02/26/2017 ~ Transfiguration Sunday ~ Last Sunday before Lent ~ Exodus 24:12-18; Psalm 2 or Psalm 99; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9.
Kabod
“Then the Glory of God came to dwell, settled on Mount Sinai. The cloud covered the mountain for six days; on the seventh day God called to Moses out of the cloud.” — Exodus 24:16.
I am sure I have mentioned from this pulpit at least 100 times that Bonnie and I met on an island off the coast of Maine, a property that has been in Bonnie’s extended family since 1898. We met there in the Summer of 1987 and got married a year later.
This property, being an island off the coast of Maine, is incredibly beautiful. I may be prejudiced, but I think pretty much the whole state of Maine is gorgeous. I have no greater authority to back up that claim than my brother.
My brother had a career working first for the Department of Environmental Conservation and then for the Adirondack Park Agency here in New York State. He and his family live in the Saranac Lake area. In terms of beauty, that area is certainly one of the most spectacular places in our fair state.
That having been said, the first time Jim visited us up in Maine he was overwhelmed by its beauty. Just to reinforce what my brother thinks of Maine, since he first visited he and his family have actually chosen to vacation there a number of times. That fact alone is a testament to the natural beauty to be found in the State of Maine.
Having mentioned Bonnie and I met on this island, I need to mention one of draw backs of being on an island off the coast of Maine: an atmospheric condition. That atmospheric condition is called fog.
Why do you get fog, especially on the coast and just off the coast of Maine? The current known as the Gulf Stream, a relatively warm flow of water, heads north just off the coast of the state. The current known as the Labrador Current, a relatively cold flow of water, heads south just off the coast of Maine.
The two slam into one another right there, just off the coast of Maine. The temperature difference between the two creates a temperature inversion which produces the phenomena known as fog. Maine and fog— if you look up those two words I believe you will find most text books list them as being synonyms.
In any case, back in 1987 Bonnie and I arrived on the island with a group of folks on the morning of Saturday on July 11th just as the fog was rolling in. Now when I say fog, we are talking about thick Maine fog here. Maine fog is better known as pea soup. Being able to see 30 feet is pretty good visibility.
And so, on Saturday the fog rolled in. On Sunday the fog remained, all day. And the fog was still there on Monday, all day. And the fog continued to envelop us on Tuesday, all day.
Some of us, having played at least 1,000 games of charades and some of us having read War and Peace... at least twice through... all of us on the island were close to stir crazy when Wednesday morning dawned... bright, sunny, blue, not a cloud in the sky with a dead calm wind. The surface of the ocean was as smooth as glass.
And the outdoor activities began. Some of us hiked around the island. Despite the temperature of the ocean off the coast of Maine some decided swimming was the way to release pent up energy.
I don’t know who suggested it but either Bonnie asked me or I asked Bonnie if taking a canoe out into Penobscot Bay together was an acceptable activity. We agreed and so that’s what we did.
We grabbed a couple of life jackets, paddles and out into the bay we went. The aforementioned ocean was still as smooth as glass.
Quite a ways out the both of us heard a noise. Simultaneously we stopped paddling and remained silent. Again, there was no wind so it was very quiet.
Then at once we were surrounded by porpoises. They were on our right. They were on our left, backs humped out of the water, spouting water, making noise. And then it was suddenly quite again. And then several minutes later exactly the same thing happened one more time. (Slight pause.)
I hope you won’t think this is an overstatement. Both Bonnie and I thought of this and still think of this as a “God moment,” something that happens at a time and in a place were there was and is a sense of the love of God as it was and as it is expressed through the creation of God, a time when and a place where we had a sense of the real presence of God.
I am actually of the opinion that God moments— times when and places where the real presence of God is with us— occur often. I am also of the opinion that most of the time we are too distracted to be aware of these God moments. (Slight pause.)
These words are found in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Tanakh, in the section known as the Torah in the work commonly referred to as Exodus: “Then the Glory of God came to dwell, settled on Mount Sinai. The cloud covered the mountain for six days; on the seventh day God called to Moses out of the cloud.” (Slight pause.)
Fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be it seems to me in our society movies instruct us about what the real presence of God might feel like or look like. These artistic ideas run from serious representations in films like The Ten Commandments to comedic representations, such as God being played George Burns in Oh, God! or by Jim Carey in Bruce Almighty.
