"Right Now, Here, This Child" -James 3:13-4:3, 7-8, Mark 9:30-37-- Sept. 20, 2015

It is amazing how contemporary some ancient conversations sound. When Jesus asked the disciples what they were arguing about on the way, "they were silent, [Mark tells us], for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest." The 2015–or 1915 or 1995-- version of this little conversation is, Mom or Dad: "What were you guys doing?" Kids: "Nothing." Uh huh.

"Nothing that we were supposed to be doing," is the complete version of that answer, and indeed, the disciples knew that arguing about who among them was the greatest was hardly the right follow-up to Jesus’ telling them for the second time that the Son of Humanity–by which he seemed to mean himself–"must be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." They were afraid to ask Jesus what he meant by that, afraid that he really was talking about what was ahead for him–and maybe them–so they decided to talk about who’s on first, or rather, who would be first, who would be greatest.

"What were you arguing about?" "Nothing."

The thing is, Jesus–just like most parents when they ask the question–did know what they were doing, what they were arguing about, and so when they finally got to the house in Capernaum, he sat them down and said, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Oops. He heard us. But they were still afraid to ask him what he meant by that. Really? The first must be last and must be a servant of all? That is so not how the world works....so not how we want it to work, because we spend an awful lot of time trying to make it to the front of the line.

But then, as if it weren’t bad enough, he took some street urchin who had snuck into their gathering, took her into his arms, and said, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the One who sent me."

Biblical historian John Pilch says that Mediterranean cultures, like first-century Palestine, put a very low value on children. Even in medieval times, "Thomas Aquinas taught that in a raging fire, a husband was obliged to save his father first, then his mother, next his wife, and last of all his young child." (Cited by Kate Huey in sermonseeds, 9/20/15) No "women and children first in the lifeboats" here! "Children were fillers, not main events," Barbara Brown Taylor writes. (BBT, Bread of Angels, p. 131)

Children in our day and age are clearly seen quite differently, especially in middle- and upper-class families. Every step, every syllable, even every bowel movement, unfortunately, is cause for celebration and praise, pictures are posted on Instagram, videos posted on Facebook. Newborns are enrolled in nursery school. Infants are dressed in clothes designed by Ralph Lauren and the cost per wearing is phenomenal. Helicopter parents keep in touch with their children–all the way up through college–with minute-by-minute text messages. We want our children to be at the head of the line, first in show, captain of the team.

This is not what Jesus had in mind when "he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the One who sent me." He was not trying to be sweet or sentimental; but rather this action was "perplexing," "disconcerting," and, as Kate Huey says, "certainly provocative." (Ibid.) This was one more world-upending lesson from Jesus, the complete opposite of the way the disciples thought things were supposed to be and, honestly, hoped things would be. They did not want to hear that instead of the top place, it was the lowest and last that they were to seek.

Jesus could have brought a leper into their midst, a man possessed by demons, a widow, an orphan, an "unclean woman"–any of these cast out, rejected, avoided, looked down upon, powerless. Or a shepherd, an old bent-over woman, or a child. All of them were de-valued, vulnerable, powerless. They were all on the receiving end of the power flow chart, not on the giving end. [Peter Marty, cited by Huey, op cit.] Helping them, welcoming them, associating with them was not going to get you anywhere. You could expect nothing in return for your trouble.

But here was this child, Jesus said, already a "full-fledged citizen of the realm of God." (BBT, op cit., p. 132) "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the One who sent me," welcomes God. God with snot running down her face, God with his knees all scraped up. Right now. Here. This child.

One of the things I often hear when people talk about their hopes for the future of our congregation is that we need to attract more families with children. "We’re all getting so old. We need younger people. Children are the future of the church." I absolutely agree that our church family would be enriched by the presence of more children and their parents, but not because they could become junior members of the Administrative Council or grow up to become Trustees. Jesus reached out to a child and drew him into their midst saying, "Right here, now, welcome this child" and you welcome me and the One who sent me.

I have said before that although we can encounter God anywhere, if our eyes and hearts and minds are open to it, we also know that there is the expectation that somehow, in this place, in a "church," one can encounter God. We often expect that in the silence, or the architecture, or the music, or maybe the prayers or spoken word; but here Jesus seems to be saying, When you welcome a child, in that welcome you’ve welcomed the Christ, you’ve welcomed God. Honestly, the kids’ tables at Sunday Social and our nursery and the Godly Play sign-up sheet ought to be packed with adults seeking to encounter God in the interactions offered there!

