04/02/2017 ~ Fifth Sunday in Lent ~ Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45 ~ Communion Sunday.
The Spirit Bids Us
“‘...I will put my Spirit within you, and you will live, you will return to life and I will settle you back on your own land; then you will know that I, Yahweh, have spoken and I will act, will make all this happen’ says the Sovereign, Yahweh, God.” — Ezekiel 37:14.
In my comments today I want to briefly, I hope, relate some personal history. I know in doing this I run a chance that what I am about to say may directly relate to me only.
I hope that’s not true. I hope you find places where this history, this story— or at least its consequences— might have some personal resonance with you. So please bear with me.
In the late Fall of 1967 I was working for Bloomingdale’s Department Store in computer operations. I was not yet twenty.
As happened to many of us in that era, I got a draft notice. I was to be inducted in the Army on December 5th, it said. That date was, ironically, my mother’s birthday.
I brought the draft letter into the office to show my boss and gave my obligatory two weeks notice. Now without telling me, the company contacted my draft board and had the notice rescinded and delayed for a month so I could train a replacement. Therefore within a week I got a letter saying my induction date was pushed back to January 6th.
And so, on January 6th, 1968 I became a member of the United States Army, spent eight weeks of Basic Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, then was shipped off to Cooks School at Fort Lee, Virginia. Why Cooks School?
I’ve always said it’s typical Army logic. I was in computers. Computer— that starts with ‘C.’ Cook— that starts with ‘C.’ In the Army’s way of thinking, if they both start with ‘C’ it must be a match.
Next, I landed in Vietnam— and this is a another date filled with irony— I landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base, Vietnam, on July 4th, 1968. Yes, I arrived in Vietnam on American Independence Day.
Now, I am not going to tell any war stories. What I want to talk about is post war. Back then, if you returned from Vietnam with less than five months to serve in your hitch, you were eligible to be discharged.
I arrived back in the States on September 8th, 1969— two days over. I was released in San Francisco, took a cab to the airport, grabbed a red eye back home. New York City, here I come. (Slight pause.)
The years 1968 and 1969— and I was either in training or overseas for most of that time— 1968 and 1969 may have been two of the most tumultuous years in American history. Here are a couple of highlights (or is it low lights?) from just 1968 in chronological order. (Slight pause.)
North Korea seized the Navy Vessel, the USS Pueblo. The Tet Offensive was launched. The My Lai Massacre happened. Lyndon B. Johnson announced he would not seek re-election.
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Riots ensued. Senator Robert Kennedy was assassinated. The country was in shock.
Anti-war protesters clashed with police at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Many were jailed. Jackie Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis. Richard Nixon won the race for President with 43.4% of the popular vote. (Slight pause.)
And that was just 1968. My point here is not what happened. My point here is I missed it. I missed all that and a good chunk of 1969 too. I was oblivious to it.
Why? I did basic training, where you barely have time to breathe. I moved on to advanced training, where you barely have time to think.
Next I was stationed first in downtown Saigon where there was incoming ordinance all the time and later stationed just off Tan Son Nhut Air Base, at that time the largest airport in the world. Which is to insist during this period you might say I had things on my mind other than current events. (Slight pause.)
Looking at it all in retrospect, I realize when I got back it took me some time to recover, to fit into polite society again, to get grounded, to adjust. I might even suggest part of me never did recover from an experience of trauma and that trauma is connected with three things.
I saw a war first hand. Next, I did not see what was happening here, back in the States, first hand. But most of the people I encountered— that group commonly called polite society— had seen it. Last, to be straightforward about it— and I speak for a lot of Vietnam veterans in saying this— Vietnam veterans, myself included, did not receive a particularly warm welcome from that group commonly called polite society.
That having been said, at first when I did return I went back to work in computer operations. But not long after that I decided I needed to be involved in what I loved. And I loved professional theater. So I took some classes at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.
To be clear, theater is just like many other job situations. You need contacts, referrals. Slowly but surely, I stared making the links necessary to get work.
As I have said here probably hundreds of times before, I started writing and had more than a modicum of success at that with theatrically related projects. What I have probably never said here before is the exercise of writing was a welcome, psychic release for me. The more I wrote, the more I recovered from my experience. (Slight pause.)
This is what we hear in the Scroll of the Prophet Ezekiel: “‘...I will put my Spirit within you, and you will live, you will return to life and I will settle you back on your own land; then you will know that I, Yahweh, have spoken and will act, and will make all this happen’ says the Sovereign, Yahweh, God.” (Slight pause.)
Ezekiel lived and preached during what may have been the most tumultuous years in the history of the Jewish people. The armies of the Babylon had conquered Judea, besieged and destroyed Jerusalem, took prisoners captive.
And so in this atmosphere of captivity, enslavement, Ezekiel has a vision. The picture seen by the Prophet is one of an abandoned battlefield strewn with bones.
And no wonder. The homeland has been destroyed. Those who survive live in exile. Their world is not just tumultuous. Their world had come to an end.
However, in the vision experienced by the Prophet the outcome of the journey is clear. (Quote:) “...I will put my Spirit within you....” (Slight pause.) I need to explain something. What the Prophet addresses here should not be given the benefit of hindsight, should not be given a Christian reading. This passage is not about resurrection.
While resurrection is a Jewish concept, it is not a part of the Jewish tradition until about two hundred years before the time Christ lives. Ezekiel lives about six hundred years before Christ. Hence, this passage is not about resurrection.
Indeed and as I often say, resurrection is not reanimation nor is it resuscitation. Resurrection is what it says it is: resurrection. In fact, in this passage the bones are reanimated but still do not have life. They simply have animation.
And animation is not enough. Something is missing that gives real life. What is missing? The Spirit of God is missing. So let me state the promise God makes one more time. (Quote:) “...I will put my Spirit within you....” (Slight pause.)
What is this Spirit of God about? (Slight pause.) I want to suggest the Spirit of God is about trust, hope, faith, belief and most of all about a reliance on God. Therefore, the Spirit of God is about God who walks with us, God who walks at our side, God who is our companion no matter... what... happens. (Slight pause.)
I think this is a human truth. We never actually get over trauma. We cope with it. But I also believe that the best coping mechanism known to humanity is trust, especially trust in God. And God constantly invites us to trust.
Once we trust in God— hope, faith and belief follow. Once we see this path of hope, faith and belief we begin to know we can rely on God, know that the Spirit of God walks with us, is at our side, is our companion no matter what happens. (Slight pause.)
Let me say something else very personal. Given my experience, I am not someone who thinks good things will always happen. I am no Pollyanna. I know better than that.
Equally, given my experience, I know life can be hard and sometimes feel brutal. Equally, given my experience I know my life is not of my own doing.
Given my experience, I have come to realize the Spirit of God walks with me, daily. Given my experience, I have come to realize the Spirit of God walks with us, daily. God gives me, God gives us a promise. That promise is one of trust, hope, faithfulness.
Therefore, the Spirit of God bids us to trust God as we go on this journey called life. And yes, there is no promise that all will be rosy, no guarantee that everything is peaches and cream.
But there is a promise. God promises that the Spirit of God will walk with us, be at out side, this day and forever more. Amen.
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York
04/02/2017
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 often occurred to me that we all have our own individual God. And for some people God is threatening, frightening, even violent. I think a God who walks at our side is a Spirit of Gentleness. [1]
BENEDICTION: God sent Jesus unto the world that we may believe. God sends us into the world that we may share this good news: in Christ we are not condemned, for Christ came to offer abundant life. And may the peace of God which surpasses all understanding keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge of God, the love of Jesus, the Christ and the companionship of the Holy Spirit, this day and forevermore. Amen.
[1] Spirit of Gentleness (New Century Hymnal # 286) was the closing hymn of this service of worship.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Sunday, March 26, 2017
SERMON ~ 03/26/2017 ~ “God Sight”
03/26/2017 ~ Fourth Sunday in Lent ~ 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41 ~ One Great Hour of Sharing All Church Offering Received.
God Sight
“The answer came: ‘The one they call Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go to Siloam and wash. When I went and washed I was able to see.’” — John 9:11.
The writers George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart were collaborators and titans of the mid-Twentieth Century theater world. They both died in 1961. Kaufman was a writer, director, humorist and drama critic who wrote comedies, political satire, books for musicals and even wrote for the Marx Brothers.
