Late Christmas Eve 2014-- "The Hopes & Fears..."

 

"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee [Bethlehem] tonight." So wrote Philip Brooks and so we sang in the carol "O Little Town of Bethlehem" a little while ago. "The hopes and fears of all the years..."

"It’s been a punishing year in the news," David Green commented this morning on Morning Edition. That’s certainly one way to put it. You know the list–beheadings, school bombings, school shootings, police shootings, demonstrations, ISIS, Syria, Ebola, floods, fires, climate change, children at our borders without adults, and that’s just in national and international news. What punishing news has happened in your personal life? A job loss? A tough diagnosis of your health? The loss of a loved one? Divorce? "The hopes and fears of all the years..."

How about hopes? What are the hopes that you bring to this night? We have a wedding coming up this year, and so I am hoping for a stress-free, sunny day for that, but, more importantly, for a lifelong love for my daughter and son-in-law. How about you? Are you hoping for continued remission of cancer? A new job? A new relationship? Reconciliation with an estranged family member or friend? Retirement? A long-awaited vacation? Relief from depression and anxiety? Getting a handle on an addiction?

On a national and international level, we perhaps share many of the same hopes–hope for a deep healing of the racial divide in our country, relief for so many mothers and fathers of African-American boys and young men who fear for their lives, hope for the majority of poor and middle-class families and individuals who struggle daily to make ends meet, to put food on the table, to keep or get a decent roof over their heads, to get needed healthcare; hope for a narrowing of the gap between the 99 and the 1%; hope for a Congress that actually keeps the common, greater good in mind, rather than narrow, self-interests and partisan posturing; hope for an end to all wars, hope for an end to the poisoning of the atmosphere and waters and soil of the planet; so many hopes...

"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee [o little town of Bethlehem] tonight." Phillips Brooks is said to have written this poem after having ridden on horseback from Jerusalem to Bethlehem across the "Field of the Shepherds" on Christmas Eve in 1865. Back then, and even more so back when Mary and Joseph approached it, it looked little and defenseless. Talk about your backwater town, your hiccup in a Roman army drinking song. Today, of course, it’s surrounded by a wall to keep the Palestinians in–or out–or wherever they’re not supposed to be. Just a little town, a point of nothingness...

Thomas Merton wrote that there is an untouchable place in each one of us–a pointe vierge, as he called it

"At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God... from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness... is so to speak His name written in us... It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely."

This is the open space, an empty manger, if you will, a virgin womb. It is there that God enters in. It is from there that the divine human in each of us grows. When our defenses are down, when our cynicism is checked for a moment, maybe when our weariness kicks in and we are utterly open, there is indeed the possibility that God will be born in us.

So we bring our hopes and fears for ourselves and our world tonight. Is it just childish naivete that lets us hope for something new to be born in us and in our world? The not naive or sentimental historian Howard Zinn once wrote this–

To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fat that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places–and there are so many–where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we thing human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory. (Source unknown–from newsletter)

Just this past Monday an article on Slate.com entitled, "The World Is Not Falling Apart," commented on the apparent ratcheting up of bad news and despair--

How can we get a less hyperbolic assessment of the state of the world? Certainly not from daily journalism. News is about things that happen, not things that don’t happen. We never see a reporter saying to the camera, "Here we are, live from a country where a war has not broken out"—or a city that has not been bombed, or a school that has not been shot up. As long as violence has not vanished from the world, there will always be enough incidents to fill the evening news. And since the human mind estimates probability by the ease with which it can recall examples, newsreaders will always perceive that they live in dangerous times. All the more so when billions of smartphones turn a fifth of the world’s population into crime reporters and war correspondents.

A careful, objective look at murder rates, rates of violence against women and children, wars between states, democratization, and number of civilians killed in mass killings or genocides since the 1940's shows a decline in every indicator. "Look at the trend lines," Bill Clinton said, "not the headlines." "The world is not falling apart," conclude these authors Steve Pinker and Andrew Mack.