The child that Jesus drew into the midst of the disciples stood for all the outcast, all those deemed worthless, all the non-entities that will never get us any further ahead. There is no payback to these relationships–other than learning about your own "greatness" and experiencing a glimpse of what the kingdom of God might be like. As we renew our intention to move out into the community with acts of service and generosity, as we increase our invitation to our community to join us in our work and even our worship, it cannot be primarily to increase our numbers, raise the number of potential pledging units or committee members. That is not an invitation into the realm of God. I read this week that, in fact, 20-30 year-olds are not looking for "big" churches because they do not think they can experience the close, personal relationships that are more likely available in smaller gatherings. Bigger is not necessarily better.

The disciples were having the conversation about "Who’s the greatest?" because they didn’t want to think about what Jesus had just told them about being killed. They were afraid. "You know what that is like," as Barbara Brown Taylor says. "When you are scared of something, don’t ask. Act like there is nothing wrong. Change the subject and talk about something else instead, something that makes you feel big and strong. That is what the disciples were doing, which was why Jesus had to sit them down and give them a leadership seminar right then and there." (P. 134) "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all...When you welcome one such child in my name, you welcome me...and the One who sent me."

It’s still scary. How is this all going to work? One could get the impression from observing those already in or wanting to lead our government that the kids are indeed "in charge"–at least the adolescents are. I don’t think that’s what Jesus had in mind when he drew that child into their midst. "Who is wise and understanding among you?" the author of the Letter of James asks us. Who indeed?

Perhaps there is some wisdom in the tradition of the Children’s Fire as heard from the elders of the Hopi Nation.

The whole community sits around a circle called a Medicine Wheel. Around that wheel are representatives of all the different aspects of the community....In the center is the children’s fire, [and] next to the children’s fire sit the grandfather and grandmother...[If you want to ask a question of the community, say, ‘May I build a condo on Spirit Lake?’, you must ask all the various aspects of the community.] The last people you must ask the question to are the grandmother and grandfather who guard the children’s fire. If these two decide that the request is not good for the children’s fire, then the answer is ‘no.’ They are the only ones in the circle who have veto power. The concept of the ultimate question is simple. Does it hurt or help the children’s fire? If it can pass the test of the children’s fire, it can be done.

[Imaging the Word, vol. 1, p. 32]

It’s the same idea as asking what effect a decision will have on the seventh generation.

Of course it isn’t simple, really, for decision-making on anything other than a small community or family level, although one could hope that decisions about environmetnal protection, decisions about tax policies and budget cuts, decisions about educational policy might be made with the Children’s Fire or the seventh generation in mind.. For us as a church community, seeking to be the church, the Body of Christ, in this time and place, we would do well to consider how we welcome "the children" –those who have nothing to offer us except the unsettling, messy, transformative presence of Christ, right here, now, as well as to the 7^th generation.

"Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all....Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me and the One who sent me." It is a strange, upside down, counter-cultural journey, this following in the Way of Jesus. But if that’s not where we’re headed, why would we want to go there? May His Way be our way.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

Read More

"The One Thing"- Proverbs 1:20-33, Mark 8: 27-38 --Sept. 13, 2015

A cartoon pictures a mountainous rock out-cropping with a man in a business suit, sitting cross-legged before an old, bearded man in a white robe, also seated cross-legged. The bubble above the business man says, "I want to know the meaning of life." And above the holy man, the bubble says, "Have you tried Googling it?" I actually did Google the question, "What is the meaning of life?" There were 56 million results posted, and I discovered that "What is the meaning of life?" is the most frequently asked question on Google. I did just a random sampling of 3 of the answers, and some were quite entertaining and enlightening. You might want to try it.

"I want to know the meaning of life." "Wisdom–Sophia-- cries out in the street, ‘How long, o foolish ones, will you love being foolish?" "Who do you say that I am?"