All that made him a good match with Moss Hart— also multi-talented, who also wrote a broad spectrum of material— comedies, political satire and books for musicals. Writing together they won a Pulitzer Prize for You Can’t Take It with You. Another one of their collaborations was the play Merrily We Roll Along.
One conceit of Merrily is that it tells its story backwards. It happens in reverse time, in reverse order. The first scene happens today.
The time sequence of each of the following scenes informs us as to what happened before that and before that and before that. The characters, therefore, move at the start from being older people who look at the world with some distrust, even cynicism, to an the end of the tale where they are younger and envision a future filled with hope and promise.
Therefore, the play often is performed with a second conceit. Since the characters get younger throughout, often young people— twenty-five and under— are cast in the parts. They, of course, start the play acting old and skeptical. By the end of the play they are young, optimistic.
In 1981 the well known composer Stephen Sondheim wrote a musical version of that play. It was Sondheim’s biggest flop, lasting just sixteen performances.
I saw it and I am, hence, one of the few who saw that original production which— by the way— featured a young Jason Alexander, who later came to fame as George on Seinfeld. I was reminded of all this because I recently saw a new documentary about the Sondheim musical.
Back when the Sondheim show was ready to open ABC had planned a program about the making of a musical and intended to use Merrily. Production on the ABC project stopped when Merrily was not successful.
Some of the film shot for that endeavor was recently rediscovered and is part of this new documentary. The documentary looks back at the original Sondheim show using that old, rediscovered film and then covers a more recent reunion of the original cast who gathered to present a concert version of Merrily.
In the old film actors— all under 25— are interviewed about being chosen to be in a Sondheim show early in their career. The optimism of youth is clear in their responses.
In the present the actors are interviewed again these thirty five years later. They reminisce. While cynicism is not a tune we hear, they do talk about where life might have led them and where life has really led them.
Hence the unifying conceit of the documentary, the musical and original play is each looks back in time from the perspective of knowing what has happened. They all look back on life lived and how life played out.
Thereby, questions arise. “If this is where I am now, how did I get here? Who am I, now? Did I become who I wanted to be?” (Slight pause.)
How did I get here? Who am I now? Did I become who I wanted to be?— poignant questions for each of us. Indeed, I was recently having a conversation with a friend, about 15 years younger than I who, reminiscing about who she was when she was twenty-something said, “I wish I knew then what I know now.”
Well, I suppose that is the real conceit of Merrily in all these versions. If we only knew how we got to where we are today, maybe we would have done things, if not differently, perhaps better. (Slight pause.)
This is what we hear in the Gospel According to the School of John: “The answer came: ‘The one they call Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go to Siloam and wash. When I went and washed I was able to see.’” (Slight pause.)
Few stories in the New Testament are told as well as the healing of the one born blind. Scenes are smoothly connected; characters unfold before our eyes; above all, crisp dialogue, ironic at almost every point, unveils the satire of someone born blind who comes to see and is enabled to see people who prove themselves blind.
The story is a work of art to be admired. In fact, one commentary I read said the story needs only to be told. One should never preach about it. Why? The story makes its own obvious theological claims.
Well, I like a challenge. So I will try to say something about it. (Slight pause.) Toward the end of this tale the one born blind is cast out of the synagogue, cut off from family, religion, heritage, home.
All anchors, all the things commonly perceived of as linchpins of life are gone. I want to suggest that, while the story makes all that happens sound as if it was inevitable evolution, it is not inevitable evolution. Real life is more scattered than it is inevitable. Let me throw out a concept here. We tend to think that knowledge is binary. Either you know something or you don’t. We see knowledge as a fact or a series of facts. But each of those facts, even in a series, is isolated, separate from other facts.
That leads me to ask ‘what is true knowledge?’ Is knowledge a fact or even a set of facts? Or is it something else? (Slight pause.)
I think knowledge is neither a fact nor is it a series of facts. Rather, true knowledge is an ability to connect facts.
True knowledge connects different aspects of life. True knowledge integrates facts. True knowledge is, therefore, complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered.
True knowledge is challenging. Or rather true knowledge, real knowledge, deep knowledge— by definition— challenges our ususal way of thinking. That usual way of thinking says knowing facts means we are knowledgeable. I am suggesting what really makes us knowledgeable is integrating facts.
Further, knowledge is not simply about winning or losing, certainly something we hear in many quarters. Knowledge is, therefore, a lot like a life lived, a lot like life. It is something we experience over time— complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered. (Slight pause.)
That brings me back to Merrily We Roll Along. Yes, we all wish we had 20/20 hindsight. Why? 20/20 hindsight sees things perfectly, or as close to perfect as we might imagine perfect to be.
Of course, that is the final conceit of Merrily, the idea that we might look back with perfect 20/20 hindsight. And we think that if we had 20/20 hindsight, we would have the same vision of the world God has. But real life is a lot more complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered and imperfect than simply having 20/20 hindsight.
Of course, all this brings me back to the textured story of the one born blind from birth. (Slight pause.) I think this story is an invitation to see the world as God sees the world.
However, counter to the way we think the world works, this story is an invitation to not see things as simply facts, an invitation to not see things isolated from everything else. Please understand everyone in the story except the one born blind sees things, sees the world as an immutable set of facts.
And we tend to see the story that way precisely because, like any story, it looks back. It has 20/20 hindsight. But does God see the world in hindsight or does God see the world with foresight? (Slight pause.)
Well, how does God see the world? Does God see the world from the perspective of one person? Does God see the world from the perspective of one nation? Does God see the world as an immutable set of facts? Does God even see the world in hindsight? (Slight pause.)
My bet is our own way of seeing the world is, by definition, limited. And I want to suggest God sees the world more fully than we do. God does not see facts as isolated, immutable. God does not see the world only in hindsight.
God sees all the aspects of life as connected, integrated, complex, textured. God sees the world as emotionally demanding, challenging. Equally and therefore, God does not see the world as being about winning or losing.
The economy of the world, as God sees it is— I think— a world in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love reign. The economy of the world, as God sees it is— I think— not a place where distrust and cynicism abound.
This, my friends, is God’s sight, God’s vision, how God sees the world— a world— that world which I’ve just described— in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love reign. And if anything, I think that is the lesson we need to hear when the story of the one blind from birth is told.
God’s sight invites us to see the world with the eyes of God, see the world not as an immutable fact or set of facts but as a place in which the integrated textures— the integrated textures of equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love do reign. Additionally, God invites us to see the world with God’s foresight.
Let us, therefore, commit ourselves to seeing the world as God sees the world. Forgive me for suggesting— God sees with the heart, overwhelming love. Amen.
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 mentioned Jason Alexander of Seinfeld fame was in the Sondheim show. He readily admits he could not have foreseen what happened to him. Equally, in the year 2000 the show finally played on London’s West End, the British equivalent of Broadway. And it won their equivalent of the Tony Award for Best Musical. Life takes strange turns. Life is complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random and scattered, imperfect. None of us foresees fully. But we are called to see how God might see— a place in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love do reign.”
BENEDICTION: There is but one message in Scripture: God loves us. Let us endeavor to let God’s love shine forth in our lives. For with God’s love and goodness there is power to redeem, power to revive, power to renew, power to resurrect. So, may the love of God the creator which is real, the Peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding and the companionship of the Holy Spirit which is ever present, keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge, love and care of God this day and forever more. Amen.
God Sight
“The answer came: ‘The one they call Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go to Siloam and wash. When I went and washed I was able to see.’” — John 9:11.
The writers George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart were collaborators and titans of the mid-Twentieth Century theater world. They both died in 1961. Kaufman was a writer, director, humorist and drama critic who wrote comedies, political satire, books for musicals and even wrote for the Marx Brothers.
All that made him a good match with Moss Hart— also multi-talented, who also wrote a broad spectrum of material— comedies, political satire and books for musicals. Writing together they won a Pulitzer Prize for You Can’t Take It with You. Another one of their collaborations was the play Merrily We Roll Along.
One conceit of Merrily is that it tells its story backwards. It happens in reverse time, in reverse order. The first scene happens today.
