"Of princes, widows, and orphans..."11 Ruth 1:1-18, Psalm 146 -- November 4, 2012

"In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons." The story of Ruth begins like the story of so many other people, who find themselves displaced, adrift, at a loss, through no fault of their own. "In the days when Barack Obama was President, there was a hurricane named Sandy, a tropical storm named Irene, and they were left without power or heat, their homes were swept away, they lost everything they had."

It’s a story repeated over and over again, in our country and around the world. "In the days when Bashir el Asad was President, a civil war arose in Syria, and thousands of refugees fled their country to Jordan, to Turkey, taking with them their families and the few belongings they could carry." "In the days when Peter Shumlin was Governor, Louise could no longer take care of herself or stay in her own home, and so she moved to a community care home, all the while longing to go back to her ‘own’ home." "In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness."

Over and over, set against the background of rulers and people in power who come and go, the lives of the children of God go on, up against the forces of nature, up against the natural processes of aging and disability, up against the powers and principalities that seem to sweep all the "little ones" up in their path. "Do not put your trust in princes," warns the psalmist," in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day, their plans perish."

However, the psalmist goes on to say, "Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God, who is making heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them; who is keeping faith forever; who executes, who is making, justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry." The God who is still creating the heavens and the earth is at the same time the One who is executing justice for the oppressed, who is lifting up those who are bowed down. "God watches over the strangers; upholds the orphan and the widow."

In all these stories of displacement and hopelessness, there is a glimmer of hope, a hint of what is at work beneath the surface. "There was a certain man from Bethlehem of Judah...." Ruth travels with her mother-in-law back to Bethlehem, where she ends up marrying Naomi’s kinsman, Boaz, and becomes one of the grandmothers of David and thus of Jesus. In the midst of the devastation along the east coast, there are countless acts of courage and kindness, as people help one another and as engineers and reconstruction teams bring knowledge, ingenuity, and skill to the rebuilding and re-visioning process. The reality of rising sea levels due to climate change becomes an unavoidable fact, perhaps alerting us to take a serious look at how we might be contributing to it and how we might do things differently. Families find new families and allies that support and assist them in taking care of loved ones, and we all realize how dependent we actually are on one another.

In the kingdom of God, Jesus said,-- if God truly were ruler of the nations, of the world-- the hungry would be fed, the homeless housed, the widows and orphans taken care of, the prisoners set free, those who are bowed down would be lifted up, the eyes of the blind would be opened, the refugees and sojourners would find a home. But the kingdom, or the reign, of God is not just some future time, Jesus said. It’s coming and now is, he said. You are to live in that realm as well, feeding the hungry, taking care of the widows and orphans, finding homes for the strangers and aliens in your midst, executing justice. You are to be-friend the friendless. You are to stand with those who are going through troubles.

You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin–to the bitter end. [said his friends to Frodo, the Hobbit in JRR Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring] And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours–closer than you yourself keep it. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is."

"I have called you my friends," Jesus said to his followers. Can we not be as good a friend

as Hobbits to the least of Jesus’ brothers and sisters, whom he said were his surrogates? "Whatever you have done to the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you have done to me."

"Do not put your trust in princes," the psalmist said, but the reign of God is not only coming but now is. Regardless of who wins the elections on Tuesday, we are called as friends of Jesus to look out for the widow and orphan, the powerless, the sick, the homeless, and so to be concerned about how we as a community and a nation choose to live together. The personal is political for so many of us, particularly for those who through no fault of their own find themselves in need. God is executing justice for the oppressed, as the psalmist says, God is "powerfully partisan," as one Biblical scholar writes, (Texts for Preaching, Year B, p. 570) and we are to align ourselves with that ongoing process.

"I vote because I am a citizen," writes the Rev. James Moos, Executive Minister of the UCC Wider Church Ministries and Co-executive for Global Ministries, in a press release entitled, "Our Faith, Our Vote, God’s World"--

I vote because I am a citizen. Yes, I am a citizen of the Untied States and I take civic responsibilities seriously. More importantly, however, I am a citizen of

God’s realm; as such I am called to live out my faith in the public arena. This means casting my vote not out of economic self-interest, but for the sake of all of God’s people and all of creation, and especially on behalf of the vulnerable and powerless.