All these are different ways of getting at the question, "What is the meaning of life?" In this post-9/11 world, in the whirlwind of presidential campaigns and images of refugees fleeing, cities in ruins, wildfires blazing, one might wonder, What is the meaning of life? Of my life? Do we seek out a guru, or Google it? Where is Wisdom and what is She calling us to do, to know? Is the answer in the lyrics of a song or a hymn, in the notes of a symphony? And since we have all gathered here in a church, part of the Body of Christ, it’s important that we take a look at what our tradition, what Jesus has to say about the Meaning of Life.

Here in the shadow of the Roman Empire, in Caesarea Philippi, the center of worship of the emperor and of the Greek god Pan, Jesus for the first time in Mark asks those who have followed him this far, "Who do people say that I am?" and then, of course the real point of the discussion, "Who do you say that I am?" This is clearly a critical question for Jesus, and we’ve lost the intensity of his "asking," when the word really has more of the sense of interrogating. He’s not just passing the time as they walk. This is crucial, literally the crux or cross. The answer to these questions determine the way forward.

The location of the conversation is important, here where Caesar and Pan are worshipped, here in the middle of Mark’s Gospel, here just 3 chapters away from arriving in Jerusalem. Location–in time and space-- gives us a context. Situated as we are in the midst of the empire, just days after the 14^th anniversary of the events of Sept. 11, 2001, on the far side of the wars undertaken in the aftermath of those attacks, embroiled as we are in discussions about a nuclear deal with Iran and whether we should simply go to war, caught up in this presidential campaign which is often appallingly burlesque, if not outright racist, mysogynist, and mean-spirited; and the question still burns–"Who do you say that I am?" What difference does Jesus make in our lives, or to put it another way, does Jesus have anything to do with the meaning of our lives?

When Peter answered Jesus’ question with, "You are the Messiah," Jesus told him not to tell anyone about it. Why would Jesus want his identity as the Messiah kept a secret? Probably because for most people of the time, the "messiah" was the politico-religious leader who would save them from Rome, not all that unlike the figure of Alexander the Great, who was said to have been born of a virgin birth and who died when he was 33, after conquering much of the known world.

"You are the Messiah," Peter said to Jesus, and Jesus "sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him." Let’s not fuel a false rumor. "Then he began to teach them–quite openly–that the Son of Humanity must suffer, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again." That, essentially, was the meaning of

Jesus’ life.

But, of course, he went on, speaking to the crowd and his disciples now–

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?"

Here, in Caesarea Philippi, in the shadow of the Empire, Jesus asks these questions knowing what answers the Empire would give, given its values and worldview. Loyalty to Rome and loyalty to family systems and structures, staying in your place, knowing your place, would of course have to be central parts of anyone’s identity and sense of meaning or purpose. For Jesus to put forth an alternative–that of being rejected by the System, that of loyalty to him and his followers, to talk about the realm of God rather than the rule of Caesar–not only was radical, it was risky. One translator intensifies the sense of the word–"It is binding for the Son of Humanity to suffer at the hands of the chief priests...to be killed, and then be raised in 3 days." (Mark Davis, leftbehindand lovingit, 9/11/12)

"To deny yourself," as Kate Huey points out, was and is not so much "an ascetic lifestyle, but rather a radical identity"–radical, meaning root. It is a communal identity, [an interdependent identity] as it affirms who we are and what we value most deeply." (Sermonseeds, 9/13/15), while at the same time seeing each individual as having a unique purpose and identity. "Denying ourselves" is not in conflict with a healthy sense of self, "if we find our deepest authenticity, our truest self, in following Jesus." (Ibid.)

Lutheran preacher David Lose puts it helpfully this way–

"The ‘life’ that has been packaged and sold to us isn’t real life, and we need to die to those illusions to be born into the abundant life God wants for us. Here’s the thing: we tend to think that life is something you go out and get, or earn, or buy, or win. But it turns out, life is like love: it can’t be won or earned or bought, only given away. And the more you give away, the more you have. In fact–as first-time parents experience profoundly–only when you love others do you most understand what love really is. Likewise, only when you give your life away for the sake of others do you discover it. Somehow, in thinking about how to fulfil others’ needs, your own deepest needs are met. Call this the mystery of life and the key to the kingdom of God."

(Inthemeantime, 9/13/15)

...or, call this the meaning of life.