I want to suggest the problem is not these artistic expressions in and of themselves. I think the problem is we buy into these representations lock, stock and barrel as explanations of what God might look like or feel like instead striving to understand God on our own terms, instead of being aware of our own experiences of God, instead of being sensitive to the presence of God in our lives.
The words we hear in Exodus say that the Glory of God came to dwell on Mount Sinai for six days and, obviously, based on the description, there was a cloud. Who knows? It may have even been fog.
But what is the Glory of God? What does that phrase mean? (Slight pause.) The underlying Hebrew word we translate as the Glory of God is Kabod— k, a, b, o, d is the transliteration.
Now, in Hebrew what any word means often depends on the context of how a word is used. Hence, there is no one way to translate any specific word with exactness outside of the context, something which makes Hebrew a very hard language to learn and to translate.
In any case, among other things, Kabod can mean importance, honor and majesty. These are all significant ways of understanding that word. But in the context of Mount Sinai it’s likely what Kabod means is the real and full presence of God.
And so what this story calls the real presence of God, the Kabod, comes and dwells on the mountain for six days. And there is a cloud. And nothing happens, or at least nothing is recorded as happening, except the real presence of God, the Kabod, is there.
And then Moses goes into the cloud for forty days and forty nights. And nothing happens. Or at least nothing is recorded as happening, except the real presence of God, the Kabod, is there. (Slight pause.)
When this reading was introduced it was said this is a story of a theophany, a manifestation of the presence of God. It was said we, too often, approach such narratives in awe and wonder about how God manifests God’s own self, be it in a cloud, in a burst of light, in a burning bush, instead of being in awe and wonder about the amazing fact that God is willing to make God’s own presence known.
In short, we become distracted. Like buying into movie narratives about God, too often we concentrate on the artistic details in the narration and rather than on the fact that real presence of God, the Kabod, is with us, is among us. (Slight pause.)
Let me throw something out for your consideration. Suppose you are on an island off the coast of Maine and some pea soup fog rolls in for four days straight.
And suppose you are bored silly. Despite the fact that you are bored silly, here is a key question: is God in the fog? (Slight pause.)
My point is no matter how many games of charades you play and no matter how many Russian novels you consume— God is there, God is here. The full presence of God is with you, with us, no matter when, no matter where. (Slight pause.)
I suppose that still leaves an obvious question: what is this full presence of God? Where is the full presence of God to be found? (Slight pause.) Let me be so bold as to suggest the full presence of God is found, among other places, in joy, equity, hope, peace, freedom, truth, love.
And, rumor to the contrary and even contrary to the messages we get from society, God relies on us— you and me— to embody the joy, equity, hope, peace, freedom, truth and love of God. I also think, if we strive to embody the joy, equity, hope, peace, freedom, truth and love of God a strange yet wonderful thing happens.
The Kabod of God, the real presence of God, breaks through our consciousness when we strive to embody these aspects of God. The Kabod of God can be and will be seen in our distracted lives when we do this with some real regularity. And when we work with God on embodying the joy, equity, hope, peace, freedom, truth and love— especially the love of God— we become much more aware that God is with us always, at all times and in every place. Amen.
02/26/2017
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 Choral Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “Bonnie has always said if she had left after the fog lifted we may never have seen one another again. After all, the only thing she knew about me at that point was I was terrible at charades. But that segment of the story, my friends, is not about the presence of God but about God’s timing and that’s another sermon— God’s timing. I will say this, however— I believe we are called to strive to embody the joy, equity, hope, peace, freedom, truth and love of God. And unless we do that an in so doing recognize of the presence of God, God’s timing and God’s time will never be given a chance, never be seen, never be acknowledged.”
Benediction: Let us go in joy and in love and in peace, for our hope is in the one who has made covenant with us. God reigns. Let us go in God’s peace. And may the face of God shine upon us; may the peace of Christ rule among us; may the fire of the Spirit burn within us this day and forevermore. Amen.
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Sunday, February 19, 2017
SERMON ~ 02/19/2017 ~ “The Bad and the Good, the Just and the Unjust”
02/19/2017 ~ Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany ~ Known in Some Traditions as the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40; 1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23; Matthew 5:38-48.
The Bad and the Good, the Just and the Unjust
“For God makes the sun rise on the bad and on the good alike— God makes the sun rise on those who are in a right relationship with God and those who are not in a right relationship with God— alike; and God sends rain and it falls on the just and on the unjust alike.” — Matthew 5:45b
I want to tell a story about something which happened when I was thirteen. I could go into a long, complex explanation as to why I know when this happened but suffice it to say it happened when I was thirteen.