The time sequence of each of the following scenes informs us as to what happened before that and before that and before that. The characters, therefore, move at the start from being older people who look at the world with some distrust, even cynicism, to an the end of the tale where they are younger and envision a future filled with hope and promise.
Therefore, the play often is performed with a second conceit. Since the characters get younger throughout, often young people— twenty-five and under— are cast in the parts. They, of course, start the play acting old and skeptical. By the end of the play they are young, optimistic.
In 1981 the well known composer Stephen Sondheim wrote a musical version of that play. It was Sondheim’s biggest flop, lasting just sixteen performances.
I saw it and I am, hence, one of the few who saw that original production which— by the way— featured a young Jason Alexander, who later came to fame as George on Seinfeld. I was reminded of all this because I recently saw a new documentary about the Sondheim musical.
Back when the Sondheim show was ready to open ABC had planned a program about the making of a musical and intended to use Merrily. Production on the ABC project stopped when Merrily was not successful.
Some of the film shot for that endeavor was recently rediscovered and is part of this new documentary. The documentary looks back at the original Sondheim show using that old, rediscovered film and then covers a more recent reunion of the original cast who gathered to present a concert version of Merrily.
In the old film actors— all under 25— are interviewed about being chosen to be in a Sondheim show early in their career. The optimism of youth is clear in their responses.
In the present the actors are interviewed again these thirty five years later. They reminisce. While cynicism is not a tune we hear, they do talk about where life might have led them and where life has really led them.
Hence the unifying conceit of the documentary, the musical and original play is each looks back in time from the perspective of knowing what has happened. They all look back on life lived and how life played out.
Thereby, questions arise. “If this is where I am now, how did I get here? Who am I, now? Did I become who I wanted to be?” (Slight pause.)
How did I get here? Who am I now? Did I become who I wanted to be?— poignant questions for each of us. Indeed, I was recently having a conversation with a friend, about 15 years younger than I who, reminiscing about who she was when she was twenty-something said, “I wish I knew then what I know now.”
Well, I suppose that is the real conceit of Merrily in all these versions. If we only knew how we got to where we are today, maybe we would have done things, if not differently, perhaps better. (Slight pause.)
This is what we hear in the Gospel According to the School of John: “The answer came: ‘The one they call Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go to Siloam and wash. When I went and washed I was able to see.’” (Slight pause.)
Few stories in the New Testament are told as well as the healing of the one born blind. Scenes are smoothly connected; characters unfold before our eyes; above all, crisp dialogue, ironic at almost every point, unveils the satire of someone born blind who comes to see and is enabled to see people who prove themselves blind.
The story is a work of art to be admired. In fact, one commentary I read said the story needs only to be told. One should never preach about it. Why? The story makes its own obvious theological claims.
Well, I like a challenge. So I will try to say something about it. (Slight pause.) Toward the end of this tale the one born blind is cast out of the synagogue, cut off from family, religion, heritage, home.
All anchors, all the things commonly perceived of as linchpins of life are gone. I want to suggest that, while the story makes all that happens sound as if it was inevitable evolution, it is not inevitable evolution. Real life is more scattered than it is inevitable. Let me throw out a concept here. We tend to think that knowledge is binary. Either you know something or you don’t. We see knowledge as a fact or a series of facts. But each of those facts, even in a series, is isolated, separate from other facts.
That leads me to ask ‘what is true knowledge?’ Is knowledge a fact or even a set of facts? Or is it something else? (Slight pause.)
I think knowledge is neither a fact nor is it a series of facts. Rather, true knowledge is an ability to connect facts.
True knowledge connects different aspects of life. True knowledge integrates facts. True knowledge is, therefore, complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered.
True knowledge is challenging. Or rather true knowledge, real knowledge, deep knowledge— by definition— challenges our ususal way of thinking. That usual way of thinking says knowing facts means we are knowledgeable. I am suggesting what really makes us knowledgeable is integrating facts.
Further, knowledge is not simply about winning or losing, certainly something we hear in many quarters. Knowledge is, therefore, a lot like a life lived, a lot like life. It is something we experience over time— complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered. (Slight pause.)
That brings me back to Merrily We Roll Along. Yes, we all wish we had 20/20 hindsight. Why? 20/20 hindsight sees things perfectly, or as close to perfect as we might imagine perfect to be.
Of course, that is the final conceit of Merrily, the idea that we might look back with perfect 20/20 hindsight. And we think that if we had 20/20 hindsight, we would have the same vision of the world God has. But real life is a lot more complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random, scattered and imperfect than simply having 20/20 hindsight.
Of course, all this brings me back to the textured story of the one born blind from birth. (Slight pause.) I think this story is an invitation to see the world as God sees the world.
However, counter to the way we think the world works, this story is an invitation to not see things as simply facts, an invitation to not see things isolated from everything else. Please understand everyone in the story except the one born blind sees things, sees the world as an immutable set of facts.
And we tend to see the story that way precisely because, like any story, it looks back. It has 20/20 hindsight. But does God see the world in hindsight or does God see the world with foresight? (Slight pause.)
Well, how does God see the world? Does God see the world from the perspective of one person? Does God see the world from the perspective of one nation? Does God see the world as an immutable set of facts? Does God even see the world in hindsight? (Slight pause.)
My bet is our own way of seeing the world is, by definition, limited. And I want to suggest God sees the world more fully than we do. God does not see facts as isolated, immutable. God does not see the world only in hindsight.
God sees all the aspects of life as connected, integrated, complex, textured. God sees the world as emotionally demanding, challenging. Equally and therefore, God does not see the world as being about winning or losing.
The economy of the world, as God sees it is— I think— a world in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love reign. The economy of the world, as God sees it is— I think— not a place where distrust and cynicism abound.
This, my friends, is God’s sight, God’s vision, how God sees the world— a world— that world which I’ve just described— in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love reign. And if anything, I think that is the lesson we need to hear when the story of the one blind from birth is told.
God’s sight invites us to see the world with the eyes of God, see the world not as an immutable fact or set of facts but as a place in which the integrated textures— the integrated textures of equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love do reign. Additionally, God invites us to see the world with God’s foresight.
Let us, therefore, commit ourselves to seeing the world as God sees the world. Forgive me for suggesting— God sees with the heart, overwhelming love. Amen.
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 mentioned Jason Alexander of Seinfeld fame was in the Sondheim show. He readily admits he could not have foreseen what happened to him. Equally, in the year 2000 the show finally played on London’s West End, the British equivalent of Broadway. And it won their equivalent of the Tony Award for Best Musical. Life takes strange turns. Life is complex, textured, emotionally demanding, random and scattered, imperfect. None of us foresees fully. But we are called to see how God might see— a place in which equity, joy, peace, freedom, justice, hope and love do reign.”
BENEDICTION: There is but one message in Scripture: God loves us. Let us endeavor to let God’s love shine forth in our lives. For with God’s love and goodness there is power to redeem, power to revive, power to renew, power to resurrect. So, may the love of God the creator which is real, the Peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding and the companionship of the Holy Spirit which is ever present, keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge, love and care of God this day and forever more. Amen.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
SERMON ~ 03/19/2017 ~ “Saved by the Life of....”
03/19/2017 ~ Third Sunday in Lent ~ Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 95; Romans 5:1-11; John 4:5-42 ~ Morning Service with the Whole Church at Chenango Valley Home.
Saved by the Life of....
“So, if we are reconciled to God through the death of Christ while we were still powerless, how much more certain it is that we who have been reconciled will be saved by the life of Christ.” — Romans 5:10.
The first thing I need to say in my comments this morning is “Thank you.” Thank you to the residents of Chenango Valley Home for welcoming us, the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, into your home. We, in the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, believe those of us who happen to be in a similar geographic location should be thought of as members of the same community.
But there is more to it than that, especially when it comes to sharing worship. We believe that when people worship together each person brings with them their own talents, their prayers, their concerns, their joys, their hopes and their sense of the Spirit— the Holy Spirit— who is both working in each of us and is working in all of us and is working in the greater community.
Hence, because of your presence in worship, because of the presence of any one individual, we, the congregation— all of us— we become a new and different creation by that presence, by your presence, here today. Therefore, we, the congregation, all of us, need to strive to affirm God’s works in each of us to move all of us together toward greater fullness, and indeed, toward greater community. The very name of my church— Congregational— indicates we are about community.