Here, in the middle of Mark’s gospel, in the shadow of the empire, here in the first decades of the 21^st c. at what some have called the end of the Anthropos era in earth’s history, here is the crux of the gospel, which is so countercultural. In a world of perceived scarcity, where power is recognized only when it dominates and overpowers, in a culture that judges by appearances and success and accumulation of stuff, the idea of denying oneself for the sake of others, of giving of oneself, of losing our lives in order to find them, sounds foolish at best, naive, even dangerous.

And yet, despite our cult of celebrities and "self-made billionaires," aren’t our true heroes people like the first-responders to the attacks on the World Trade Center who selflessly rushed in and all the ordinary acts of heroism and self-sacrifice that took place on that day and afterward? Wasn’t the real power of that awful event the coming together of the world in solidarity with us in that moment, not those who flew the planes or planned the attacks? "We are all Americans," people said across the planet. Imagine if we had mobilized that power. Aren’t we most deeply moved by people like those I mentioned last week–Dr. Kent Brantley, who contracted ebola when he responded to the call to help those in need; the people of Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, who responded to the horror and hate with forgiveness and grace; former President Jimmy Carter, meeting his serious medical diagnosis with courage and faith?

"Denying oneself" is not about denying one’s truest self. It’s about finding it. "What gives you the greatest joy? When do you feel most alive, truest to who you are, to the person you believe God created you to be? What creates for you the deepest sense of purpose? .. It’s not about being less happy, as David Lose says, it’s about discovering real and abundant life. (Ibid.) It’s the one thing we need to learn.

Stephen Colbert interviewed Vice-President Joe Biden on the new Late Night this week. It was an incredibly moving exchange between these two men of faith who have experienced great loss. At one point, Vice-President Biden said that his kids have the habit of greeting him, especially after he’s gone through a tough exchange or period, with, "Come back to home base, Dad. Remember who you are."

Remember who you are, Jesus said to his followers. Remember the one thing–life is discovered in giving it away, just as love is. May these words be truth and courage and hope for us for the living of these days. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

Read More

Mary's Banner Announcement

Come, Seek, Pray, Learn..

Come be part of the old, old story this Sunday morning at 10 o’clock at Second Congregational Church, U.C.C. We light the fourth Advent candle, the Candle of Love, and our “No-Fuss Christmas Pageant” has room for any would-be shepherds, angels, animals, or Marys and Josephs! The Gospel Singers will sing, “Mary, Mary” by Avery and Marsh, and Christmas carols for all to sing provide the music for the pageant. The service ends as we sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, and a sandwich lunch, complete with birthday cake, follows in Webster Hall. Carollers will leave from the church at 12:30.

Read More

Announcements on White

Read More

“This Sunday, Sept. 13, is Rally Sunday at Second Congregational Church, UCC.  While “Rally Day” doesn’t appear on any liturgical calendar, it is a day that our church community looks forward to as we come together after the summer to begin our fall activities, including Godly Play and youth classes. We gather for worship at 10 a.m., and everyone who collected water from their various summer destinations is invited to pour the waters together into the baptismal font.  All school children are invited to bring their school backpacks for a “Blessing of the Backpacks.”  Following this, children up through grade 5 will be dismissed for Godly Play, and the Middle- and High-school Class will meet.  Nursery care is provided throughout worship.  Rev. Mary Lee-Clark’s sermon, based on the readings from Proverbs and Mark, is entitled, “The One Thing.”

 

A time of fellowship and refreshment for the whole church family follows in Webster Hall.  At 11:35, those interested in strategizing responses to the European refugee crisis are invited to meet in the Clayton Room.  Eaarth Advocates also meets.

 

Second Congregational Church is an Open and Affirming Congregation of the United Church of Christ, and we welcome all people of faith or in search of faith to our work and worship, without regard to age, race, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation.

Read More

"Underneath the Anger"-- James 2:1-10, 14-17, Mark 7:24-37--Sept. 6, 2015

We are in the midst of the last long weekend of summer, blessed with what is pretty much perfect weather. I get that. We have had the privilege of celebrating the sacrament of baptism this morning, marking a significant point on a life-long journey of faith of one of our sisters and daughters. And we will celebrate the sacrament of communion, bringing in the "sheaves of summer," and sharing the bread and cup. All of which would be more than enough blessing and worship of God on this beautiful late summer morning.

And yet, in the midst of all this blessing, we must pause, at least briefly, to hear the Word for this morning and to let it sink in, perhaps, like winter wheat, planting seeds that will germinate as the light grows shorter and steeper, to send forth shoots and grain to see us through the challenging times ahead.