I vote because of a little Palestinian girl named Siham in East Jerusalem who my wife and I sponsor through Global Ministries’ Child sponsorship program. Siham’s future and the prospects for peace in the Middle East will be deeply impacted by U.S. foreign policy. Siham cannot hold our nations’ leadership accountable, but we can.

I vote because I live in Cleveland, OH, a city where 44 out of every 100 adults over the age of 16 lack basic literacy skills. They cannot read a bus schedule, or write a letter explaining a credit card billing error. Through elections we both demand better educational systems and we support them.

I vote because 15% of households in the wealthiest country on earth lack food security. At some point in the past year, they had insufficient nutritional food to lead healthy, active lives. While private generosity is good and necessary in addressing these needs, the structural inequities that underlie them are a matter of public policy.

I vote

because, as a former military chaplain, I know all too well the grief and trauma inflicted upon the innocent and suffered by veterans and their families during unjust and seemingly never-ending wars. On Nov. 6^thwe will choose the next Commander-in-Chief.

I vote because the first eight months of 2012 were hottest on record. South Pacific islanders are being swamped by rising sea levels due to global warming. The legislators we choose will decide on whether we take bold action, or continue on the path of environmental catastrophe.

I vote because nearly 50 million Americans lack health insurance, some of them are close friends and family members. Access to quality health care is not a privilege, it is a human right. The future of that access will be determined on Election Day.

I vote because I affirm marriage equality. In the land where the constitution guarantees equal protection to all citizens, same gender loving people are entitled to all the rights and responsibilities of marriage. Elected officials and ballot measures are keys to attaining and maintaining marriage equality.

I vote because while faith is intensely personal, it is never purely private. In his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," Martin Luther King chastised this contemporaries who were ‘....more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained glass windows.’ Faith that is nurtured in the church must be boldly lived out in the world. In a democracy, the ballot box is one place for us to live out that faith. Please join me in voting."

"Do not put your trust in princes...Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God, who is making heaven and earth, who is executing justice and lifting up those who are bowed down." Because God’s reign is coming and now is, we who are Friends of Jesus (FOJ?) know that we are bound together with all God’s children, both here and around the world. We know that God sets a welcome table for all people who would come to it, and so we come to this table this morning, affirming that we are One Body in Christ Jesus. We are fed and nourished, that we too might become food and drink for a hungry and thirsty world. In faith, in hope, in courage, then, let us keep the feast. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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Wed., Oct. 31, 2012

I’ve decided to use this blog to share with you some of my weekly learnings from my

Positive Psychology course. I welcome conversation around any of this material and hope that you find it helpful.

The current "module" we’re in has to do with Change, and this week I’ve been reading about some of the latest findings in brain research, which have real implications for how change is possible.

Up until the past few years, it was thought that our brains pretty much finished growing and changing by the time we were 3 years old, with a few alterations up through puberty. Now we know that the brain is, in fact, "plastic," that is, it is possible to build new neural pathways up until we die. In a fascinating book by Doidge, called The Brain That Changes Itself, story after story is told about how seemingly hopeless cases–people with brain injuries or diseases–were able to re-route neural pathways from injured areas of their brain to other areas, which took up the functions of the injured areas, through persistent therapies and exercises.

In the context of Positive Psychology, this offers real hope in the possibility of not only dealing with conditions, like depression, even schizophrenia, without the use of pharmaceuticals, but also reinforces the effectiveness of certain behaviors that can bring about real change. Research has shown that our level of happiness is about 50% due to genetics, 10% to our environment or situation, and 40% to the choices we make in our thinking and our behavior. That means we can intentionally make a big difference in our level of happiness by choosing certain behaviors and ways of thinking over others AND by doing so, can actually change the neural pathways in our brains.

For example, I may be prone to being a "fault-finder" or seeing the glass half-empty. By writing down 3 or 4 or 5 things that I’m grateful for every night for a month, I can actually begin to re-wire my brain so that I may become more of a "benefit-finder," and begin to see the glass as half-full. I begin to notice things during the day that I’m grateful for, notice not only the things that bother me about a person or situation, but also the things that I appreciate and find hopeful.

As I get older, I find this research to be especially hopeful, as I do not have to resign myself to a steady downhill decline in brain function! Maybe this means that even though I forget names and even words occasionally, there’s a good chance that with exercise and the other behaviors I choose to engage in, [and with genes from my 93-year-old-still-walking-6-miles-a-day mom] I may very well be able to carry on a fairly intelligent conversation for many more years.