When this incident happened I was home alone, not in school, and it was mid-week. My brother and sister were not there, so they were probably in school. Was I sick? Did my school have off that day? I don’t remember.
In any case, I was home alone. One reason I was alone is my mother, who might have been home otherwise, had an appointment with a doctor, the family doctor. Our family had recently moved from Brooklyn— Bushwick, Brooklyn, to be precise— to Queens— Woodhaven, Queens, to be precise. But our doctor was back down in Brooklyn— Williamsburg, Brooklyn, to be precise. That was about a forty-five minutes away by subway.
So, I was home and Mom was out. I decided that, as a surprise for my mother, I would take it on myself to clean the bathroom— the floor, the tub, the sink, the toilet.
That I would take on such a task might lead you to believe I was a good boy. You would be wrong about that which is exactly why this would have been a surprise to my mother. In any case, I got the first three done— the floor, the tub, the sink— in short order and then tackled the toilet.
Part way through that exercise I tried to lift the porcelain top off the back tank. My hands were wet. I had, after all, been cleaning things.
The top of the tank slipped from my grip, fell to the floor and shattered into multiple pieces. Now I have no idea how this happened but a fairly thin, quite sharp, very large shard of porcelain, about two inches long, bounced up and landed— or rather stuck— a little like the point of a knife— in the center of my left palm.
I did what any upstanding thirteen year old boy would do. For a moment— probably longer— I just stared, with something bordering on overwhelming interest in the spectacle of this sharp object protruding from my hand, this piece of porcelain hanging from my palm.
Being a thirteen year old I suppose I did not know enough to be frightened. I then pulled that knife-like shard out of my palm. At that point the wound, of course, started to bleed profusely.
To be clear, I think realized right away this was not a particularly serious wound. And I knew enough to apply pressure to try to make the bleeding stop. I was in a bathroom. I used plenty of towels to assist in that. (Slight pause.)
Once I had slowed the flow of blood to a trickle I decided it would be a good idea to call my mother just to let her know what had happened. And I knew where she was. She was at the doctor’s office.
Once I got her on the line I explained what was up. She, wisely, put the doctor on the phone. He questioned me about what had happened, what I had done in response to the accident and the current nature of the wound. He seemed satisfied that there was no immediate danger and told me my mother would be home soon.
And she made it home with surprising speed. I suspect she hailed a cab instead of waiting for the subway.
It was at that point, when my Mom arrived home, that the emotional trauma hit me. That brave thirteen year old cried when I saw her.
Those tears were not about the injury. In fact, the diagnoses of the injury, even though it was made by the doctor over the phone, sight unseen, was right on. The wound was minor.
No— the tears were not about the injury. The tears were about ‘why?’ Why did that happen to me, why when I was trying to do something nice, trying to be helpful did this happen. Why? (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the Gospel we have come to call Matthew: “For God makes the sun rise on the bad and on the good alike— God makes the sun rise on those who are in a right relationship with God and those who are not in a right relationship with God— alike; and God sends rain and it falls on the just and on the unjust alike.” (Slight pause.)
Back in the 19th Century, Charles Bowen, who was a member of the upper class in Britain and a Judge was also an occasional author. He composed a doggerel which is more playful than Matthew’s composition and it says something similar to what Matthew offered. It is not quite the same, but similar, and a little snappier perhaps.
It reads like this: “The rain— it raineth on the just / And also— it raineth the unjust fella; / But chiefly it raineth on the just, because— / The unjust fella hath the just fella’s umbrella.” (Slight pause.)
Whereas I do not doubt that to be true, neither do I think that this is the point Matthew is making. I think many of us, Judge Bowen included, presume these words are about some kind of dichotomy between the just and the unjust, some kind of unfairness between the two.
There is one problem with that. As was stated earlier, this Gospel passage must be seen in the context of The Sermon on the Mount. [2] Hence, a key question becomes ‘what is The Sermon on the Mount about— really?’
You may remember The Sermon on the Mount starts with The Beatitudes. The list starts with this (quote:), “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit; / the dominion of heaven is theirs.” One of the last sayings in that list says this (quote:) “Blessed are those who are persecuted / because of their struggle for justice / the dominion of heaven is theirs.” (Slight pause.)
Two things need to be noted. First, popular perception to the contrary, nearly every one of these sayings address human struggle. Second, these are about our relationship with God. Which leads us to the question, what is being addressed in terms of relationship? (Slight pause.)
