship.

Companionship was an important aspect of this. We made sure a member of the church sat at each table, just to talk.

I was always finished the bread run by 8:15. That is when leaders for the services of worship on that day— clergy, musicians, choir members, lay readers, liturgists, chalice bearers— gathered in the office of the rector, the pastor for prayer.

We would pray for the members of the community of faith who might attend a service that day and for those who Would not. We would pray for those who would be fed at the soup kitchen, pray for any personal concerns, pray for the concerns of the community. We would then scurry off to prepare for the service— musicians to rehearse, liturgists to look at the readings, the pastor to brush up her sermon.

There were two services, one at 9:30 and one at 10:45. I coordinated the Lay Readers and Chalice Bearers. I kept the rota, the schedule of the people who would participate in the liturgy. I was also often, myself, involved in one service or the other in those liturgical functions.

When I was not involved in the liturgy, I was involved with the choir. And, of course, I would sometimes write an anthem for the choir with my good friend Paul Lee Johnson.

After the second service a group would get the church hall ready for the soup kitchen meal. Most Sundays people would have started preparing soup by 11:00 a.m. And yes, the fare was soup and the bread I had earlier dragged around from Zabar’s. Some Sundays I would stay and help out at the soup kitchen.

A couple of years after the soup kitchen started, the church began to offer a 7:00 p.m. service. The constituency that service served tended to be the homeless and those came to the soup kitchen. Once in a while, I would hang out for that service too.

Sunday night the church had 10 beds set up for homeless men in conjunction— they did this in conjunction with another shelter with another shelter— which was closed on that night. I occasionally helped staff that.

Wednesday evenings was the other big ‘church day’ for me. There was a brief service at 5:30 followed by a ‘bring you own bag dinner’ and Bible Study. Most of the time that ran until about 8:30. (Slight pause.)

So, what was it that happened in 1986, the year before I met Bonnie which seemed to empower that meeting? (Slight pause.) I had a clear sense God was calling me to a different ministry, perhaps even to a different place.

So I started to give away what I was doing. Another person took over the bread run. I trained someone else on scheduling lay readers.

I kept giving stuff away not knowing why I was doing that, just knowing I needed to do that. And then I met Bonnie and my life changed.

But what I am trying to say is this call, this sense was, in the long run, not just about getting married and moving, even though that obviously a big part of it. And even though I wound up going to Seminary once I moved to Maine, this is not about the fact that I eventually went off to seminary. This is about ministry, lay ministry.

You see, when I moved to Brunswick and joined First Parish Church, United Church of Christ, I became a member of their Christian Education Board. In the church school I taught the Middle School level students. I became the Church representative on a senior citizens non-profit housing board.

All these ministries were very, very different than the ones with which I had been involved before. And they were all just as valid.

Yes, my personal life changed with the move. And my involvement in ministry changed also. (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the Gospel commonly called John: “Jesus... then cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’” (Slight pause.)

If you have attended an Easter Sunday Service I’ve conducted its likely you have heard me say words like these: Resurrection is not about resuscitation or reanimation. Resurrection is what it says it is: Resurrection— something so different it cannot be explained with mere language. (Slight pause.)

In contrast to Resurrection, it could be argued that the story of Lazarus is about resuscitation or reanimation. But I would also suggest the writer of John is at least a little ambiguous on that count, and rightfully so.

In terms of meaning, there are other possibilities. One has to do with the location of the story in the Gospel of John. Given its place, given its sequence in the whole Gospel, this story is the last public act of ministry offered by Jesus.

Hence, despite the fact that Lazarus does emerge from the grave, I would suggest the story is not about resuscitation nor is it about reanimation nor is it even about a miracle. The story is about... ministry. It is about the call of Jesus to us concerning ministry.

Jesus shouts: “Lazarus, come out!” But come out to do what? This Lazarus is not a resurrected Lazarus. This Lazarus, who Jesus loved, will eventually die. Jesus knows that. Still Jesus shouts: “Lazarus, come out!” (Slight pause.)