"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." We come tonight with our hopes and fears and at this table, the God of the universe becomes embodied in our flesh. The God who is energy and light and love, justice and peace and hope, becomes a vulnerable child, a pointe vierge, and climbs up into our laps to love and be loved by us. This bread becomes God’s body and our body, the cup becomes God’s blood, our blood. The hopes and fears of all the years are met here tonight, so may our hopes empower us and our fears not paralyze us.

May this prayer of Thomas Merton, who saw his hopes and fears wrapped up in all the people he saw that day on the street corner in Louisville, be our prayer tonight–

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. [from Thoughts in Solitude]

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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front news 12/20

Sunday December 21st we lit the 4th candle, the Candle of Love, and children presented the Christmas pageant. After worship, a Birthday party for Jesus was celebrated with sandwiches and cake. Carolers left from the church at 1pm to serenade the homebound.

Christmas Eve Services:

Wed., Dec. 24, at 5 pm. Through lessons, carols, and candles, we hear and tell the story. Our Second Congo Brass will play Music of the Season, beginning at 4:30, and the Jubellaire Ringers and Chancel Choir will offer anthems of hope and joy.

Also on Christmas Eve at 10 pm. will be a more contemplative, simple service of carols, candles, and communion.

A free will offering for the Emergency Fuel and Food Fund will be taken at both Christmas Eve Services

If you are interested in being part of the Pickup Choir at the 10pm Christmas Eve service speak to Mary or Bruce Lee-Clark

If you would like to bring a poinsettia for the Christmas Eve service please have it here by 10 am on Wednesday. Please remember to label your flower with your name and given in memory/honor of.

Christmas Flowers are given by:

Jan & Dick Fabricius in memory of loved ones
Lara Frenzel-Clark for her grandparents Mr. & Mrs. Walt Clark & family. And for her brother, Jeremy Frenzel.
Marjorie LaRowe in memory of her mother, Marjorie LaRowe
Mary & Bruce Lee-Clark in memory of loved ones
Norma & Ted Thomas in memory of loved ones
Syd & Marilyn Russell in memory of Patricia Urban
Beth Wallace in memory of Mary F. Skidmore

Looking ahead:

On Sunday, December 28th, at our 10 o'clock Sunday worship, when we'll sing the story through carols of your choosing. No Godly Play this morning, though nursery care will be available, so children are invited to sing with us.

Sunday, December 28th, at 3pm join St. James Episcopal Church in the Messiah Sing-Along! Whether you sing along, hum, or simply listen you’ll be delighted with this 10th annual Messiah Program, directed by Scott Smidinghoff. The program includes the Advent and Christmas section of Handel’s choral masterpiece, as well as the Hallelujah Chorus. A chamber orchestra and a talented vocal soloist Katie Beck, Robyn Madison, Rev. Scott Neal and Mark Madison will accompany the chorus. Just show up and bring your voice, enthusiasm and holiday spirit!

Tuesday, January 6th, the Trustees meet at 7 pm in Room 6.

Tuesday, January 13th, will be the date of the next Administrative Council meeting at 7pm.

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front announce 12/20

Come, Seek, Pray, Learn

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” wrote the great poet and author Maya Angelou. At Second Congregational Church, on this last Sunday in June, 2 weeks after the killings in Charleston, SC, Rev. Mary Lee-Clark will reflect on our response to that tragedy and the long-standing wounds of our nation, in her sermon entitled, “The Caged Bird.” Worship begins at 10 a.m., and all people of faith or in search of faith are welcome. Scripture readings include King David’s lament over Saul and Jonathan in 2 Samuel and two healing stories from Mark’s gospel. New members will be received.
Second Congregational Church is an Open and Affirming congregation of the United Church of Christ. We welcome all to our work and worship, without regard to age, race, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation. Our building is located at 115 Hillside St. and is wheelchair-accessible. Nursery care is provided. For further information, call the church office at 802-442-2559.

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“Good News!?”-- Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, Luke 1:46-55-- Dec. 14, 2014

 

Some have suggested that we not light the Candle of Joy today; that to light such a candle flies in the face of all the grief and suffering and rage in our nation and world--

How can we light a candle of joy when there is so little joy in far too many lives –writes our Associate Conference Minister, The Rev. Pam Lucas in an alternative candlelighting liturgy--
So little joy even in our Christmas story –
as Jesus’ life will be threatened by the world’s power –
as babies under the age of two will be slaughtered in the attempt to eliminate the child Jesus –
as Jesus and his family will be forced to flee as undocumented immigrants to Egypt -
As Jesus would grow up and be nailed to a cross as a political prisoner.