Let’s look at those two words for a moment: congregational and community. (Slight pause.) Hebrew— the language used in the Hebrew Scriptures, the so called “Old Testament”— is an interesting language. In Hebrew nearly every word can mean a lot of things.
In fact, in Hebrew— depending on the context— the same word can be translated many different ways. I always say the meaning of Hebrew words can change before our eyes, right in front of us. Now, in the Hebrew Scriptures the underlying word we translate as both congregation and community is qahal.
However, that’s not where the meaning of this underlying Hebrew word— qahal— ends. This word can mean congregation and community but it can also mean assembly, convocation, army, company— company as in a group of people gathered— multitude, cohort, gathering, group, session, crowd, horde. [1]
There is, however, one implication in all these ways of seeing the word— qahal— which is of extreme importance. And that is all these meanings imply the whole— everyone in a group. No one in the group is left out. The implication is we may be a group but we are one. We may be a group— many— but we are one. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in Romans: “So, if we are reconciled to God through the death of Christ while we were still powerless, how much more certain it is that we who have been reconciled will be saved by the life of Christ.” (Slight pause.)
When this reading from Romans was introduced it was said this Epistle is considered by many scholars to be the crowning achievement of theological witness in the New Testament. It was also said this section touches on one of the bed rock principles of the Protestant movement: justification by faith.
In fact, one commentary I read says the first sentence of this reading makes a basic statement about justification by faith. But then Paul goes on and on and on about it for next four chapters! Equally, the commentary says what Paul says is very complex, hard to read, hard to understand.
And I don’t think I am saying anything you don’t know when I say this— the Apostle Paul is complex, hard to understand. On the other hand it was also just said earlier, stated earlier this is a great achievement of theological witness. If this achievement is so dense that we can’t understand it, what can we do to help us understand it? (Slight pause.)
I started my comments by addressing community. I want to suggest that, at least in part, justification by faith is about community. You see these words tell us we are (quote:) “...reconciled to God.” Further, these words tell us we are (quote:) “...saved by the life of Christ.”
Put differently, we are one with God because of Christ. Put differently yet again, we are one in community with God because of the life Christ. Put differently yet again, we are one people— one with God— because of the life of Christ.
And, please note, what makes us one is the life of Christ, the living Christ. Indeed, our proclamation as Christians is not just that Christ has died. What makes us Christians, our basic proclamation as Christians, is we say— and we shall say this on Easter morning— Christ is risen, Christ lives!
And because of Christ, because Christ lives, we are called to be in community because in community we are reconciled with God. Because Christ lives we are called to be one people because we are reconciled with God. Because Christ lives we, who are all very different, each one of us, are one people, one community, because we are reconciled with God. (Slight pause.)
All of which is to once again say to the residents here at Chenango Valley Home, “Thank you.” Thank you for welcoming us, the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, into your home.
Thank you for bringing with you your talents, your prayers, your concerns, your joys, your hopes and your sense of the Spirit— the Holy Spirit— who is working in you and is working in the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational and working in the greater community. And why do I say that? How can I say that?
I can say that because— rumor to the contrary— the basic message Paul has is easy to understand. That message says Christ is risen, Christ lives. And because Christ lives we are reconciled to God. And because we are reconciled to God we are one. We are community. Amen.
03/19/2017
United Church of Christ, First Congregational
Worship at Chenango Valley Home
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: “In the Congregational tradition the building in which members of my church meet for worship is not called a church. It is called a meeting house. The reason the building called a meeting house is simple. That’s where we meet for worship. The building is not called a church because the people, the congregation, the community is the church. You are I and all of us together— people— are the church, the congregation.”
BENEDICTION: Let us rest assured that God is among us and travels with us daily. Let us know that God’s Spirit empowers us to do things in the name of God we did not think possible. Therefore, let us share our love for God with others, confident that God will provide if we are faithful. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be in awe of no one else and nothing else because we are so in awe of God. Amen.
[1] Strong’s: http://biblehub.com/hebrew/6951.htm
Saved by the Life of....
“So, if we are reconciled to God through the death of Christ while we were still powerless, how much more certain it is that we who have been reconciled will be saved by the life of Christ.” — Romans 5:10.
The first thing I need to say in my comments this morning is “Thank you.” Thank you to the residents of Chenango Valley Home for welcoming us, the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, into your home. We, in the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, believe those of us who happen to be in a similar geographic location should be thought of as members of the same community.
But there is more to it than that, especially when it comes to sharing worship. We believe that when people worship together each person brings with them their own talents, their prayers, their concerns, their joys, their hopes and their sense of the Spirit— the Holy Spirit— who is both working in each of us and is working in all of us and is working in the greater community.
Hence, because of your presence in worship, because of the presence of any one individual, we, the congregation— all of us— we become a new and different creation by that presence, by your presence, here today. Therefore, we, the congregation, all of us, need to strive to affirm God’s works in each of us to move all of us together toward greater fullness, and indeed, toward greater community. The very name of my church— Congregational— indicates we are about community.
Let’s look at those two words for a moment: congregational and community. (Slight pause.) Hebrew— the language used in the Hebrew Scriptures, the so called “Old Testament”— is an interesting language. In Hebrew nearly every word can mean a lot of things.
In fact, in Hebrew— depending on the context— the same word can be translated many different ways. I always say the meaning of Hebrew words can change before our eyes, right in front of us. Now, in the Hebrew Scriptures the underlying word we translate as both congregation and community is qahal.
However, that’s not where the meaning of this underlying Hebrew word— qahal— ends. This word can mean congregation and community but it can also mean assembly, convocation, army, company— company as in a group of people gathered— multitude, cohort, gathering, group, session, crowd, horde. [1]
There is, however, one implication in all these ways of seeing the word— qahal— which is of extreme importance. And that is all these meanings imply the whole— everyone in a group. No one in the group is left out. The implication is we may be a group but we are one. We may be a group— many— but we are one. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in Romans: “So, if we are reconciled to God through the death of Christ while we were still powerless, how much more certain it is that we who have been reconciled will be saved by the life of Christ.” (Slight pause.)
When this reading from Romans was introduced it was said this Epistle is considered by many scholars to be the crowning achievement of theological witness in the New Testament. It was also said this section touches on one of the bed rock principles of the Protestant movement: justification by faith.
In fact, one commentary I read says the first sentence of this reading makes a basic statement about justification by faith. But then Paul goes on and on and on about it for next four chapters! Equally, the commentary says what Paul says is very complex, hard to read, hard to understand.
And I don’t think I am saying anything you don’t know when I say this— the Apostle Paul is complex, hard to understand. On the other hand it was also just said earlier, stated earlier this is a great achievement of theological witness. If this achievement is so dense that we can’t understand it, what can we do to help us understand it? (Slight pause.)
I started my comments by addressing community. I want to suggest that, at least in part, justification by faith is about community. You see these words tell us we are (quote:) “...reconciled to God.” Further, these words tell us we are (quote:) “...saved by the life of Christ.”
Put differently, we are one with God because of Christ. Put differently yet again, we are one in community with God because of the life Christ. Put differently yet again, we are one people— one with God— because of the life of Christ.
And, please note, what makes us one is the life of Christ, the living Christ. Indeed, our proclamation as Christians is not just that Christ has died. What makes us Christians, our basic proclamation as Christians, is we say— and we shall say this on Easter morning— Christ is risen, Christ lives!
And because of Christ, because Christ lives, we are called to be in community because in community we are reconciled with God. Because Christ lives we are called to be one people because we are reconciled with God. Because Christ lives we, who are all very different, each one of us, are one people, one community, because we are reconciled with God. (Slight pause.)
All of which is to once again say to the residents here at Chenango Valley Home, “Thank you.” Thank you for welcoming us, the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational, into your home.
Thank you for bringing with you your talents, your prayers, your concerns, your joys, your hopes and your sense of the Spirit— the Holy Spirit— who is working in you and is working in the members of the United Church of Christ, First Congregational and working in the greater community. And why do I say that? How can I say that?