I invite you to take a moment to look at the picture on the front of our bulletins this morning– such a beautiful, healthy child, held in arms that make him feel safe and secure, looking at a face that obviously delights her. (Who knows if this is a boy or a girl?) And yet, I cannot look at the picture of this child this week without also seeing in my mind the picture of another child, this one lying face down on a beach, the waves lapping around his lifeless body. His name is Aylan, and his heart-broken father buried him and his 5-year-old brother and his wife in their home town in Syria on Friday.

Another father brought his infant daughter out of a train packed with refugees in Hungary, begging for help for her, because she would surely die if she stayed on the train or ended up in a refugee camp. I see that picture too as I look at this smiling, healthy baby.

"The rich and the poor have this in common:" the writer of Proverbs says in the Hebrew scripture reading for today, "the LORD is the maker of them all... Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity, and the rod of anger will fail. Those who are generous are blessed, for they share their bread with the poor... Do not rob the poor because they are poor, or crush the afflicted at the gate; for the LORD pleads their cause and despoils of life those who despoil them." (Prov. 2: 2, 8-9, 22-23)

It seems these scenes from Turkey and Hungary, from Calais and Greece, are not new in the history of human beings–the poor being robbed, the afflicted crushed at the gates. Our reading from James describes an all-too familiar scene: the rich being welcomed and made room for, the poor being shoved aside, discarded.

And in the gospel reading from Mark, even Jesus–the best of humanity–seems to be caught up and bound in his own cultural prejudices and stereotypes, using an ethnic slur common in his time, to refer to this Syro-Phoenician woman and her daughter as "dogs." It’s a troubling passage. It should make us pause. Some say Jesus is just testing the woman’s faith, calling her a dog with a twinkle in his eye. Others say he is presenting an object lesson for the disciples. Still others say the word is really closer to "puppy," almost a term of endearment. I refuse to buy any of those interpretations, and find them all appalling.

What I can believe is that Jesus was a human being raised in a culture of prejudice, caught up, like any of us, in systems of oppression, in a culture of supremacy, as David Henson says (patheos, 9/2/15); so that when the woman, as desperate and heartbroken for her daughter as either of the two fathers we’ve already mentioned, when she hears of Jesus and what he has done for others, she enters the house where he was trying to escape–here in Gentile territory--, bowed down at his feet, and begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. "Let the children be fed first," he says to her, referring to the children of Israel, " for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs."

The poison of that remark is still in the atmosphere of the planet–floating around Hungary and Austria, in Syria and Turkey, in Palestine and Israel, in Burma and in Sudan, in the United States and here in Bennington. "Let the children–our children–be fed first...It is not fair, it is not right, that your children, who are here illegally, who were born into poor families, whose parents are drug-users, that you who are polluting our Christian nation–you and your children have no right to our food..."

But she answered, "Sir–Lord–even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs."

But he answered, "Please, help my baby daughter–she will die if she stays in this train or is shipped to a refugee camp." But they answered, "Please-- ISIS is beheading our men, raping our women, the government is gassing our villages." Can you imagine the horrors that make climbing onto one of those boats seem like the better option? "You have to understand," one woman posted on Facebook, "That no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land."

The truth is laid on the table–for Jesus and the world to see. And Jesus, as David Henson says, "has the holy wind knocked out of him. He not only heard the truth of her reality. He also heard the brokenness of his own reality... It is the only time recorded in the gospels in which Jesus changes his mind." (Ibid.)

According to a New York Times report, when the government of Iceland pledged to take in only 50 refugees in 2015, a group of Icelanders called on their government to permit 4,950 more to enter the country. They wrote on Facebook:

"Refugees are our future spouses, best friends, our next soul mate, the drummer in our children's band, our next colleague, Miss Iceland 2022, the carpenter who finally fixes our bathroom, the chef in the cafeteria, the fireman, the hacker and the television host. People who we'll never be able to say to: 'Your life is worth less than mine.'" "If you can't imagine yourself in one of those boats," author JK Rowling tweeted this week, " you have something missing. They are dying for a life worth living. (#refugeeswelcome)"(9:45 AM - 3 Sep 2015 JK Rowling)