... when hope and [peace] are denied to any one of God’s children –
how dare we light a candle of JOY when there are still lives considered to be expendable - of lesser or of no value.
And so on this 3rd Sunday of Advent
(we will not light the candle of joy because) OR
(we light this candle of Joy even as we remember that…)
there is no joy in injustice –
there is no joy when there is no hope –
and there is no joy where there is hatred -
and there is no joy when we continue to weep for young lives ending too soon –

Yet we also remember God did not leave us on our own. Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us – now and always.

Obviously, we did light the Candle of Joy this morning, even as we lit the Candles of Hope and Peace, but the context in which we light them is essential to remember. Just as it is important to remember the context in which our readings from Isaiah and Luke were set.

Isaiah–now the third writer in this book using the name Isaiah –this Isaiah was addressing the exiles returned to their homeland, along with those who had been left behind in Babylon’s deportation of the elite of Judah.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,” this Isaiah cries, “for the Lord has anointed me and sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; ...They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities; the devastations of many generations.”

Ruins were the context of this Isaiah. Depression. Mourning. Power struggles.
Devastation. When the Babylonian armies had left with their captives, the fires and smoldering ruins of the cities and countryside of Judah had been left behind, along with the “non-elites.” Solomon’s gloriousTemple was a pile of rubble. Not much had changed when the exiles returned, 2 generations later, and the people who had been left behind were just as tired and discouraged as the exiles. They weren’t overly thrilled to have these unknown exiles and family members back and assuming they would resume their leadership roles. “Joy” was not exactly abounding. “Good news” was hard to come by.

Yet here is Isaiah, singing a song of love and energy–
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, he sings, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

Depression and hopelessness are good news for those in power, for they keep things the way they are. Energy and hope, on the other hand, are good news for those who do not benefit from the status quo, for only then are things likely to change. Demonstrations in cities across the country, the “die-ins” by black Congressional staffers on the steps of Capitol Hill, professional sports players raising their hands in solidarity, ...I believe these are all signs of the Spirit of the God of justice at work, stirring things up. God is at work in the ruins. God is calling us to be partners in this work of rebuilding, just as God called the people of Judah through the prophet Isaiah to be about planting new gardens, building bridges, restoring hope.

Just so Mary’s song, called Magnificat from its first word in Latin, sings of old, entrenched ways being turned upside down.

My soul magnifies the Lord, Mary sings, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant...He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty...

If you’re familiar with Bach’s Magnificat, you know the energy and excitement Mary’s song embodies. Something is definitely afoot. “Somethin’s coming, something good,” as Leonard Bernstein’s West Side Story song says. But that “something good” wasn’t patently obvious to Mary. Here she was young and unmarried, “with child” in a most extraordinary way. The more usual outcome would be stoning as an adulteress or abandonment by Joseph and the life of an outcast.

“Your vocation,” your calling, writes Frederick Buechner, “is where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” (Wishful Thinking) Your deep gladness. I think that is how we need to think of “joy” on this Third Sunday in Advent. Not entertainment, not cheap thrills or substance-induced giddiness, not a surface phenomenon but deep gladness. What makes you feel glad to be alive? What music is the deepest, truest song of your heart? Have you ever stopped to listen for it?

If that song or that gladness is deep enough, of course, it won’t be just your song or your gladness. It will be fed from that even deeper Source that runs through all life. And so it will be directed to the world’s deep hunger, as Buechner says, from the spring that lies deep in your heart.

“Mary was able to magnify God,” writes Carl Gregg, “because she was humbly open to the unexpected new life God was birthing within her, inviting us to echo her prayer, Let it be, Let it be. Let it be.” [patheos, 12/1/11] “Whisper words of wisdom,” the Beatles said, “let it be.” May it be so, Mary said. Can we be still enough, quiet enough, open enough, to let the unexpected new life God is birthing within us emerge and join with others to bring about a new creation?