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“Daring Greatly”--Mark 10: 46-52-- Oct. 28, 2012

The title of this morning’s sermon comes from a speech by Theodore Roosevelt, which was entitled “Citizenship in a Republic,” given in Paris, France in April, 1910.  It’s also the title of Dr. Brene Brown’s most recent book, which I am in the midst of pondering and devouring.

Here’s the passage from Teddy Roosevelt’s speech–
“It is not the critic who counts; not the [person] who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the [person] who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself [or herself] in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he [or she] fails, at least fails while daring greatly...”

Bartimaeus was the man in the arena, his eyes clouded over, probably, from one of the many diseases of the eye common in those days; whose only resort had been to sit by the side of the road outside of Jericho and beg.  His cloak, his only possession, was wrapped around him as some protection from the cold, with its hem spread out around him to catch the few coins thrown his way.

He may have been blind, but he wasn’t deaf, thanks be to God, and he could hear what people were saying about Jesus of Nazareth.  How he healed the blind and the lame, how he had opened the deaf man’s ears, how he had stood up to those of the scribes and Pharisees who wanted to hush him from teaching with such authority and such power.  Bartimaeus may have been blind, but he wasn’t deaf.  He knew what people were saying now, and what the prophets had said about the one they called “Son of David.”

So, when he heard the crowd coming down the road and heard them talking about Jesus of Nazareth, Bartimaeus knew that this was his moment.  If ever he was going to engage with his life, if ever there was a time to show up in his life, now was the time.  He had nothing to lose, except his life at the side of the road, listening while the world and the life he knew he was meant to live passed him by.

So “he began to shout out, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’  Many sternly ordered him to be quiet.”  Of course they did.  He knew they would.  People don’t like it when someone who’s become part of the architecture, who’s been a landmark along the side of the road, starts to move and shout for attention.  “But he cried out even more loudly, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’”

And, oh my God, “Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’” Life responds to those who dare to call it by name.  “Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’” And they called the blind man, saying to him, –now they said to him...!– ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.’  So, throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus,” his heart pumping, his mind racing, yet also strangely focused.  This was it.

“Then Jesus said to him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’” And Bartimaeus, the blind man, said to him, ‘Rabbouni,’ [just like Mary did when she recognized Jesus in the garden on Easter morning]–Rabbouni, let me see again.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go; your faith has made you well.’ Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.”

The first time Brene Brown read the Roosevelt quote about the man in the arena, she thought, “This is vulnerability. Everything I’ve learned from over a decade of research on vulnerability has taught me this exact lesson.  Vulnerability is not knowing victory or defeat, it’s understanding the necessity of both; it’s engaging.  It’s being all in.

“Vulnerability is not weakness, [she writes] and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional.  Our only choice is a question of engagement.  Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection.” (P. 2) “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.”

The story of blind Bartimaeus is the last story in Mark’s gospel before Jesus rides into Jerusalem on an ass–talk about vulnerability!  Mark has skillfully crafted his story to sum up the journey so far, with echoes of the incidents and characters we’ve already met and heard of.  The disciples gathered around Jesus have been persistently blind, just not getting what Jesus was trying to tell them.  Yet here was “blind” Bartimaeus, who could see who Jesus was and who responded wholeheartedly.  The rich man who had followed all the commandments from his youth, who came to Jesus asking what he had to do to gain eternal life–or authentic life--, and when Jesus lovingly told him to go, sell all he had and give it to the poor, he turned away, broken-hearted, because he couldn’t bear that much vulnerability.  Bartimaeus, who only owned a cloak, threw even that away, risked everything, and ended up healed, whole, saved–all meanings of the word–and he followed Jesus on the way–on the way to Jerusalem, on the way to life, even though the road led through death.

And remember the woman who’d had the hemorrhage for 12 years who crept up to Jesus in the crowd and touched the hem of his robe and was immediately healed?  Remember her courage and her vulnerability when he asked, Who touched me? And even though she could have slipped away in the crowd, came forward and knelt at his feet.  Jesus said the same thing to her that he said to Bartimaeus, “Go, your faith has made you well [or whole].”