"You have dishonored the poor," the writer of the letter of James says. "Is it not the rich who oppress you?" As one of the relatively rich of the world, I recognize that our focus on the poor–on those people crowding train stations and refugee camps, on those people who flood our borders and are here "illegally," on those people who say they cannot find work and who need assistance to feed their families or themselves, on those people living in "the horseshoe" on Pleasant St. or Benmont Ave. or at Applegate or Willowbrook or asking for money on Main St.–our focus on those people as the problem deflects attention from those of us with resources, who are as much of "the problem"–if not more–than the poor. Do the rich really need all that money that they defend so loudly against, saying "No more taxes on the wealthy"? Is all the work that needs to be done to make our communities more liveable, our children healthier and better educated, our environment cleaned up, our infrastructure safer–is all that really being done so that we truly have no more jobs to offer people? Can the United States really only accommodate a couple thousand Syrian refugees?

Now, I know that the issues are way more complicated than can be wrapped up in 15 min. on a Sunday morning. Good people of intelligence and faith have devoted their lives to many of these issues, and there are many, many people and organizations stepping up with courage and compassion and generosity. I would love for those in our congregation who feel a particular passion and calling for exploring responses to the truth-telling of the Syrophonoecian woman to gather and help us all live into a new and more just way of living. I know we can make a difference.

Coverage of the current U.S. presidential campaign says that various candidates are "tapping into the anger" of the American people–anger at Washington, anger at the way things are. There is certainly enough to be angry about, but anger is almost always a secondary emotion–underneath it can be justified concern for injustice and suffering, but/and underneath anger is more often than not fear–fear for one’s safety and the safety of loved ones, fear that there is not enough– enough food, enough resources for a dignified life, enough love. Fear can be a helpful and necessary response to certain situations and things–our bodies are hardwired to deal with fear–but it cannot be a long-term strategy, because it burns us up, shuts us down, keeps us from being able to imagine more creative, long-term solutions.

"Ephphatha–be opened," Jesus said as he put his fingers into the deaf man’s ears. He was saying that as much to himself as to the man, reminding himself, having so recently heard the truth from the Syrophonoecian mother. "Be not afraid," the message so often comes from God. "Be not fear. Don’t become fear. Become bread. Become wine. Bread and wine for one another and for the whole world. There is always enough at this table–enough love, enough life. Come, let us keep the feast.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

Read More

"Walking the Walk"- James 1:17-27, Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23-- Aug. 30, 2015

It’s been another tough week in the news of the world: A refrigerator truck full of immigrants, including children, found dead on an Austrian highway, and thousands more in desperate conditions. A TV reporter and videographer shot dead at a resort in Virginia. The stock market rivaling many a roller-coaster in its sickening dives and stomach-churning rises. The presidential campaign once again bloated with smarminess and diversions.

All of which makes a conversation about purity and integrity seem a little shocking, out of touch, maybe, naive even. Such are the questions of the Pharisees and scribes to Jesus on his kingdom of God campaign–"Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?" Really? You’re worried about our hygiene, which was really a question about purity? In a world that often seems so soiled and tawdry, questions about the washing of hands and pots and pans are almost refreshing, if they weren’t perhaps so irrelevant--except that they are really about integrity, authority, suitability for leadership. What is it that "defiles" a person–their hygiene or their intentions? "Listen to me," Jesus told them, "It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within the human heart, that evil intentions come..."

The writer of the Letter of James puts it this way–"Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls."

What defiles or sullies a person? And what defines them? In a world of selfies, videos that capture the most intimate of actions, self-promoting campaigns and profiles, what is it that defines a person? "Be doers of the word," James says, "and not merely hearers who deceive themselves...If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God...is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world."

In a climate and culture with more than its share of hypocrisy, deceit, unbridled self-promotion, and sanctimoniousness, it’s easy to get discouraged and depressed about the state of the human condition. But, remember, these headlines and stories are not all there is. They sell, but they do not tell the whole story. They are seductive, but it’s essential that we remember there are other stories and narratives out there, which quite literally can grow and nourish that word of hope planted within us that James talks about–"the implanted word that has the power to save your souls," as he puts it.