Nobel Prize winner Leymah Gbowee writes of a dream she had in the midst of the war that ravaged her homeland of Liberia from 1989-2003. “Gather the women to pray for peace!” the vision said. She told her dream to her Lutheran women’s prayer group, and the leader of the group prayed, “Thank you for supplying us with this vision. Give us your blessing, Lord, and offer us your protection and guidance in helping us to understand what it means.” It was the start of the Liberian women’s peace movement.

The women shared their stories. All of them had seen and suffered horrors, of husbands and sons hacked before their eyes, of cocaine-crazed child soldiers roaming the countryside. About 20 Lutheran women met every Tuesday at noon to pray. One meeting a Muslim woman introduced herself and said she wanted to join them. “Praise the Lord!” the Christian women cried and an alliance was formed. Training sessions and workshops followed. The women passed out brochures and marched to city hall. Three days a week for 6 months they visited mosques, the markets, and the churches of Monrovia. “Liberian Women,” they cried. “Awake for peace!”

The women finally forced Charles Taylor into peace talks. They barricaded the reluctant, do-nothing men inside the talks until they reached an agreement. Disarmament followed. Voters were registered, and Liberians elected Ellen Johnson Sirleaf as the first woman President of an African nation. “Who were these women?” ‘I will say,’ says Gbowee, ‘they are ordinary mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters. They sowed bitter tears. They went out weeping. And they acted on their dreams of peace, joy, and laughter for their beloved country.” (Cited by Dan Clendenin, Journey with Jesus, 12/5/11)

Ordinary people, humbly open to God, to their dreams and their deepest longings, fully aware of the deep hunger of the world. “The truth is,” wrote M. Scott Peck, “that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.” [cited by Kate Huey in Sermon Seeds, 12/14/14]

“This Advent, how is God calling you to sing new lyrics to Mary’s song?” another writer asks. [Carl Gregg, op cit.] How is the Spirit moving within you such that in the new year your soul may ever more fully magnify God?” All of us–prophets and those terrified of speaking in public, young women and men, children who see the world through innocent eyes and elders who see with new eyes, a second naivete, even, ordinary people, like shepherds on a hillside–all of us, are called to bear witness to the mighty love of God, which even now, in the midst of ruins, is dismantling injustice, lifting up the lowly, planting new gardens. That mighty Love is calling us to be partners in this new creation, using our gifts, our talents, our skills, our unique songs. So may our joy, our deep gladness, increase and burst into bloom, and along with Hope, Peace, and Love, be born anew in our world. May it be so.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"In the wilderness..cry"-- Isaiah 40:1-11, Mark 1:1-8-- Dec. 7, 2014

 

There’s no punctuation in Hebrew or Greek, so know that all those verse numbers and chapter headings in your Bible are very late afterthoughts. "Never place a period where God has put a comma" is not only the UCC’s way of saying "God is still speaking," it’s also good Biblical translation practice.

Today’s readings from Isaiah and Mark are full of ambiguities–is it a voice in the wilderness crying out, "Prepare the way of the Lord"? Or is it "a voice cries, ‘In the wilderness prepare the way!’"? Does it matter? It matters if you’re trying to figure out what the voice is trying to tell you–go into the wilderness to prepare, or is it simply that the voice in the wilderness is calling you to prepare the way right where you are?

And then there’s Isaiah’s image of the God who is coming "with might, and his arm rules for him," and in the next sentence those mighty arms of God are gathering the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and gently leading the mother sheep." Which is it? Might or gentleness? The answer, of course, is "yes."

Which people is God telling Isaiah to comfort? The exiles in Babylon, far from home, or the early Christians, longing to understand who Jesus was and what God was doing through him? Again, the answer is "yes." And what about us? Are we the afflicted needing to be comforted, or are we the comfortable needing to be afflicted? You guessed it: "yes."

And what about the Peace for which we lit the candle today. Can we honestly pray for peace, or do we need to hear the words of that other prophet, Jeremiah, who said, "They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace." (Jer. 8:11) What wounds of our nation and world have we treated carelessly, and so have no right to declare "Peace, peace"?