I can say that because— rumor to the contrary— the basic message Paul has is easy to understand. That message says Christ is risen, Christ lives. And because Christ lives we are reconciled to God. And because we are reconciled to God we are one. We are community. Amen.
03/19/2017
United Church of Christ, First Congregational
Worship at Chenango Valley Home
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: “In the Congregational tradition the building in which members of my church meet for worship is not called a church. It is called a meeting house. The reason the building called a meeting house is simple. That’s where we meet for worship. The building is not called a church because the people, the congregation, the community is the church. You are I and all of us together— people— are the church, the congregation.”
BENEDICTION: Let us rest assured that God is among us and travels with us daily. Let us know that God’s Spirit empowers us to do things in the name of God we did not think possible. Therefore, let us share our love for God with others, confident that God will provide if we are faithful. And may we love God so much, that we love nothing else too much. May we be in awe of no one else and nothing else because we are so in awe of God. Amen.
[1] Strong’s: http://biblehub.com/hebrew/6951.htm
Sunday, March 12, 2017
SERMON ~ 03/12/2017 ~ “Vision”
03/12/2017 ~ Second Sunday in Lent ~ Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9.
Vision
“Suddenly the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Jesus.” — Matthew 17:3.
Bangor Seminary was known for training pastors because the school sent many students to small rural churches to be pastors long before they graduated. This, thereby, provided O.J.T.— on the job training. One great piece of practical advice I got when I had just entered Seminary came from a student who was serving a small rural church and was about to graduate.
On any given Sunday night, she said, you may be dog tired. But read the Scriptures for the following Sunday. That way they will percolate all week.
I’ve always tried to do that. I did that last Sunday. They percolated right away. That night a story about an incident which happened when I was a Senior in High School came bubbling out of my subconscious, out of my memory, into my dreams. This is that story. (Slight pause.)
I attended Richmond Hill High School, Queens, New York. We had a club called the Discussion Forum. Somehow, as a Senior, I had the role of vice-chair.
Equally somehow, the group decided to have a Candidates Forum for people running for public office that year. One of the elections that year was for Mayor of New York City.
Equally somehow, someone convinced William F. Buckley, Jr., who was running for mayor, to come and speak at this local event. If you are unfamiliar with Buckley, he is considered one of the founders of the American Conservative movement.
Born to wealth, a graduate of Yale, he first came to public attention with the 1951 book God and Man at Yale. In 1955 he founded the magazine National Review.
From 1966 to 1999 Buckley was the host of the weekly PBS show, Firing Line. Erudite and funny, when asked what he would do if he actually won the race for Mayor, Buckley responded, “Demand a recount.”
Well, the event was held one evening in the school auditorium. That venue seated about 800. Given Buckley was to speak, the auditorium was nearly full.
I don’t remember why, but it fell to me to introduce a local politician who in turn introduced Buckley. I did my job, exited stage right, stood there and listened.
Having finished speaking Buckley glided off stage right where several of his aides waited and where I was standing. They exited into a school hallway. I followed.
A number of people, perhaps several dozen, burst into the hallway from an auditorium exit some twenty yards away. They were shouting Buckley’s name and waving programs, probably seeking autographs.
Knowing I was a student, one of Buckley’s aids turned to me and in a brusk manner asked, “What’s the closest exit to the street.” We were literally feet from an exit. I pointed at it. They pushed through the door. I followed.
The door slammed shut behind us. The same aide turned to me and said, “We parked on 113th street. Where’s that?”
I pointed back toward the door. “On the other side of the building.”
He muttered something unpleasant and tried the door. It was locked.
Buckley seemed calm and unconcerned but this fellow was really agitated. “How do we get to back 113th Street?” he demanded.
“Walk around the block?” I offered. He growled something contentious again.
You see, the school had a fenced in athletic field right next to it with no street access. Walking around the block meant walking two city blocks one way, across another block and two city blocks back.
It was late Spring. It was warm. All of us walked around those blocks together.
No one spoke as we walked. There seemed to be no local traffic, no cars. Around these inner-city streets there were stretches of darkness and circles of light from the street lamps above us.
When we got to the other side of the building Buckley and the others got into a waiting limousine. Off they went. This whole episode seemed quite surreal to me, even then.
I never saw Buckley in person again. John Lindsay won the race for Mayor. Buckley came in third with 13% of the vote.
Now, I did not tie a lot of facts to this story nor do I with great precision remember a lot. These are vague memories from a long time ago. All I really remember is what the experience felt like.
Perhaps that’s why it came to me in a dream. The story is from so long ago that, by definition, it’s about how it felt, not about facts. (Slight pause.)
These words are found in Matthew: “Suddenly the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Jesus.” (Slight pause.)
I want to make a couple points about how the story of the Transfiguration is told. The first point has to do with when the story was written.
Scholars believe Jesus died about the year we would call 30 of the Common Era. Scholars believe Matthew was written about the year 85. That’s 55 years later.
Tell me, what do you remember, in detail, from 55 years ago or even 10 years ago? If you remember anything, you probably simply have a sense of what happened.
The story about my Senior Year in High school happened in 1965. That’s 52 years ago. As I indicated, what I said about that incident— those are simply vague memories.
I did not tie a lot of facts to the story. I, for instance and these many years later, have no idea how to answer the following questions.
‘How did a school club get permission to run this kind of event at a Public High School?’ ‘How did we get a well known figure like Bill Buckley to come?’ ‘I was only the vice-chair of the Discussion Forum, not the chair. Why was I designated to introduce the person who introduced Buckley?’
You think I’d remember important details like that, would you not? But what I really remember is what the experience felt like, how surreal it seemed. (Slight pause.)
So, is the story of the Transfiguration about factual data? Or is the story about something else? (Slight pause.)
Having asked that, there are several general statement to make about the New Testament, things we all already know. These are also things to which most of us pay no attention whatsoever. (Slight pause.)
Here we go: the Gospels are stories about Jesus. Jesus was Jewish. The Gospel stories were written by people who were Jewish, about people who were Jewish and meant to communicate with people who were Jewish. Further, the Gospel stories were written in light of and influenced by the Hebrew Scriptures.
You see, the people for whom these Gospel stories were written knew the Hebrew Scriptures inside out and backwards. It was a common point of reference for them.
Indeed, when these stories were written, the work we call the Hebrew Scriptures was the only Bible. It was the Bible for Jesus. It was the Bible Jesus read. (Slight pause.)
That brings me back to these words from Matthew: “...the disciples saw Moses and Elijah....” So, why are the disciples pictured as seeing Moses and Elijah? (Slight pause.)
One answer to that question is Moses and Elijah represent the Law and the Prophets. Another is, according to the Hebrew Scriptures, both Moses and Elijah, themselves, had experiences of the real presence of God. The fancy word for that is a theophany.
This is clearly a story about the real presence of God, a theophany. So for a Jewish audience it would have sounded strange if Moses and Elijah were not there and yet there was a theophany.
Additionally, when we read Scripture we tend to read it with contemporary, modern eyes. Therefore, we ask Twenty-first Century questions of Scripture, like ‘Did this happen?’
That’s an odd question on two counts. First, the story is not trying to tell us what happened. ‘Did it happen’ is a moot point since that’s not what the author is writing about. Second, this is— probably— a story about feeling, a story that expressed something about an experience of the real presence of God, a theophany.
There is one more connection here that is clearly Jewish. In the context of Matthew, this story happens shortly after Jesus asks, ‘Who do you say I am?’ Peter responds Jesus is the Christ. The Christ— that’s the Jewish Messiah.
All this comes back to understanding the Transfiguration the way people who first heard and read this story, the Jewish people, might have understood it. If you have the Law, the Prophets and the Messiah together this means one thing: the Realm of God is with us. And what is a continual message of Jesus? That the Realm of God is near. (Slight pause.)
I want to suggest if this story says the Realm of God is with us, here, now, perhaps the real challenge posed by the story to early Christians and, therefore, posed to us is simple. What are we to do to participate in the Realm of God?
Put another way, this story is not about a vision of Christ. This story is about a vision of God for our world. And this vision is a message to us about the Realm of God. This vision is a call to participate to help make our world a place where we endeavor bring God’s vision for the world to fruition.
And Scripture tells us what God’s vision of the world is and what God’s vision for the world looks like. God’s vision of the world and for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we eliminate poverty. God’s vision for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we eradicate inequity. God’s vision for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we extinguish injustice.