Nancy Rockwell lifts up "three inspiring witnesses to real Christian faith and duty" that have stood out and moved us as a nation recently–

The first is Dr. Kent Brantly, who contracted ebola as a missionary doctor in Africa. In a recent interview on the PBS NewsHour he was asked if he thought his healing had been a miracle, brought about by his faith and prayer. "Dr. Brantly said No. He said his healing had been the result of hard work by nurses, doctors, and researchers who had offered him an experimental medicine. He made this distinction, that it was his faith that brought him into contact with ebola, to which he would not have been exposed if he had not, in faith, volunteered to serve there. And of his healing, he said God was involved, but his thanks and love went to the community of people who were dedicated to healing." [N. Rockwell, thebiteintheapple, 8/24/15]

Imagine that! Witnessing–on national television, no less-- that it was because of your faith that you were exposed to ebola, because that’s where you felt called. Not claiming that you, unlike thousands of others, were healed because of your faith.

The second witness Rockwell lifts up is the community of Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC, where 9 of their beloved were gunned down during Bible study. Not only was the shooter welcomed into that Bible study, but in the aftermath of that horrible tragedy, the people of Emmanuel refused to hate or seek revenge. Their tribute to their pastor Clementa Pinckney was dignified, powerful, and full of grace.

The third witness to walking the walk is former President Jimmy Carter, who when it was revealed that he had a grave medical condition, "said that he was grateful to be filled with peace, not fear and not anger, in response to this news, and that he looked forward to the next great adventure, relying on his faith." [Rockwell, ibid.] He taught his Sunday school class last week, as usual, and with quiet but firm conviction, gave testimony to the faith that has sustained and supported him throughout his life.

Be doers of the Word, not merely hearers.

There may be other examples of people who have exemplified the best, rather the worst, in human beings that you can think of–the 3 Americans and 1 Brit who acted selflessly and bravely to bring down the would-be shooter on the train heading to Paris. Amelia Boynton Robinson, the civil rights activist who died this week at the age of 104 who had been beaten on the Edmund Pettis Bridge in Selma AL on Bloody Sunday. Firefighters who battle the wildfires out west. Are there others who come to mind?

"Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves."

I am certain that none of these people who come to mind consider–or considered– themselves perfect or better than anyone else. Just as Jesus said that nothing on the outside can defile a person, but rather what comes out, so it is that what is inside a person defines them. It is our habits that shape and define us, so we must pay attention to what we do habitually. Jimmy Carter taught his Sunday school class last Sunday and spoke at the news conference of a faith that sustains and guides him because that is what he has done over and over again. Dr. Kent Brantly has immersed himself in both a community of faith and communities of healing so he is able to recognize the hard, faithful work that men and women dedicated to healing are able to do and to accept that his own faith calls him to use his gifts and be of service to people in need. The people of Emmanuel Church were held in their grief by love, compassion, and amazing grace because they practice that every Sunday morning and evening, and at Wednesday night Bible studies and in all the ministries that take place through that church. All these have been able to "welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save [their] souls," because they have practiced that welcome.

"Be doers of the word, not only hearers or talkers about the word." Welcome the implanted word–that truth which is deeply within you–water it, give it daylight, let it blossom. You may never be singled out for a news story–even a "human interest feature," but if you tend to that seed, that word, planted in you, you will be part of the saving of the world.

I was inspired this week by 2 groups of neighbors close to home and here in Vermont who have born witness to the "implanted word" that has the power to keep hope alive and so, in a way, to "save our souls." This week is the 2^nd anniversary of the flooding left in Hurricane Irene’s wake, and there was a documentary on VPT about how the community of Pittsfield, VT experienced that storm. The footage of the flood and the stories of the rumbling boulders and tall trees hurtling down streets and rising around houses were terrifying and overwhelming all over again. You could see emotions brought to the surface in re-telling how frightening it was for little kids all the way up to old-timers. But there were also stories of people calmly but resolutely doing what they had been trained to do,–what they had practiced-- like the town clerk putting into motion the town emergency plan, and making adjustments as the situation changed; people who set up emergency shelters; neighbors calling on and checking on neighbors, some literally reaching out in the midst of flood waters to bring people to safety. But it was not only during the storm but after that what was planted most deeply came forth and blossomed. No one was left out or left behind. Strangers became friends. Old grudges were not only put aside, but resolved, as the magnitude of what was truly important became apparent. Reserved, independent Vermonters came together daily in the Federated Church to hear the latest news, to catch up with one another, to see what needed to be done. A classroom was set up for the elementary school kids in the town square. They even pulled off a wedding that the couple had assumed would have to be postponed, but which turned into a glorious community celebration. The nearby community of Chittenden sent a truckload of supplies. "If we could live like this all the time, the world would be a better place," more than one person remarked. (And we can’t because...?)