And finally, what about that beginning of Mark’s gospel? What kind of sentence is that–

"The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God." Where’s the verb? It sounds more like a title than a first sentence. Where’s the baby? The shepherds? The magi? It starts with John in the wilderness? Yes.

These Advent texts seem as full of shadows and wildness and murkiness as the Christmas Eve texts seem to us so radiant and mild and familiar. As the daylight in our part of the world gets shorter and dimmer this time of year, so the darkness of these texts comes to be appropriate. In fact, I was reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, Learning to Walk in the Dark Tuesday evening when the power went out. Pitch blackness. I noticed that my response to being alone in the dark was much less panicky than it might have been, or has been at other times. OK, I thought, let’s see what I’ve learned about walking in the dark.

What lessons might there be for us in this dark season which stands in such stark contrast to the glitter and wattage and full-press busyness of our culture’s season? How might the voices of Isaiah and John instruct us out there in the wilderness...or is it here, right where we are?

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God [through Isaiah]. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid... A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

This Isaiah is in sharp contrast to the Isaiah of the first 39 chapters. That "First Isaiah," writing in the 8^th c. Before the Common Era, had lambasted the people of Judah for oppressing the poor, taking advantage of the widows and orphans, putting their trust in foreign armies, abandoning the way of God. The "Second Isaiah" whose voice we read beginning in chapter 40 is speaking to a people in exile, far from home and hope, settled into the inertia of the habits of their captors, accommodating to where they found themselves. "Get you up to a high mountain!" Isaiah cries to them. "Lift up your voice with strength!" Receive the energizing, renewing word of God and let your imagination fly with images of valleys being lifted up and mountains and hills made low, of highways being carved into the desert. The powers that be would have you drugged and drowsy, taking no risks, going through the motions. "Get thee up!..Behold your God!"

"I think we are in fact exiles from our homes and hope," writes Old Testament professor John Holbert.

Our home is in God, who calls us to love our neighbor, to care for the poor, to serve the very least of these; all that was and is the call of Judaism to its adherents long before it was a call to Christians. Our hope is in the call and presence of God, not in our Gross National Product, our stock portfolios, our well-accoutered selves. We are in exile in more ways than we can [count]. (Patheos, 12/2/14)

Can we imagine ways needing to be straightened through the streets of Ferguson, MO or New York City? How about through the halls of Congress or the White House? What inequalities need to be leveled out? What rough places made plain? How can we make a highway for our God in the neighborhoods of Africa where Ebola ravages? Or the villages and refugee camps where the people of Syria and Iraq flee from the brutality of ISIS? How about through our church, or our lives? Get up–lift up your voice with strength, cries God! How else do you think I’m going to act, let alone "come"?!

"All people are grass..." Isaiah says. Even nations are grass. "... The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever." God’s energy endures. "Get you up to a high mountain, herald of good tidings...." God is not only the source of order, but also the disturber, the bringer of change and unrest, who shakes things up, as Process Theologian John Cobb says. (Cited by Michael Joseph Brown, HuffPost, 12/5/14) That’s what "the law and the prophets" is about–order and change.

"The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" Mark’s gospel begins, or is entitled. It’s the beginning of a movement, not just of Jesus’ followers, what we call the "Christian movement," but the larger movement of God’s work, having been in the works since Isaiah and Malachi, since The Beginning, really, when God’s Spirit moved over the face of the deep. Mark’s gospel begins on the road, in the middle of nowhere, not in the center of power, which tends to become a black hole of inertia.

"Prepare the way of the Lord," John cries. "Make his paths straight.""John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins." This baptism is more like "being drowned and brought back to life" than being cleaned up or sprinkled, one writer observes (Peter Lockhart, A Different Heresy," 12/2/14) We prefer the dabbing to the drowning, of course. We’d like to think that all is needed is a little course correction, but John would adjust our spiritual GPS so that we are headed in the direction of God’s new age." (Bruce Epperly, The Adventurous Lectionary, 12/7/14) Get rid of your excess baggage, he says, which we’ve done this week in the Serendipity Sale! But more than that–focus on the essential. You’ll rediscover your life, the life God intends for you, of wholeness, of joy, of connection.