You see, for Lazarus there is still more ministry to be done. Do we know what that will be? No. We don’t. But I see no reason to doubt it will happened. (Slight pause.)

If there is one thing of which I am convinced, it is this: each of us has ministry to do. Each community of faith has ministry to do.

Do I know what that ministry is? No. I don’t. Each person and each community of faith needs to figure that out for themselves. And, over time, that ministry is likely to change.

And what ministries might these be? Well, here’s a couple of examples: It may be working in a soup kitchen or teaching at Middle School level in the Church School.

In this church, it may be helping with the Thanksgiving Basket Drive. Or it may be offering leadership in the course of worship, singing in the choir, being a liturgist.

It may be visiting a parishioner who is ill or home bound or in a nursing facility. It may be doing coffee hour. It may be joining one of our Missions Committees or filling a gap on a standing committee.

The choices we have are multiple. The calls we have are a multitude. But this I guarantee: we are all called to do. (Slight pause.)

Perhaps the real question for us in this reading is this: what is the call of Jesus to us? It seems clear to me the call of Jesus to Lazarus was not about resuscitation or reanimation.

The call of Jesus to Lazarus and to us is about ministry. In short, each of us and all of us, are called to the work of ministry in the name of the one Triune God.

Are we willing to hear that call? Are we willing to accept that call? Are we willing to respond to that call? (The pastor points to a lit candle used during the Children’s Time.) Are we willing to let our light shone? [1] Amen.

04/10/2011
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 (the Pastor again points at the candle used at the Children’s Time): “That we might be a light to the world is, of course, one of the prime sayings, slogans of the Protestant Reformation. The other is that we are a priesthood of all believers, thereby empowered, each of us, to do God’s work.”

[1] At the Children’s Time the pastor lit a candle and said if you’ve ever been in a church building you realize churches have a lot of candles. Sometimes they are used to signify the presence of the Spirit or the Spirit of the Christ. But another possibility was they signify our own spirit which we need to let shine by doing the work of God.

APRIL NEWSLETTER - LETTER TO THE CHURCH

Dear Friends in Christ,

The Rt. Rev. Kirk S. Smith, Episcopal Bishop of Arizona recently posted an article on the web page of that diocese. It’s about a topic in which all churches have an interest. The topic was how to get more young people in church. The content of that article (the lightly edited main points are below) will surprise many. This is the step-by-step plan offered by the Bishop.

1. Be genuine. Do not, under any circumstances, try to be trendy or hip, if you are not already intrinsically trendy or hip. If you are a 90-year-old woman who enjoys crocheting and listens to Beethoven, by God be proud of it.
2. Stop pretending you have a rock band.
3. Stop arguing about whether gay people are okay, fully human, or whatever else. Stop it. (Note: we’ve been there and done that.) Stop arguing about whether women are okay, fully human, or are capable of being in a position of leadership. Stop it. (Second note: we’ve been there and done that.)
4. Stop looking for the “objective truth” in Scripture; start looking for the beautiful truth in Scripture.
5. Actually read the Scriptures. Buy a Bible; read it. Start in Genesis; it’s pretty cool. You can skip some of the other boring parts. Do remember almost every book of the Bible has some really funky stuff in it, so keep #4 in mind. (If you have been taking Scripture literally, you may need to stop reading the Bible for about 10 years. Don’t worry— during those 10 years you can work on putting these other steps into practice.)
6. Start worrying about extreme poverty, violence against women, racism, consumerism and the rate at which children are dying worldwide of preventable, treatable diseases. Put all your energy into figuring out ways to do some good in these areas.
7. Do not shy away from all forms of worship: lighting candles, silence, laughter and extraordinary music. By “extraordinary music” I mean genuine, soulful, well-written, well-composed, original, four-part, unison, a capella, Gospel, funky-retro-organ, steel guitar, kazoo, Bluegrass, Taize music— all kinds of songs, hymns, cantatas, oratorios and anthems. Remember this: we are the church; we have a rich history of amazing music through which we worship God.
8. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
9. Learn how to sit with people who are dying.
10. Feast as much as possible. Cardboard communion wafers or bread cubes are a feast in symbol only. Humans can not live on symbols alone.
11. Notice visitors and smile genuinely at them, include them in conversations but do not overwhelm them.
12. Be vulnerable.
13. Stop worrying about getting young people into the church. Stop worrying about marketing strategies, building campaigns, parking lot expansions, etc. Take a deep breath. If there is a God, that God isn’t going to die.
14. Figure out who is suffering in your community. Go to them.
15. Remind yourself that you don’t have to take God to anyone. God is already with everyone.
16. Put time, care and energy into creating a beautiful space for worship and a wonderful service of worship. It is a time for being-together. Remember: your presence in worship is what makes worship live.
17. Make some part of the church building accessible for people to pray 24/7. Put some blankets there too, in case someone has nowhere else to go for the night.
18. Listen to the Wisdom and the Love of God more than you speak your opinions.
This is a fool-proof plan. If you do it, I guarantee that you will attract young people to your church. And lots of other kinds of people too. The end.