This was also said earlier and here is no doubting this: taken in its entirety, The Sermon on the Mount is daunting not because of the standards it sets. [3] The Sermon on the Mount is daunting because these words are written in a specific context: the proclamation that Jesus is the Messiah.
The proclamation that Jesus is the Messiah announces the approaching dawn of the reign of God. Hence, a question for us becomes are we willing to listen and to act on that, the approaching dawn of the reign of God?
All that brings me back to my thirteen year old self. Yes, I felt somehow violated by the universe. But I’ve lived long enough to know that you are likely to feel violated by the universe with some regularity.
I’ve also lived long enough to know that blaming the unjust can often be right. But blaming God is probably a mistake. You see, God wants to be in relationship with us.
Why? As The Beatitudes clearly tell us, God needs us to work toward justice— and that means justice for all people, in this world, God’s world. God needs us to work toward peace, and that means peace for all people, in this, God’s world.
God needs us to work toward freedom, and that means freedom for all people, in this, God’s world. God needs us to seek truth, and that means truth for all people, in this, God’s world. (Slight pause.)
And that, I think, might lead us to an obvious question. Are we, as frail as we are, as human as we are, able to seek justice, peace, freedom, truth for all people?
I think so. You see Matthew says we— we— that means everyone— we need to be in right relationship. What is right relationship? Love— loving God, loving neighbor.
Right relationship with God and neighbor, loving God and loving neighbor— perhaps that is the place, the path on which and where justice, peace, freedom, truth are available. Indeed, Matthew is also clear on another count.
No one said that when we are on that path called right relationship— when we are on that path called love on which and where justice, peace, freedom, truth are available— no one said that path would be easy. Of course, if you ask some thirteen year old boy about how hard the world can be I’d bet you’d get a similar answer. Life... ain’t... easy. Amen.
02/19/2017
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 Choral Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “Life ain’t easy. Really? Even so, Matthew’s Gospel calls us to an interesting, indeed a challenging standard. (Quote:) “...be perfect as Abba, God, in heaven is perfect.”
BENEDICTION: Let us recognize that the transforming power of the love God offers is forever among us. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be so in awe of God that we are in awe of no one else and nothing else. Amen.
[1] This doggerel is slightly altered for this context.
[2] This was stated when the passage was introduced at the time of the reading of the Gospel.
[3] This was said when the reading of the Gospel was introduced.
The Bad and the Good, the Just and the Unjust
“For God makes the sun rise on the bad and on the good alike— God makes the sun rise on those who are in a right relationship with God and those who are not in a right relationship with God— alike; and God sends rain and it falls on the just and on the unjust alike.” — Matthew 5:45b
I want to tell a story about something which happened when I was thirteen. I could go into a long, complex explanation as to why I know when this happened but suffice it to say it happened when I was thirteen.
When this incident happened I was home alone, not in school, and it was mid-week. My brother and sister were not there, so they were probably in school. Was I sick? Did my school have off that day? I don’t remember.
In any case, I was home alone. One reason I was alone is my mother, who might have been home otherwise, had an appointment with a doctor, the family doctor. Our family had recently moved from Brooklyn— Bushwick, Brooklyn, to be precise— to Queens— Woodhaven, Queens, to be precise. But our doctor was back down in Brooklyn— Williamsburg, Brooklyn, to be precise. That was about a forty-five minutes away by subway.
So, I was home and Mom was out. I decided that, as a surprise for my mother, I would take it on myself to clean the bathroom— the floor, the tub, the sink, the toilet.
That I would take on such a task might lead you to believe I was a good boy. You would be wrong about that which is exactly why this would have been a surprise to my mother. In any case, I got the first three done— the floor, the tub, the sink— in short order and then tackled the toilet.
Part way through that exercise I tried to lift the porcelain top off the back tank. My hands were wet. I had, after all, been cleaning things.
The top of the tank slipped from my grip, fell to the floor and shattered into multiple pieces. Now I have no idea how this happened but a fairly thin, quite sharp, very large shard of porcelain, about two inches long, bounced up and landed— or rather stuck— a little like the point of a knife— in the center of my left palm.
I did what any upstanding thirteen year old boy would do. For a moment— probably longer— I just stared, with something bordering on overwhelming interest in the spectacle of this sharp object protruding from my hand, this piece of porcelain hanging from my palm.
Being a thirteen year old I suppose I did not know enough to be frightened. I then pulled that knife-like shard out of my palm. At that point the wound, of course, started to bleed profusely.