Sharron Blezard suggests that John the Baptist has at least 5 lessons for us. You may not want to follow John’s tips for fashion or diet, but these lessons are worth wrestling with–1. Get out of your comfort zone; 2. Be yourself and be true to your calling; 3. Know and live the message you’re trying to convey. "Marinate yourself in the gospel," Michael Frost says. "Steep yourself in God reality" is the way Eugene Peterson puts it. 4. Know Whose you are and why you do what you do; and 5. Be bold. [Sharron Blezard, Stewardship of the Gospel, 12/2/14)

"Comfort, O comfort my people," God says to us in this dark time, this time of repentance, of pondering, of pausing. Know that God’s comfort has little or nothing to do with consuming or self-sufficiency. (Mark Ryan, ekklesia project, 12/4/14) But know also that God can be found in the darkness as well as in the light, despite what our Christian tradition has too often taught: light is good, dark is bad. After all, God created the light AND the darkness and named each one. It is at night that the stars appear, nighttime when the heavenly host appeared to the shepherds, nighttime when Jesus was born, nighttime when Jesus was raised from the dead.

We can learn to walk in the darkness–the darkness of sorrow or sickness, the darkness of turmoil or upset, the dark night of the soul, the darkness of our national unrest and festering racism, the darkness of planetary warming and climate change. God does not abandon us in the darkness or in the wilderness. In fact, it is there that we are called to make a way. Hear the voice crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord!"

It was at night when Jesus sat at table with his friends, when he broke bread and drank wine, telling them, Take and eat, take and drink, this is my body and blood which are for you and for everyone, for the forgiveness of sins, for the taking away of the separation between you and God. So let us set the table. Prepare the way. May it be so.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

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News 12/0/14

This week at Second Congregational Church

Sunday, December 7th
5 pm Sunday Supper
7 pm Bible Conversation at the Lee-Clarks’


Tuesday, December 9th - Trustees Meeting at 7pm in room 6.
Tuesday, December 9th - Deacons meeting in the Clayton Room 7pm - 8pm
Wednesday, December 10th - Next Level Task Force meet at 7:30pm.
Thursday, December 11th - Relay for Life in the Webster Hall from 5pm - 8pm.

Looking ahead:

Sunday December 14th - The Giving Tree gifts should be returned to the church, in Christmas wrapping, on Sundays14th. The gifts will then be distributed to the agencies during the following week, so that their recipients have them prior to Christmas Day.


We want to hear from you. Sunday December 14th is the Open Door article submission deadline. Please have your articles submitted to the office. You can submit by email office@bennscc.org or drop a hard copy on my desk.


If you wish to have a poinsettia on the altar for Christmas please have it in the sanctuary by Saturday, December 20th at 11am. (Or in the kitchen on the counter by the door) Please let the flower committee or the office how you with it noted in the bulletin and Open Door. (Given by, In memory of, etc.) If you will be away or prefer the flower committee to purchase a plant for you please let Jan Fabricius, Grace Sohn or Mary Johnson know.


Our Christmas Pageant will be held Sunday, December 21st during the 10am service. Join us after the service to celebrate Jesus’ birthday in the Webster Hall. Then join us for Caroling at 1pm.

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Mary's Piece 12/0/14

“Second Congregational Church, UCC celebrates the Second Sunday in Advent this week, beginning with worship at 10 o’clock on Sunday morning. We light the Second Advent candle—the candle of Peace—as we share signs of hope observed throughout the week. Following this Time for the Children in All of Us, children up through grade 5 are dismissed for Godly Play and the Middle- and High-school Class gathers. Nursery care is provided throughout worship. Rev. Mary Lee-Clark’s sermon, based on the readings from Isaiah and Mark, is entitled, “In the Wilderness…Cry.” All are then invited to participate in the Sacrament of Holy Communion.


A time of fellowship and refreshment for the whole church family follows in Webster Hall. Opportunities for Alternative Gift-giving from Heifer Project International and Lucy Lights are available, and Giving Tree Gifts are welcome.