What is it you want to ask of Life? Or God? Or Jesus?  What would you do if you knew you might fail but it didn’t matter–not in the long run?  What would you risk if you knew that even though you might end up embarrassed or criticized or humiliated, that in the end, even if you failed, you are not a failure? That you are worthy of love and connection and joy?  What would you cry out if Jesus were coming down the road?  Would your cry be for healing or justice or peace or equality? (David Lose, workingpreacher.com, 10/21/12) What if you dared to call up the woman whose child has recently died, even if you didn’t know what to say? What if you connected to her?  What if you picked up the remote control and pressed “off” and said to your partner, “We need to talk”?  What if you connected?  What if you wrote that Letter to the Editor about what’s been burning a hole in your heart?  What if you connected to others who share that same heartburn, not to mention connecting to your true Self? What would you do?  What are you dying to dare greatly?

The story of Bartimaeus tells us that when we dare greatly, when we engage fully–show up fully–in our lives, we can be made whole–“the physical healing is only part of a more complete restoration.”  (Texts for Preaching, year B, p. 564) “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked Bartimaeus.  “Rabbouni,” he said, “let me see again.”  And Bartimaeus saw, not just his hands in front of his eyes, but the face in front of him, looking into his eyes.  Not only his sight, but his vision was restored–the vision of what could be if he followed in the way, if we all followed in the Way of Jesus.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the [person] who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.  The credit belongs to the [person] who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself [or herself] in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he [or she] fails, at least fails while daring greatly...”

Let us dare greatly–as men and women created in the image of God, and as a church, called to be the Body of Christ. Let us dare to live up to our calling, not to let our fears paralyze us, but to risk being used for a mighty, sacred purpose.  Surely that would be a Reformation to be celebrated.

Amen and amen.
Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"A Tough Sell"-- Mark 10:35-45-- Oct. 21, 2012

 

In Matthew’s gospel, it is the mother of James and John who makes the request of Jesus that her sons be seated at his left and his right when he comes into his glory. It’s the kind of thing you can imagine a mother doing, advocating for her sons.

But even in Matthew, as it does here in Mark, this request comes right after the third time that Jesus lets his disciples in on what lies ahead–"See," Jesus says, right before this morning’s passage, "See we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again."

So when James and John come forward and ask to speak with Jesus–you know, just you and us, Jesus- and say to him, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you," we may be a little shocked at their boldness. And then when we hear what they want–"Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory," it’s tempting to say, "Are you kidding? Did you just hear what he said (for the third time), what ‘glory’ awaits him?!"

To give James and John the benefit of the doubt, maybe they do get it, and are so scared and yet still trusting, that they’re looking for any security they can find. But my guess is that most of us react like the other disciples did, who, when they heard what the brothers had asked, were angry. Who do they think they are?

John Pilch, author of the series, The Cultural World of Jesus, explains the situation this way–

The group that Jesus gathered around himself is technically called a faction. Members of such a group each have a direct, important, and relatively strong relationship with the leader but very little knowledge of or relationship with each other.

In today’s story, James and John, two blood relatives, do something very normal and customary in this culture within factions. They jockey for a higher position of honor in the group and care nothing about the others. When Jesus receives his full measure of honor, these two brothers want a share in it by gaining the most prestigious positions next to him. In this culture, everything is always about honor.

(John Pilch, the Cultural World of Jesus, Year B, p. 151)

 

So, James and John are just acting out of what their culture has taught them about what is

important. Surely when Jesus "comes into his glory," it will be the glory that their culture imagines–on a throne raised up, with his most trusted advisors sitting on his left and his right, and from there he will rule over the earth, just like Caesar.

But Jesus knows better. "You do not know what you are asking," he says to them. "Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" They answer without even thinking, it seems. "We are able." That’s where the old hymn comes from–"Are ye able, said the Master, to be crucified with me? Yes, we are able, our spirits are free..." Really? I’d like to think I could answer, "I am able," but I’m not so sure. "You do not know what you are asking,"Jesus says. "Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?"

Mark’s community, some 30 years after Jesus’ death, knows that cup which Jesus drank was the cup assigned to him by God, to be poured out for the life of others. James and John say they are willing to drink that same cup. Mark’s community knows that to be baptized with Jesus is to be submerged in a death like his, as well as to be raised in a resurrection like his. That’s what many of them had already experienced. They might want to urge James and John to think twice before answering so glibly.

While he was Dean of the Chapel at Duke University, William Willimon lamented to a group of students that they attracted so few students in their services at Duke Chapel.