We are in the Season of Lent but before the next Newsletter is published Easter will be celebrated. Let us remember that in observing the Feast of Easter, the Feast of the Resurrection, we are not celebrating the institution known as the church. The church is merely and only a human institution.
The mission of that human institution is transformation— transforming lives. That is a message of the Resurrection. Lives are and can be transformed. Why? How?
Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity, is the Christ, the Messiah, Risen, alive. When we, the church, remain focused on that truth and on that reality, the institution known as the Church will flourish.

In Faith,

Joe Connolly

Sermon ~ 04/03/2011 ~ Fourth Sunday in Lent ~ Children of Light

04/03/2011 ~ Fourth Sunday in Lent ~ 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41 ~ Communion Sunday — Used Lent Communion ~ One Great Hour of Sharing.

Children of Light

“There was a time when you were darkness, but now you are light in Christ. Live as children of light. Light produces every kind of goodness, indeed the fruit of the light is every kind of goodness and justice and truth.” — Ephesians 5:8-9


My late mother was born in Brooklyn, New York, in December of 1924. Hence, before my mother was five, the Great Depression hit. I also need to add that her father died shortly before her birth.

So my Mother was raised by a single Mother in an era of severe economic stress. My grandmother was not well educated or skilled and, when she did work, she worked as a domestic, cleaning houses of those few who could afford such amenities in that era. This is a long way of saying that, in her childhood, during the Great Depression, when many were challenged by economic conditions, my Mother’s family lived in what can only be described as extreme poverty.

One of the things I remember my mother saying to her children— myself, my brother and my sister— probably saying this in an effort to let us know that we were, by comparison, well off, is that every day when she would walk home from elementary school, she did not know if she would see her mother on the street in front of their apartment with a couple of pieces of furniture, having been evicted for non-payment of rent. She said this often enough to make me think she experienced that situation more than once.

Despite those circumstances, it was also clear to me she knew, even at a young age, that she had to move forward one day at a time, she had to try, every day, to make things better than they were the previous day for those she loved. And by the time she had a family of her own, those she loved clearly included my brother, my sister and me. I sometimes wonder if I can live up to her example. (Slight pause.)

One of the things I suspected she also knew, though I never heard her put it quite this way, is that life cannot be judged or viewed in a linear way. Life cannot be viewed as a story of triumph or a story of failure. Life is a journey. It unfolds day by day. You meet the challenges life presents, you do your best, you keep going. (Slight pause.)