Last, I think this story means we are all called to be in right relationship with God. What is a right relationship with God? What can we do to be in a right relationship with God?
You’ve heard me say this hundreds of times. Love God; love neighbor. According to Jesus those words— love God; love neighbor— sum up the Law and the Prophets. [1] And those words are God’s vision for the world. Amen.
03/12/2017
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: “If the modern world proves anything to us it probably says there are many ways of seeing reality. I want to suggest that the one way of seeing reality I don’t think we’ve tried too often is God’s reality for the world, a reality of justice, peace, freedom, hope and trust which needs to reside among all humanity.”
BENEDICTION: God’s love will surround us even when we do not ask for it. God’s voice speaks to us. Let us be attentive to it. Let us share this with others, confident that God will be with 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] It should be noted that (although not directly stated in this sermon) Jesus reiterates that the Law and the Prophets are summed up with love God, love neighbor in the next chapter of Matthew, suggesting a continued flow among these stories and these chapters.
Vision
“Suddenly the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Jesus.” — Matthew 17:3.
Bangor Seminary was known for training pastors because the school sent many students to small rural churches to be pastors long before they graduated. This, thereby, provided O.J.T.— on the job training. One great piece of practical advice I got when I had just entered Seminary came from a student who was serving a small rural church and was about to graduate.
On any given Sunday night, she said, you may be dog tired. But read the Scriptures for the following Sunday. That way they will percolate all week.
I’ve always tried to do that. I did that last Sunday. They percolated right away. That night a story about an incident which happened when I was a Senior in High School came bubbling out of my subconscious, out of my memory, into my dreams. This is that story. (Slight pause.)
I attended Richmond Hill High School, Queens, New York. We had a club called the Discussion Forum. Somehow, as a Senior, I had the role of vice-chair.
Equally somehow, the group decided to have a Candidates Forum for people running for public office that year. One of the elections that year was for Mayor of New York City.
Equally somehow, someone convinced William F. Buckley, Jr., who was running for mayor, to come and speak at this local event. If you are unfamiliar with Buckley, he is considered one of the founders of the American Conservative movement.
Born to wealth, a graduate of Yale, he first came to public attention with the 1951 book God and Man at Yale. In 1955 he founded the magazine National Review.
From 1966 to 1999 Buckley was the host of the weekly PBS show, Firing Line. Erudite and funny, when asked what he would do if he actually won the race for Mayor, Buckley responded, “Demand a recount.”
Well, the event was held one evening in the school auditorium. That venue seated about 800. Given Buckley was to speak, the auditorium was nearly full.
I don’t remember why, but it fell to me to introduce a local politician who in turn introduced Buckley. I did my job, exited stage right, stood there and listened.
Having finished speaking Buckley glided off stage right where several of his aides waited and where I was standing. They exited into a school hallway. I followed.
A number of people, perhaps several dozen, burst into the hallway from an auditorium exit some twenty yards away. They were shouting Buckley’s name and waving programs, probably seeking autographs.
Knowing I was a student, one of Buckley’s aids turned to me and in a brusk manner asked, “What’s the closest exit to the street.” We were literally feet from an exit. I pointed at it. They pushed through the door. I followed.
The door slammed shut behind us. The same aide turned to me and said, “We parked on 113th street. Where’s that?”
I pointed back toward the door. “On the other side of the building.”
He muttered something unpleasant and tried the door. It was locked.
Buckley seemed calm and unconcerned but this fellow was really agitated. “How do we get to back 113th Street?” he demanded.
“Walk around the block?” I offered. He growled something contentious again.
You see, the school had a fenced in athletic field right next to it with no street access. Walking around the block meant walking two city blocks one way, across another block and two city blocks back.
It was late Spring. It was warm. All of us walked around those blocks together.
No one spoke as we walked. There seemed to be no local traffic, no cars. Around these inner-city streets there were stretches of darkness and circles of light from the street lamps above us.
When we got to the other side of the building Buckley and the others got into a waiting limousine. Off they went. This whole episode seemed quite surreal to me, even then.
I never saw Buckley in person again. John Lindsay won the race for Mayor. Buckley came in third with 13% of the vote.
Now, I did not tie a lot of facts to this story nor do I with great precision remember a lot. These are vague memories from a long time ago. All I really remember is what the experience felt like.
Perhaps that’s why it came to me in a dream. The story is from so long ago that, by definition, it’s about how it felt, not about facts. (Slight pause.)
These words are found in Matthew: “Suddenly the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Jesus.” (Slight pause.)
I want to make a couple points about how the story of the Transfiguration is told. The first point has to do with when the story was written.
Scholars believe Jesus died about the year we would call 30 of the Common Era. Scholars believe Matthew was written about the year 85. That’s 55 years later.
Tell me, what do you remember, in detail, from 55 years ago or even 10 years ago? If you remember anything, you probably simply have a sense of what happened.
The story about my Senior Year in High school happened in 1965. That’s 52 years ago. As I indicated, what I said about that incident— those are simply vague memories.
I did not tie a lot of facts to the story. I, for instance and these many years later, have no idea how to answer the following questions.
‘How did a school club get permission to run this kind of event at a Public High School?’ ‘How did we get a well known figure like Bill Buckley to come?’ ‘I was only the vice-chair of the Discussion Forum, not the chair. Why was I designated to introduce the person who introduced Buckley?’
You think I’d remember important details like that, would you not? But what I really remember is what the experience felt like, how surreal it seemed. (Slight pause.)
So, is the story of the Transfiguration about factual data? Or is the story about something else? (Slight pause.)
Having asked that, there are several general statement to make about the New Testament, things we all already know. These are also things to which most of us pay no attention whatsoever. (Slight pause.)
Here we go: the Gospels are stories about Jesus. Jesus was Jewish. The Gospel stories were written by people who were Jewish, about people who were Jewish and meant to communicate with people who were Jewish. Further, the Gospel stories were written in light of and influenced by the Hebrew Scriptures.
You see, the people for whom these Gospel stories were written knew the Hebrew Scriptures inside out and backwards. It was a common point of reference for them.
Indeed, when these stories were written, the work we call the Hebrew Scriptures was the only Bible. It was the Bible for Jesus. It was the Bible Jesus read. (Slight pause.)
That brings me back to these words from Matthew: “...the disciples saw Moses and Elijah....” So, why are the disciples pictured as seeing Moses and Elijah? (Slight pause.)
One answer to that question is Moses and Elijah represent the Law and the Prophets. Another is, according to the Hebrew Scriptures, both Moses and Elijah, themselves, had experiences of the real presence of God. The fancy word for that is a theophany.
This is clearly a story about the real presence of God, a theophany. So for a Jewish audience it would have sounded strange if Moses and Elijah were not there and yet there was a theophany.
Additionally, when we read Scripture we tend to read it with contemporary, modern eyes. Therefore, we ask Twenty-first Century questions of Scripture, like ‘Did this happen?’
That’s an odd question on two counts. First, the story is not trying to tell us what happened. ‘Did it happen’ is a moot point since that’s not what the author is writing about. Second, this is— probably— a story about feeling, a story that expressed something about an experience of the real presence of God, a theophany.
There is one more connection here that is clearly Jewish. In the context of Matthew, this story happens shortly after Jesus asks, ‘Who do you say I am?’ Peter responds Jesus is the Christ. The Christ— that’s the Jewish Messiah.
All this comes back to understanding the Transfiguration the way people who first heard and read this story, the Jewish people, might have understood it. If you have the Law, the Prophets and the Messiah together this means one thing: the Realm of God is with us. And what is a continual message of Jesus? That the Realm of God is near. (Slight pause.)
I want to suggest if this story says the Realm of God is with us, here, now, perhaps the real challenge posed by the story to early Christians and, therefore, posed to us is simple. What are we to do to participate in the Realm of God?
Put another way, this story is not about a vision of Christ. This story is about a vision of God for our world. And this vision is a message to us about the Realm of God. This vision is a call to participate to help make our world a place where we endeavor bring God’s vision for the world to fruition.