To be clear, I think realized right away this was not a particularly serious wound. And I knew enough to apply pressure to try to make the bleeding stop. I was in a bathroom. I used plenty of towels to assist in that. (Slight pause.)
Once I had slowed the flow of blood to a trickle I decided it would be a good idea to call my mother just to let her know what had happened. And I knew where she was. She was at the doctor’s office.
Once I got her on the line I explained what was up. She, wisely, put the doctor on the phone. He questioned me about what had happened, what I had done in response to the accident and the current nature of the wound. He seemed satisfied that there was no immediate danger and told me my mother would be home soon.
And she made it home with surprising speed. I suspect she hailed a cab instead of waiting for the subway.
It was at that point, when my Mom arrived home, that the emotional trauma hit me. That brave thirteen year old cried when I saw her.
Those tears were not about the injury. In fact, the diagnoses of the injury, even though it was made by the doctor over the phone, sight unseen, was right on. The wound was minor.
No— the tears were not about the injury. The tears were about ‘why?’ Why did that happen to me, why when I was trying to do something nice, trying to be helpful did this happen. Why? (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the Gospel we have come to call Matthew: “For God makes the sun rise on the bad and on the good alike— God makes the sun rise on those who are in a right relationship with God and those who are not in a right relationship with God— alike; and God sends rain and it falls on the just and on the unjust alike.” (Slight pause.)
Back in the 19th Century, Charles Bowen, who was a member of the upper class in Britain and a Judge was also an occasional author. He composed a doggerel which is more playful than Matthew’s composition and it says something similar to what Matthew offered. It is not quite the same, but similar, and a little snappier perhaps.
It reads like this: “The rain— it raineth on the just / And also— it raineth the unjust fella; / But chiefly it raineth on the just, because— / The unjust fella hath the just fella’s umbrella.” (Slight pause.)
Whereas I do not doubt that to be true, neither do I think that this is the point Matthew is making. I think many of us, Judge Bowen included, presume these words are about some kind of dichotomy between the just and the unjust, some kind of unfairness between the two.
There is one problem with that. As was stated earlier, this Gospel passage must be seen in the context of The Sermon on the Mount. [2] Hence, a key question becomes ‘what is The Sermon on the Mount about— really?’
You may remember The Sermon on the Mount starts with The Beatitudes. The list starts with this (quote:), “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit; / the dominion of heaven is theirs.” One of the last sayings in that list says this (quote:) “Blessed are those who are persecuted / because of their struggle for justice / the dominion of heaven is theirs.” (Slight pause.)
Two things need to be noted. First, popular perception to the contrary, nearly every one of these sayings address human struggle. Second, these are about our relationship with God. Which leads us to the question, what is being addressed in terms of relationship? (Slight pause.)
This was also said earlier and here is no doubting this: taken in its entirety, The Sermon on the Mount is daunting not because of the standards it sets. [3] The Sermon on the Mount is daunting because these words are written in a specific context: the proclamation that Jesus is the Messiah.
The proclamation that Jesus is the Messiah announces the approaching dawn of the reign of God. Hence, a question for us becomes are we willing to listen and to act on that, the approaching dawn of the reign of God?
All that brings me back to my thirteen year old self. Yes, I felt somehow violated by the universe. But I’ve lived long enough to know that you are likely to feel violated by the universe with some regularity.
I’ve also lived long enough to know that blaming the unjust can often be right. But blaming God is probably a mistake. You see, God wants to be in relationship with us.
Why? As The Beatitudes clearly tell us, God needs us to work toward justice— and that means justice for all people, in this world, God’s world. God needs us to work toward peace, and that means peace for all people, in this, God’s world.
God needs us to work toward freedom, and that means freedom for all people, in this, God’s world. God needs us to seek truth, and that means truth for all people, in this, God’s world. (Slight pause.)
And that, I think, might lead us to an obvious question. Are we, as frail as we are, as human as we are, able to seek justice, peace, freedom, truth for all people?
I think so. You see Matthew says we— we— that means everyone— we need to be in right relationship. What is right relationship? Love— loving God, loving neighbor.
Right relationship with God and neighbor, loving God and loving neighbor— perhaps that is the place, the path on which and where justice, peace, freedom, truth are available. Indeed, Matthew is also clear on another count.
No one said that when we are on that path called right relationship— when we are on that path called love on which and where justice, peace, freedom, truth are available— no one said that path would be easy. Of course, if you ask some thirteen year old boy about how hard the world can be I’d bet you’d get a similar answer. Life... ain’t... easy. Amen.