Tomorrow, April 4th, is the 43rd anniversary of the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr. King was born in 1920. He grew up in an era when African-Americans were systemically denied all kinds of rights. The rights they were denied included the right to vote, the right of free assembly, the right to sit at a non-segregated lunch counter, the right to ride on a non-segregated bus.

Dr. King’s writings tell us he did not really know what hit him when he was thrust, at a fairly young age, into a leadership role in the Civil Rights movement. All he could do was feel his way forward, one day at a time, every day trying to do what was right, trying to make things better than they were the previous day.

Today the President of the United States is an African-American. Are we to the promised land King envisioned yet? Probably not. King envisioned not just equal rights and equal opportunity but a place where the weak are cared for and the poor protected from the ravages of greed and systemically inflicted poverty.

I believe Dr. King knew life cannot be viewed or judged in a linear way. Life cannot be viewed as a story of triumph or a story of failure. Life is a journey. It unfolds day by day. You meet the challenges life presents, you do your best, you keep going. (Slight pause.)

Seven weeks ago in a sermon I said this (quote): “We— humans— tend to be risk averse. We like to reduce risk.” Then, in reference to the situation in the Middle East, I said (quote): “...if truth be told... the foreign policy of... any nation including ours, has nothing to do with freedom or lack thereof nor with forms of governments from democracies to dictatorships.”

“You can talk all you want to about ideals, but a sound foreign policy hates... risk. A sound foreign policy has everything to do with trying to ensure stability.”

But, of course, stability is not just a goal of foreign policy. Stability is something most everyone seeks in life.

Now, over the last several weeks we have witnessed even more turmoil in the Middle East. We have witnessed a major earthquake and a devastating tsunami in the Far East. Because of the earthquake and the tsunami, a nuclear power plant has had a crisis.

As a result of all that, I think many have been left feeling uneasy, many have been left feeling that stability on the world front and even personal stability is at best fleeting. (Slight pause.) So, what is stability? Does stability mean we are in control or does it mean something else? (Slight pause.)

And these words are from the work known as Ephesians: “There was a time when you were darkness, but now you are light in Christ. Live as children of light. Light produces every kind of goodness, indeed the fruit of the light is every kind of goodness and justice and truth.” (Slight pause.)

How can we live as (quote): “children of light”? What does it mean to be children of light and to then see the fruit of light as goodness and justice and truth? In short, what is real stability? (Slight pause.)

I want to suggest that real stability does not mean we are in control. Real stability means we come to a realization that life cannot be viewed or judged in a linear way. Stability has nothing to do with seeing life as a story of triumph or a story of failure.

Real stability has to do with seeing life as a journey. It unfolds day by day by day. You meet the challenges life presents, you do your best, you keep going. (Slight pause.)

Every time any church celebrates the Sacrament of Communion, the very act brings the crucifixion to mind. The form of the Sacrament we used earlier, the one we often use during Lent, does so in a stark way. The crucifixion should remind us of instability.

But equally, every time a church celebrates the Sacrament of Communion it should remind us that the story does not end with the crucifixion, the murder of Jesus. The story continues and in the Sacrament we are lead to know the Resurrection, the presence of the Christ in the breaking of the bread and the taste of the cup. The Sacrament, thereby, should remind us of the journey of life experienced by the Christ.

Life, you see, cannot be simply viewed or judged in a linear way. Stability, real stability, has nothing to do with seeing life as a story of triumph or a story of failure.

Real stability has to do with seeing life as a journey. It unfolds day by day by day. You meet the challenges life presents, you do your best, you keep going. Why?

Because we strive to (quote): “Live as children of light. Light produces every kind of goodness, indeed the fruit of the light is every kind of goodness and justice and truth.” Amen.

04/03/2011
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: “It has been said that the mission of church is transformation. That is not just a transformation of us. That means a transformation of the world. But it does need to start with us and move out from us to the world. That takes time. Indeed, we must remember what the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said: “Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” In short, we need to be open, daily to what God will do in us and through us.”