Another example of calling forth the best, rather than the worst, in human beings was the Do It Yourself Ironman race that our friend Tim Payne swam, biked, and ran last Saturday. Completing an Ironman had been on Tim’s bucket list since he was 18, something he really wanted to do, and especially after witnessing Rachel’s completion of her Ironman in Lake Placid a few years ago, he was more determined than ever to do it. But he decided to forego the expense and hassles of a big Ironman event and do it, rather, on his own. Thus, the "Homegrown Ironman." But, of course, he didn’t do it alone. He had the benefit of an experienced coach who gave him tried and true training schedules and tips. He had friends who rode and ran with him. And, perhaps most importantly, he had Rachel, Noah, Maggie, and Finn who supported him, trained with him, filled in the family gaps when Tim was missing–out training--, encouraged him, inspired him. Tim wrote a blog throughout his training, which allowed him both to reflect upon his experience, and to bring others along.

The day of Tim’s Ironman was the same day as our Sun and Fun event and an evening outing in celebration of Meredith’s upcoming wedding, so I wasn’t able to physically be present for any of the race. However, I was moved and inspired by the community of friends and family who came out to support Tim, from his early morning swim on Lake Raponda, to his bike ride through three states, and especially on the long and difficult marathon run, when the usual energy drinks and eats were not able to stay down in Tim’s stomach. Rachel put out the word on Facebook and broth, salt tablets, and other more palatable drinks quickly appeared along the route.

This phase of the race, when he had to walk instead of run, defined, rather than defiled, Tim. "It was the first time I thought I might not make it to the end," Tim wrote in his blog later. "To make it worse, my kids and wife watched me as I struggled to get back on my feet. I resolved to power walk as far as I could, and I was joined by my friend Tracy, who said she would walk a few miles with me." Tim’s legs and stomach eventually came back to him, and he was able to finish the race, running, still accompanied by his friend Tracy (after 16 mi.), received by a wildly cheering crowd at Mt. Anthony Union High School, and cross the finish line to the shout, "Tim Payne, You are an Ironman!"

"My first emotion was humility," Tim later wrote. "The truth is I would never have finished my solo Ironman without the help of many people."

"Welcome with meekness–with openness–the implanted word that has the power to save

your souls."

Few of us will ever complete an Ironman, but Ironmen come in many different forms– events or situations that push us to our limits, that force us to let go of our preconceived notions and illusions about what we are capable of or who we are. They can be physical, emotional, psychological challenges, and more often than not, all of the above. We do not pray for natural or humanmade disasters, but when confronted with them, we pray that we will be able to meet them with the best of who we are, shaped and defined by the way we have lived every other day and week.

The qualities that we admire in all these people I’ve lifted up–Dr. Kent Brantly, the people of Emmanuel AME Church, Jimmy Carter, the people of Pittsfield and so many other communities, Tim Payne–and other people who come to mind for you–those qualities stand out for us because there is something within us that recognizes them and resonates within us. It is a powerful experience to take the time to list the qualities of people we admire–specifically, carefully–and then to go over that list and pick out 8 or 10 qualities that particularly seem to stand out as qualities of an "ideal" human being. "He is humble." "They are forgiving and faithful." "He is not afraid of death." And then to write out 8 or 10 sentences that begin with "I am...." or "I have..." with each of those qualities completing the sentence. "I am humble." "I am forgiving and faithful." "I am not afraid of death." "I have faith that calls me to serve, even though it may be dangerous." "I affirm that God works through hard-working, compassionate healers." "I willingly share what I have when others are in need.""I engage others to help." "When there’s something I really want to do, I can set a goal and stick to it, welcoming the support of others."

We know that there is plenty that defiles us. There is within us not only the best but also the worst that human beings can be. But it is what we nurture, what we practice, what we feed and bring to daylight that will define us. "Be doers of the word." "Welcome the implanted word within you that has the power to save your soul." So may the world be a better place because of us. So may God’s kingdom come. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

Read More