Second Congregational Church welcomes all people of faith or in search of faith, without regard to age, race, sex, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation. Our building is located on Hillside St. and is wheelchair accessible. For further information, contact the church office at 442-2559 or see our website at www.bennscc.org

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"Hope...and Dread"-- Isaiah 64:1-9, Mark 13:24-37-- Nov. 30, 2014

 

When I was growing up, I had an Advent calendar, which I would open one window at a time in anticipation of Christmas Eve, but that’s about all I remember of Advent. We may have sung "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" at the beginning of December, but then we sang Christmas carols. Maybe we didn’t need the season of Advent 50 years ago, though the wisdom of our tradition has known better than that for centuries. Today, with the Christmas Machine growing more powerful, more ravenous, more ruthless by the year, Advent is like David and his slingshot standing up to Goliath and his massive armor. "Hold on a minute–or a month," Advent demands. "Yes, our economy depends on these 4, 5, 8 weeks of consumer spending, but is our economy the god we really want to worship? What’s it done for the majority of us lately?"

Debie Thomas writes that four weeks ago a 16-year-old boy in her town walked to the railroad tracks on the edge of town shortly after midnight, waited for the train, and stepped in front of it. Since 2009, she says, 7 teenagers have done the same thing. Fearing a cluster of copycats, the town has stationed police officers on the spot. "I pass those officers several times in the course of a day," Thomas writes, "and each time I glimpse their faces, I wonder: when they signed up to become cops, did they ever dream they’d spend their days like this? Keeping watch so our children won’t die of despair?" (D. Thomas, journeywithjesus, 11/24/14)

"O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!" Isaiah cries to God, "so that the mountains would quake at your presence–as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil...When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence." What we need is a Big God to do Big Things, Israel cried in the face of the Babylonian armies, as the elite were marched off to Babylon and the rest of the population were left behind in a devastated landscape. "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!"

The residents of Ferguson, MO–and Afrrican Americans all over the country-- are crying out too for a Big God to do Big Things. "Black Lives Matter!" they cry, whether or not the specific case of Michael Brown’s death warrants an indictment, for the pain and prejudice go far deeper than any one incident. "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!"

"Black Friday" sales begin before Thanksgiving is over. "It’s the most wonderful time of the year" is heard on our tv’s well before that. Nora Gallagher writes that she is "hungry for the ‘counterweight of liturgical time,’" [cited by Thomas, op cit.] the weight of a season of pausing, of praying, of repenting, of discerning, set against that other time of rushing, of partying, of indulging, of mindlessness that our culture demands.

And so our altar and pulpit and lectern are draped in purple and blue, the colors of remorse, penitence, and pre- dawn, "a ritual warning us not to greet God prematurely or presumptuously," as James Brenneman puts it. [cited by Kate Huey, weeklyseeds, 11/30/14] Most of the hymns we will sing this month are Advent hymns and many are in a minor key. We may want Christmas to feel the way it used to feel, and so would prefer to skip directly to Christmas carols and red and green streamers, but we need this time, if we are ever to come to genuine hope, which must be "aligned to reality, not to our own deadly self-delusions," as Kate Huey puts it so wisely. (Ibid.)

"O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!" Isaiah begged. "But in those days," Jesus warned, "after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." These are images of a world utterly in need of a new beginning, of a total "do-over." As much as we may want to cling to the God of love whose mercy is boundless and who is able to clean up all our messes, that is not the full portrait of the God whom Isaiah and Jesus addressed. "The biblical God refuses to do nothing," OT professor Matthew Schlimm writes.

"Our God opposes all who harm other human beings or creation. Our God grows angry when children suffer, when people live in mansions while others are homeless, when corporations pollute God’s beautiful world. A god who responds to evil with nothing more than calm I-love-you’s: that’s the very definition of an evil deity. If our theology is going to work amid the rubble of Gaza, the beheadings in Iraq, and those gunned down by racism, then it needs a God capable of growing angry." [Christian Century, Nov. 26, 2014, p. 20]

Slow down. Take a minute–or a month–to prepare. Don’t let your preoccupation with Christmas gifts prevent you from receiving the gifts that Advent has to offer. Debie Thomas suggests there are at least three such gifts–

The first is "permission to tell the truth." The world is not okay. Yes, there are still good people doing good things, the earth is filled with amazing beauty, but my friends, all is not right with the world. Grief is a far more honest and ultimately helpful response than denial. The color purple that calls us to repentance is justified. "Confession" means telling the truth. Advent gives us permission to tell the truth, so take some time to look deeply at your own life and the life that we have all bought in to. Go deep, instead of wide, this month.