02/19/2017
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 Choral Response and Benediction. This is an précis of what was said: “Life ain’t easy. Really? Even so, Matthew’s Gospel calls us to an interesting, indeed a challenging standard. (Quote:) “...be perfect as Abba, God, in heaven is perfect.”
BENEDICTION: Let us recognize that the transforming power of the love God offers is forever among us. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be so in awe of God that we are in awe of no one else and nothing else. Amen.
[1] This doggerel is slightly altered for this context.
[2] This was stated when the passage was introduced at the time of the reading of the Gospel.
[3] This was said when the reading of the Gospel was introduced.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
SERMON ~ 02/05/2017 ~ “Your Light”
02/05/2017 ~ Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany ~ Known in Some Traditions as the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time ~ Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12) ; Psalm 112:1-9 (10); 1 Corinthians 2:1-12 (13-16); Matthew 5:13-20 ~ Communion Sunday.
Your Light
“Is not this the fast I choose, / the fast that pleases me: / that the bonds of injustice / be removed, / undo the thongs, / the rope of the yoke! / Let those who are oppressed go free, / and break every yoke you encounter! / Share your bread / with those who are hungry,...” — Isaiah 58:6-7a.
I have often said the Rev. Carol Anderson was one of my mentors in ministry. Carol was in the first class of women ordained in the Episcopal Church. In the sequence of those, she was the third ordained, the first in the New York Diocese.
In a newspaper interview around that time she was asked how people might address her: Reverend? Father? Mother? She responded, “My name is Carol.”
The interviewer pressed: should you not now be addressed with some title? She said nothing has changed with me, with who I am, with what I do. I have been working in ministry for years and my name has certainly not changed. I’m just a woman from New Jersey. And my name is Carol. (Slight pause.)
Carol was always clear about something else. She understood ordination is, or at least can be, a recognition of ministry someone is doing already or has done.
What had Carol already done? She had, for instance, gone to the South one Summer in the 60s to work on voter registration. Carol would be the first to say she made a small contribution to a larger effort. She helped at most a little more than hundred people whereas tens of thousands were registered.
One more item: Carol understood that, not for centuries but for millennia, many women felt called to ordained ministry and were not afforded that recognition. Since she did feel called to ordination she understood she was privileged to live in a time that afforded her recognition. But she, herself, felt the sum total of what she did was infinitesimal compared to what had been done by the many who had gone before her and were not allowed ordination.
And she also understood ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time. And, most importantly, she understood she was... simply... just... Carol— no... big... deal. (Slight pause.)
And so it came to pass that Carol served as Rector— that’s Episcopal talk for Pastor— Carol served as Rector at All Angels Episcopal Church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan where I was a member. And when I say Carol was a mentor as I said earlier, I tied to take to heart her lesson that ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time.
And so it came to pass that All Angels Church that we started a Sunday afternoon lunch for anyone who wanted to come. Mostly people who lived on the street, those without homes, showed up. But also some folks came who simply wanted companionship, social contact.
And so it came to pass that I would arrive at church around 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday, grab a push cart, go around the corner to Zabar’s Deli and pick up their day old bread— boxes and boxes of it. It was good bread but bread they would no longer sell to the public, it being a day old, bread which we would in turn serve with the meal on those Sunday afternoons.
Usually I could not hang out to help with those meals. But I could get the bread at 8:00 a.m. when no one else could. And every Sunday afternoon we, the members of the church, fed hundreds.
So I came to understand ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time, thereby being a part of something larger. And, by the way, I’m a guy from Brooklyn who has come to understand I’m simply... just... Joe— no... big... deal. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah: “Is not this the fast I choose, / the fast that pleases me: / that the bonds of injustice / be removed, / undo the thongs, / the rope of the yoke! / Let those who are oppressed go free, / and break every yoke you encounter! / Share your bread / with those who are hungry,...” (Slight pause.)
In my comments a couple of weeks ago I said we are a society that likes big. After all, our American baseball championship is not simply a championship between leagues. It’s called a World Series. Our American football championship game is not simply a game between conferences. We call it a Super Bowl.
And, as I said in those comments a couple of weeks ago, we live in a society that is used to big. Big is how we think. Our culture is uncomfortable with small. (Slight pause.)
You see, in the reading from Matthew Jesus says (quote:) “You are the light of the world.” In our modern way I believe we tend to think of, perhaps, artificial illumination when we hear those words. And we think it’s a bright light, a large light, an intense light.