And Scripture tells us what God’s vision of the world is and what God’s vision for the world looks like. God’s vision of the world and for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we eliminate poverty. God’s vision for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we eradicate inequity. God’s vision for the world is one in which, with the help of God, we extinguish injustice.
Last, I think this story means we are all called to be in right relationship with God. What is a right relationship with God? What can we do to be in a right relationship with God?
You’ve heard me say this hundreds of times. Love God; love neighbor. According to Jesus those words— love God; love neighbor— sum up the Law and the Prophets. [1] And those words are God’s vision for the world. Amen.
03/12/2017
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: “If the modern world proves anything to us it probably says there are many ways of seeing reality. I want to suggest that the one way of seeing reality I don’t think we’ve tried too often is God’s reality for the world, a reality of justice, peace, freedom, hope and trust which needs to reside among all humanity.”
BENEDICTION: God’s love will surround us even when we do not ask for it. God’s voice speaks to us. Let us be attentive to it. Let us share this with others, confident that God will be with 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] It should be noted that (although not directly stated in this sermon) Jesus reiterates that the Law and the Prophets are summed up with love God, love neighbor in the next chapter of Matthew, suggesting a continued flow among these stories and these chapters.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
SERMON ~ 03/05/2017 ~ “Broken?”
03/05/2017 ~ First Sunday in Lent ~ Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Psalm 32; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11 ~ Communion Sunday ~ Note: Lent Communion Used.
Broken?
“To sum this up, then: just as a single trespass, a single offense, brought condemnation to all, a single righteous act brought to all acquittal and, therefore, brought to all life.” — Romans 5:18.
Well, as you heard earlier, it is the Season of Lent. Now, many of you know I grew up in the Roman Catholic tradition.
Perhaps as a consequence of that when I was young the changing seasons of the church were quite familiar to me, especially this season— Lent. I think Lent is fixed in my memory because of the traditional Roman practices throughout Lent.
In the Roman Church there are two common practices in which one engages— the discipline of fast and the discipline of abstinence. For those unfamiliar with these terms, abstinence means one abstains from eating meat, does not eat meat at specific times. Fish yes, meat no— and if you sell seafood that sounds good; if you’re a butcher, not so much.
Fasting, on the other hand, is what is sounds like. One does not eat. But fasting, in the ways employed in the Lent tradition, does not mean one fails to eat anything. It does mean one strives to limit the amount one eats.
Fasting as a practice during Lent usually consists of consuming two smaller meals— probably breakfast and lunch. Then you get to have a regular third meal in the evening. You also have the option of switching it around and eating a large meal at mid-day, just so long as you ease off in the evening.
However— and this is, I think, where the practice of fasting might have a large impact on your personal habits— this particular discipline of fasting means one should consume nothing between meals— no snacks, no candy. This, of course, is said by the pastor whose church always has a jar of candy sitting in the office tempting anyone, even during Lent.
Now, as I indicated, Lent was distinctive for me when I was young. One reason for that might be the rules recommended now are not quite the same rules recommended when I was young. They changed in 1966.
In our time the prescribed days on which the rules say one should both fast and abstain are Ash Wednesday and Good Friday— that’s really it. The rules also say one should practice abstinence every Friday during Lent.
When I was a child the rules were more— I guess the word I’d use here is stringent— the rules were more stringent. One was expected to fast for all of Lent, excluding Sundays. Sundays were and are considered feast days, holy days, therefore days on which fasting and abstinence were and are not required. Back then— and not many people know this because the rule was widely ignored— one was supposed to abstain from meat not just on Friday but on Saturday also. [1]
That brings me to the topic of rule breaking. Rule breaking is sometimes done with permission and sometimes done without permission.
After all, so many people simply ignored the Saturday abstinence rule back then that most people did not even know it existed— an example of rule breaking without permission. But there is one major example of rule breaking done with permission during Lent.
This rule breaking with permission was done especially by those of us who did not just grow up Catholic but grew up Catholic and Irish and not just those of us who grew up not just Catholic and Irish but grew up Catholic and Irish and lived in New York City. I’m an Irish Catholic New Yorker. That makes me a triple threat.
This rule breaking with permission was done by all Irish Catholic New Yorkers. And the rule breaking done with permission is called Saint Patrick’s Day.
You see, falling as it does on March 17th, there is no way Saint Patrick’s Day ever falls outside of Lent. And observing a fast on Saint Patrick’s Day is hard enough.
But what do you do if Saint Patrick’s Day happens to fall on a Friday when you’re supposed to abstain from meat also? Do you bless some fish and eat it and hope it’s going to taste like Corned Beef? Faith and begorra, no!
That’s where the good Bishops of New York City came into play. On Saint Patrick’s Day they offered a dispensation from the rules. Therefore, no good Irish Catholic New Yorker ever had to observe any of these rules on Saint Patrick’s Day no matter which day of the week it was because the Bishops suspended the rules for the day.
Of course, no good Irish Catholic New Yorker would have ever observed these rules on Saint Patrick’s Day anyway, no matter what any Bishop said. And that’s probably the real reason the Bishops offered a dispensation in the first place. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the work know as Romans: “To sum this up, then: just as a single trespass, a single offense, brought condemnation to all, a single righteous act brought to all acquittal and, therefore, brought to all life.” (Slight pause.)
Maren Tirabassi is a United Church of Christ pastor and a well known poet. She occasionally posts poems of other poets on her web site. This poem posted by Maren is by Katherine Burgess. The poem is described as an evening prayer and described as a prayer for Lent and it is based on the Beatitudes. (Slight pause.)
“I bless the emptiness in our hearts, / Because that leaves a space for God to enter in. / I bless the things in us that touch other people gently, / Because gentleness is the way to reach another.”
“I bless the sadness that sometimes overwhelms us, / Because that will lead others to comfort us. / I bless our yearning for the truth, / Because it can be satisfied in Jesus, the Christ.”
“I bless the mercy and forgiveness that we show others, / Because it reflects God’s mercy and forgiveness / That is extended to us every single day. / I bless the childlike purity in all of our hearts, / For we must become like little children / To see the face of God.”
“I bless you when you are a peacemaker / And grant you God’s peace which passes all understanding. / I bless you in a time of persecution, / For Jesus was... persecuted. / And you will be with Jesus in the dominion of heaven.”
“I bless us with a good sleep / And a peaceful rest / So that tomorrow / We can continue / With God’s work. / Amen.” [2] (Slight pause.)
When the reading from Romans was introduced it was said the writings of Paul can be quite convoluted and that Paul addresses sin, death, the law, the Christ— all in several sentences. I think a key to understanding both Paul and the Letter to the Church in Rome is this simple message: Christ overcomes and even overwhelms the law. Christ overcomes and even overwhelms the rules. Christ overcomes and even overwhelms legalism.
A good Irish Catholic New Yorker would put this way: Christ is our dispensation. Put in a more traditional, simple way, Jesus loves us. And what does the law, any law, any rule, any fast, any abstinence, have to do with the law called love? (Slight pause.)
That thought brings me back to the final words of the poem by Katherine Burgess. “I bless us with a good sleep / And a peaceful rest / So that tomorrow / We can continue / With God’s work.” (Slight pause.)
You see Lent is not about giving anything up. Lent is not about staying within the rules. Lent is not about the law.
Lent is about living out from the law. Lent is about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow after that continuing with God’s work, doing God’s work.
Lent, you see, is not about sacrifice of any kind and not about broken-ness of any kind. We may not be perfect but we are not broken. Christ fixed everything that needed to be fixed so we are not broken. We are all in working order. And the work we need to be about is the work of God.
And what is the work of God? These words and ideas are also from the poem by Katherine Burgess and very much address what we need to do, the work we need to do, in the Season of Lent.
Leave a space for God to enter in. Be gentle. Have a yearning for the truth. Show others mercy and forgiveness.
Seek and see the face of God. Make peace, because the peace of God does pass all understanding. (Slight pause.)
Everything in that list addresses the work of God. And nothing in that list is about rules.
This is about living out from the law, living out from the rules. And that is, perhaps, both the real work and the real challenge of Lent: doing the work of God by living out from the law. Amen.
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: “A clergy colleague recently said if you really, really, really want to give something up for Lent you can. Give up racism, homophobia, fear, sexism, pride, greed, worry, doubt, violence of all kinds— my friends list went on and on. Yes, there is a lot we can give up, from which we might and should abstain. But let’s think about and concentrate on what we can do because I think there is a lot we can do.”