A second gift of Advent is the "gift–and discipline–of waiting." We now have at our fingers instant information. Our technology makes buying, doing, communicating, knowing mind-bogglingly fast. For just a few extra dollars, you can get what you want delivered to your door overnight. And all those lists that we make during December–lists of things to do, things to buy, ...–just beg for us to cross items off them. Get Christmas tree–check. Order fruit for Aunt Martha–check. Find the cookie cutters–check. Wrap presents–check. Advent reminds us that there are some things that are still unfinished, unformed, and there are lessons for us in the "powerlessness of waiting." (Sam Wells, Faith and Leadership, 11/27/11) Eugene Peterson des- cribes the Christian life as "a long obedience in the same direction"–talk about counter-cultural! Advent reminds us that things worth waiting for happen in the dark...

Thirdly, Thomas says, "Advent prepares us for the God who is coming, who may be very different from the one we expect or even hope for." Isaiah prayed for a Big God to come and do Big Things. Who would have noticed a baby being born to a peasant couple? A healer living among the poor? A man hung on a Roman cross?

"We enter this season," Walter Brueggemann says, "in a spirit of yearning for that which would be too good to be true: some new and unique expression of God’s intention to save a world gone wrong." (Cited in Kate Huey, op cit.) Are we hopeful enough, alert enough, to perceive it?

"But about that day or hour no one knows," Jesus said, "Neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert. For you do not know when the time will come...And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."

The world as it is right now–comfortable for many of us, absolutely deadly for so many others–the world as it is cannot stand. We cannot go on ignoring the God of justice or the laws built into the fabric of the web of life on our planet forever. Our nation cannot continue on its greedy, voracious path which benefits the few at the expense of the many. One modern day prophet writes:

If allowed to continue, this process will turn the Untied States into a declining, unfair society with an impoverished, angry, uneducated population under the control of a small, ultrawealthy elite. Such a society would be not only immoral, but eventually unstable, dangerously ripe for religious and political extremism. (Charles Ferguson, cited in W. Brueggemann, Reality, Grief, Hope, pp. 35-6)

The world is already ending for many of our brothers and sisters–the world that they have known, as they grieve the death of loved ones or relationships, or the world as it is. Our hope, if we are to have any, must be deeper. Our imagination must be richer than Christmas commercials. Let your imagination roam in this blessing by Jan Richardson, who marks the one-year anniversary of her husband’s death–

Blessing When the World is Ending

Look, the world

is always ending

somewhere.

Somewhere

the sun has come

crashing down.

Somewhere

it has gone

completely dark.

Somewhere

it has ended

with the gun

the knife

the fist.

Somewhere

it has ended

with the slammed door

the shattered hope.

Somewhere

it has ended

with the utter quiet

that follows the news

from the phone

the television

the hospital room.

Somewhere

it has ended

with a tenderness

that will break

your heart.

But, listen,

this blessing means

to be anything

but morose.

It has not come

to cause despair.

It is simply here

because there is nothing

a blessing

is better suited for

than an ending,

nothing that cries out more

for a blessing

than when a world

is falling apart.

This blessing

will not fix you

will not mend you

will not give you

false comfort;

it will not talk to you

about one door opening

when another one closes.

It will simply

sit itself beside you

among the shards

and gently turn your face

toward the direction

from which the light

will come,

gathering itself

about you

as the world begins

again.

– Jan Richardson ( http://adventdoor.com/2014/11/23)

So this Advent, "Be patient. Be still. Hope fiercely. Deep in the gathering dark, something tender is forming. Something beautiful–something for the world’s saving–waits to be born." (Debie Thomas, op cit.) May we keep alert–and wait. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

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