However, Jesus goes onto say (quote:) “No one, after lighting a lamp, puts it under the bushel basket but on the lamp-stand,....” Jesus could just have easily said, “You light is like the Sun which breaks forth from the clouds on a dreary day.”
But that is not what Jesus said. Jesus said, “No one, after lighting a lamp, puts it under the bushel basket but on the lamp-stand,....” Given that era, how bright would that light have been?
Given that era, there are three things that lamp light would not be: bright, large, intense. But it would have been a light to the world because, as dim as it might have been compared to the Sun, it would be a light to help people see. And it would have been small light, a tiny light. (Slight pause.)
Now to reiterate, we are addicted to big. But I want to suggest ministry is small. Ministry is one person at a time doing what they can, when they can, where they can, as well as they can.
Equally, let me address what ministry is not. Ministry is not hiding in the shadows. Ministry is not being afraid of the night. Ministry means tackling problems.
The problems may be big. Indeed, problems may be and often are systemic, problems which are ingrained, so ingrained we may not even recognize them as problems. But ingrained problems are, by definition, big problems. And the only way to tackle something big is to start small, one step at a time.
Carol may have helped a little more than hundred people register to vote that Summer she spent in the South. And as those things go, that’s not a lot of people. But Carol did her part.
When I scooted around the corner to Zabar’s I picked up 8 or 10 boxes of bread and it took, maybe, a half an hour. As those things go, that’s not a lot of time, not a lot of effort. But the church fed hundreds every week. I did my part.
Ministry, you see, happens in these small steps. And therefore, ministry requires humility— let me say that again— ministry requires humility— the humility to say I am willing to do something small as a part of something larger. Ministry is, hence, often not valued by our society. After all, our society is used to big, likes big, thinks big and is quite uncomfortable with small. (Slight pause.)
Confession: I may not know a lot but I know this: every time I’m tempted to think ministry is about big I remind myself of a basic truth. I’m a guy from Brooklyn who has come to understand I’m just... simply... Joe— no... big... deal. Amen.
02/05/2017
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: “There is no question about this: there are systemic problems, big problems. But I do not care who you are or how important you think you are, you cannot fix the system from the top/down. But you can help make things work from the bottom/up. And bottom/up is the basic definition of two things. Bottom/up is the basic definition of who we are as a church: Congregational. And bottom/up is the basic definition of ministry.”
BENEDICTION: We are commissioned by God to carry the peace of God into the world. Our words and our deeds will be used by God, for we become messengers of the Word of God in our actions. Let us recognize that the transforming power of God is forever among us. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be so in awe of God that we are in awe of no one and nothing else. Amen.
Your Light
“Is not this the fast I choose, / the fast that pleases me: / that the bonds of injustice / be removed, / undo the thongs, / the rope of the yoke! / Let those who are oppressed go free, / and break every yoke you encounter! / Share your bread / with those who are hungry,...” — Isaiah 58:6-7a.
I have often said the Rev. Carol Anderson was one of my mentors in ministry. Carol was in the first class of women ordained in the Episcopal Church. In the sequence of those, she was the third ordained, the first in the New York Diocese.
In a newspaper interview around that time she was asked how people might address her: Reverend? Father? Mother? She responded, “My name is Carol.”
The interviewer pressed: should you not now be addressed with some title? She said nothing has changed with me, with who I am, with what I do. I have been working in ministry for years and my name has certainly not changed. I’m just a woman from New Jersey. And my name is Carol. (Slight pause.)
Carol was always clear about something else. She understood ordination is, or at least can be, a recognition of ministry someone is doing already or has done.
What had Carol already done? She had, for instance, gone to the South one Summer in the 60s to work on voter registration. Carol would be the first to say she made a small contribution to a larger effort. She helped at most a little more than hundred people whereas tens of thousands were registered.
One more item: Carol understood that, not for centuries but for millennia, many women felt called to ordained ministry and were not afforded that recognition. Since she did feel called to ordination she understood she was privileged to live in a time that afforded her recognition. But she, herself, felt the sum total of what she did was infinitesimal compared to what had been done by the many who had gone before her and were not allowed ordination.
And she also understood ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time. And, most importantly, she understood she was... simply... just... Carol— no... big... deal. (Slight pause.)
And so it came to pass that Carol served as Rector— that’s Episcopal talk for Pastor— Carol served as Rector at All Angels Episcopal Church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan where I was a member. And when I say Carol was a mentor as I said earlier, I tied to take to heart her lesson that ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time.