BENEDICTION: Let us learn as faithful disciples of Christ. Let us know that God is available to us at any time and in any place. Let us give thanks for the grace of God in Christ, Jesus. Let us trust in God for all time and for all eternity. 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.
[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent
[2] For the purpose of this manuscript I broke these words into paragraphs. There are no paragraphs in the original poem. There are only line breaks which are shown.
https://giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/2017/02/28/evening-prayer-for-lent/
Broken?
“To sum this up, then: just as a single trespass, a single offense, brought condemnation to all, a single righteous act brought to all acquittal and, therefore, brought to all life.” — Romans 5:18.
Well, as you heard earlier, it is the Season of Lent. Now, many of you know I grew up in the Roman Catholic tradition.
Perhaps as a consequence of that when I was young the changing seasons of the church were quite familiar to me, especially this season— Lent. I think Lent is fixed in my memory because of the traditional Roman practices throughout Lent.
In the Roman Church there are two common practices in which one engages— the discipline of fast and the discipline of abstinence. For those unfamiliar with these terms, abstinence means one abstains from eating meat, does not eat meat at specific times. Fish yes, meat no— and if you sell seafood that sounds good; if you’re a butcher, not so much.
Fasting, on the other hand, is what is sounds like. One does not eat. But fasting, in the ways employed in the Lent tradition, does not mean one fails to eat anything. It does mean one strives to limit the amount one eats.
Fasting as a practice during Lent usually consists of consuming two smaller meals— probably breakfast and lunch. Then you get to have a regular third meal in the evening. You also have the option of switching it around and eating a large meal at mid-day, just so long as you ease off in the evening.
However— and this is, I think, where the practice of fasting might have a large impact on your personal habits— this particular discipline of fasting means one should consume nothing between meals— no snacks, no candy. This, of course, is said by the pastor whose church always has a jar of candy sitting in the office tempting anyone, even during Lent.
Now, as I indicated, Lent was distinctive for me when I was young. One reason for that might be the rules recommended now are not quite the same rules recommended when I was young. They changed in 1966.
In our time the prescribed days on which the rules say one should both fast and abstain are Ash Wednesday and Good Friday— that’s really it. The rules also say one should practice abstinence every Friday during Lent.
When I was a child the rules were more— I guess the word I’d use here is stringent— the rules were more stringent. One was expected to fast for all of Lent, excluding Sundays. Sundays were and are considered feast days, holy days, therefore days on which fasting and abstinence were and are not required. Back then— and not many people know this because the rule was widely ignored— one was supposed to abstain from meat not just on Friday but on Saturday also. [1]
That brings me to the topic of rule breaking. Rule breaking is sometimes done with permission and sometimes done without permission.
After all, so many people simply ignored the Saturday abstinence rule back then that most people did not even know it existed— an example of rule breaking without permission. But there is one major example of rule breaking done with permission during Lent.
This rule breaking with permission was done especially by those of us who did not just grow up Catholic but grew up Catholic and Irish and not just those of us who grew up not just Catholic and Irish but grew up Catholic and Irish and lived in New York City. I’m an Irish Catholic New Yorker. That makes me a triple threat.
This rule breaking with permission was done by all Irish Catholic New Yorkers. And the rule breaking done with permission is called Saint Patrick’s Day.
You see, falling as it does on March 17th, there is no way Saint Patrick’s Day ever falls outside of Lent. And observing a fast on Saint Patrick’s Day is hard enough.
But what do you do if Saint Patrick’s Day happens to fall on a Friday when you’re supposed to abstain from meat also? Do you bless some fish and eat it and hope it’s going to taste like Corned Beef? Faith and begorra, no!
That’s where the good Bishops of New York City came into play. On Saint Patrick’s Day they offered a dispensation from the rules. Therefore, no good Irish Catholic New Yorker ever had to observe any of these rules on Saint Patrick’s Day no matter which day of the week it was because the Bishops suspended the rules for the day.
Of course, no good Irish Catholic New Yorker would have ever observed these rules on Saint Patrick’s Day anyway, no matter what any Bishop said. And that’s probably the real reason the Bishops offered a dispensation in the first place. (Slight pause.)
We hear these words in the work know as Romans: “To sum this up, then: just as a single trespass, a single offense, brought condemnation to all, a single righteous act brought to all acquittal and, therefore, brought to all life.” (Slight pause.)
Maren Tirabassi is a United Church of Christ pastor and a well known poet. She occasionally posts poems of other poets on her web site. This poem posted by Maren is by Katherine Burgess. The poem is described as an evening prayer and described as a prayer for Lent and it is based on the Beatitudes. (Slight pause.)
“I bless the emptiness in our hearts, / Because that leaves a space for God to enter in. / I bless the things in us that touch other people gently, / Because gentleness is the way to reach another.”
“I bless the sadness that sometimes overwhelms us, / Because that will lead others to comfort us. / I bless our yearning for the truth, / Because it can be satisfied in Jesus, the Christ.”
“I bless the mercy and forgiveness that we show others, / Because it reflects God’s mercy and forgiveness / That is extended to us every single day. / I bless the childlike purity in all of our hearts, / For we must become like little children / To see the face of God.”
“I bless you when you are a peacemaker / And grant you God’s peace which passes all understanding. / I bless you in a time of persecution, / For Jesus was... persecuted. / And you will be with Jesus in the dominion of heaven.”
“I bless us with a good sleep / And a peaceful rest / So that tomorrow / We can continue / With God’s work. / Amen.” [2] (Slight pause.)
When the reading from Romans was introduced it was said the writings of Paul can be quite convoluted and that Paul addresses sin, death, the law, the Christ— all in several sentences. I think a key to understanding both Paul and the Letter to the Church in Rome is this simple message: Christ overcomes and even overwhelms the law. Christ overcomes and even overwhelms the rules. Christ overcomes and even overwhelms legalism.
A good Irish Catholic New Yorker would put this way: Christ is our dispensation. Put in a more traditional, simple way, Jesus loves us. And what does the law, any law, any rule, any fast, any abstinence, have to do with the law called love? (Slight pause.)
That thought brings me back to the final words of the poem by Katherine Burgess. “I bless us with a good sleep / And a peaceful rest / So that tomorrow / We can continue / With God’s work.” (Slight pause.)
You see Lent is not about giving anything up. Lent is not about staying within the rules. Lent is not about the law.
Lent is about living out from the law. Lent is about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow after that continuing with God’s work, doing God’s work.
Lent, you see, is not about sacrifice of any kind and not about broken-ness of any kind. We may not be perfect but we are not broken. Christ fixed everything that needed to be fixed so we are not broken. We are all in working order. And the work we need to be about is the work of God.
And what is the work of God? These words and ideas are also from the poem by Katherine Burgess and very much address what we need to do, the work we need to do, in the Season of Lent.
Leave a space for God to enter in. Be gentle. Have a yearning for the truth. Show others mercy and forgiveness.
Seek and see the face of God. Make peace, because the peace of God does pass all understanding. (Slight pause.)
Everything in that list addresses the work of God. And nothing in that list is about rules.
This is about living out from the law, living out from the rules. And that is, perhaps, both the real work and the real challenge of Lent: doing the work of God by living out from the law. Amen.
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: “A clergy colleague recently said if you really, really, really want to give something up for Lent you can. Give up racism, homophobia, fear, sexism, pride, greed, worry, doubt, violence of all kinds— my friends list went on and on. Yes, there is a lot we can give up, from which we might and should abstain. But let’s think about and concentrate on what we can do because I think there is a lot we can do.”
BENEDICTION: Let us learn as faithful disciples of Christ. Let us know that God is available to us at any time and in any place. Let us give thanks for the grace of God in Christ, Jesus. Let us trust in God for all time and for all eternity. 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.
[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent
[2] For the purpose of this manuscript I broke these words into paragraphs. There are no paragraphs in the original poem. There are only line breaks which are shown.
https://giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/2017/02/28/evening-prayer-for-lent/
Sunday, February 26, 2017
SERMON ~ 02/26/2017 ~ “Kabod”
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.
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 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.
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