And so it came to pass that All Angels Church that we started a Sunday afternoon lunch for anyone who wanted to come. Mostly people who lived on the street, those without homes, showed up. But also some folks came who simply wanted companionship, social contact.
And so it came to pass that I would arrive at church around 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday, grab a push cart, go around the corner to Zabar’s Deli and pick up their day old bread— boxes and boxes of it. It was good bread but bread they would no longer sell to the public, it being a day old, bread which we would in turn serve with the meal on those Sunday afternoons.
Usually I could not hang out to help with those meals. But I could get the bread at 8:00 a.m. when no one else could. And every Sunday afternoon we, the members of the church, fed hundreds.
So I came to understand ministry is about doing one thing at a time, taking one step at a time, thereby being a part of something larger. And, by the way, I’m a guy from Brooklyn who has come to understand I’m simply... just... Joe— no... big... deal. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the Scroll of the Prophet Isaiah: “Is not this the fast I choose, / the fast that pleases me: / that the bonds of injustice / be removed, / undo the thongs, / the rope of the yoke! / Let those who are oppressed go free, / and break every yoke you encounter! / Share your bread / with those who are hungry,...” (Slight pause.)
In my comments a couple of weeks ago I said we are a society that likes big. After all, our American baseball championship is not simply a championship between leagues. It’s called a World Series. Our American football championship game is not simply a game between conferences. We call it a Super Bowl.
And, as I said in those comments a couple of weeks ago, we live in a society that is used to big. Big is how we think. Our culture is uncomfortable with small. (Slight pause.)
You see, in the reading from Matthew Jesus says (quote:) “You are the light of the world.” In our modern way I believe we tend to think of, perhaps, artificial illumination when we hear those words. And we think it’s a bright light, a large light, an intense light.
However, Jesus goes onto say (quote:) “No one, after lighting a lamp, puts it under the bushel basket but on the lamp-stand,....” Jesus could just have easily said, “You light is like the Sun which breaks forth from the clouds on a dreary day.”
But that is not what Jesus said. Jesus said, “No one, after lighting a lamp, puts it under the bushel basket but on the lamp-stand,....” Given that era, how bright would that light have been?
Given that era, there are three things that lamp light would not be: bright, large, intense. But it would have been a light to the world because, as dim as it might have been compared to the Sun, it would be a light to help people see. And it would have been small light, a tiny light. (Slight pause.)
Now to reiterate, we are addicted to big. But I want to suggest ministry is small. Ministry is one person at a time doing what they can, when they can, where they can, as well as they can.
Equally, let me address what ministry is not. Ministry is not hiding in the shadows. Ministry is not being afraid of the night. Ministry means tackling problems.
The problems may be big. Indeed, problems may be and often are systemic, problems which are ingrained, so ingrained we may not even recognize them as problems. But ingrained problems are, by definition, big problems. And the only way to tackle something big is to start small, one step at a time.
Carol may have helped a little more than hundred people register to vote that Summer she spent in the South. And as those things go, that’s not a lot of people. But Carol did her part.
When I scooted around the corner to Zabar’s I picked up 8 or 10 boxes of bread and it took, maybe, a half an hour. As those things go, that’s not a lot of time, not a lot of effort. But the church fed hundreds every week. I did my part.
Ministry, you see, happens in these small steps. And therefore, ministry requires humility— let me say that again— ministry requires humility— the humility to say I am willing to do something small as a part of something larger. Ministry is, hence, often not valued by our society. After all, our society is used to big, likes big, thinks big and is quite uncomfortable with small. (Slight pause.)
Confession: I may not know a lot but I know this: every time I’m tempted to think ministry is about big I remind myself of a basic truth. I’m a guy from Brooklyn who has come to understand I’m just... simply... Joe— no... big... deal. Amen.
02/05/2017
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: “There is no question about this: there are systemic problems, big problems. But I do not care who you are or how important you think you are, you cannot fix the system from the top/down. But you can help make things work from the bottom/up. And bottom/up is the basic definition of two things. Bottom/up is the basic definition of who we are as a church: Congregational. And bottom/up is the basic definition of ministry.”
BENEDICTION: We are commissioned by God to carry the peace of God into the world. Our words and our deeds will be used by God, for we become messengers of the Word of God in our actions. Let us recognize that the transforming power of God is forever among us. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be so in awe of God that we are in awe of no one and nothing else. Amen.
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