"Go easy on yourself," said one of the students. "Duke is a very selective school with very bright students," she said. (I’m thinking, ‘Yeah, bright but not all that humble.’) "I think most of them are smart enough to figure out," she continued, "That if they gave their

lives to Christ, he would only make their lives more difficult. I think it’s amazing you get as many students to come to Jesus as you do." (William Willimon, Day 1.org, 2009)

"Do you know what you are asking?" Jesus asked James and John. "Are you able to drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" "I think it’s amazing you get as many students to come to Jesus as you do."

Really, when you think about it, isn’t it amazing that so many of us are here? Do we really know what we could be in for?

The late Dorothy Sayers wrote, "I believe it is a great mistake to present Christianity as something charming and popular with no offense....We cannot blink at the fact that gentle Jesus meek and mild was so stiff in his opinions and so inflammatory in his language that he was thrown out of church [well, the synagogue], stoned, hunted from place to place, and finally gibbeted as a firebrand and a public danger. Whatever his peace was, it was not the peace of an amiable indifference." (inward/outward, Church of the Savior, 10/16/12)

Do we really know where the journey with Jesus may take us? "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you," James and John said. That’s what a lot of us are seeking when we come to church. I’d like more convenient times; I’d like faster service; I’d like better or different or (fill in the blank) music; I’d like more comfortable seating; I’d like a more entertaining speaker; I’d like some return on my investment.

"You do not know what you are asking," Jesus said. "Are you able to drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" We may look around and say, "We need more members, or we’re going to die." Just what are we inviting those potential new members to? " "I think it’s amazing you get as many students [or as many people] to come to Jesus as you do."

Robin Meyers, author and pastor of Mayflower Congregational Church in Oklahoma City, writes in his book, The Underground Church, "We have almost entirely forgotten who we and what we are–a strange, peculiar, and dangerous people." (P. xiv.) Second Congregational Church–Strange? Peculiar? Dangerous? Or are we just hoping for the best seats?

Jesus called the disciples together after this little conversation and said to them,

You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Humanity came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.

Not to be served, but to serve. "There is no smaller package in the world," wrote the late

William Sloane Coffin, "than a person who is all wrapped up in him or herself." It is important to take the time to "Know thyself," as both Socrates and Jesus said. It is important to take the time to discern what our unique strengths and gifts are and to nurture and develop them. That is what Positive Psychology calls "self-concordant goals"–figure out what your strengths are and what your passions are, and then live as much as possible in the place where they overlap. It’s the same with an institution like the church–we should assess what our strengths and assets are, as well as where the passions of our members lie, and then live out of that intersection.

But we must remember, both as individuals and as an institution, that we are given those gifts and strengths, even those passions, for a purpose–to serve. To serve the God of Love and Light, to serve our neighbors, both here and around the world. It ought to require something of us. It ought to demand sacrifice.

During last Sunday’s CROP Walk, one of the young women from the Interact Club developed a blister on her foot. She finally took off her shoes, boots actually, and walked barefoot. As she was walking and chatting with Bruce, he was telling her about some of the people for whom we were walking, who would be receiving some of the funds we were raising. "Then," the young woman said, "I’m actually walking barefoot in solidarity with them. Maybe next year," she said, thinking about it further, "we should all walk barefoot."

So many young people get it. They don’t trust a church that doesn’t ask anything of them, that doesn’t challenge them to dare something risky for an important cause, that doesn’t stand up to injustice, that is no different from any other social club. As that Duke student said, "I think most of them are smart enough to figure out that if they gave their lives to Christ, he would only make their lives more difficult."

As Robin Meyers says, many people say they are "spiritual but not religious" because they do not trust the church as an institution." (Ibid., p. 2) They do not trust an institution that claims to follow a single, homeless man that doesn’t house the homeless and feed the hungry, they do not trust an institution that claims to follow a man that was willing to give his life for others that doesn’t ask anything meaningful from them; let alone an institution that too often has betrayed the trust of the innocent and vulnerable, that has excluded and condemned, rather than reached out and been radically hospitable.

 

People thought Jesus was crazy, anddangerous. That’s the last thing most of us want others to think of us. We, like James and John, have learned the lessons of our culture well. But James and John, along with the other early followers of Jesus, did learn that Jesus was actually teaching them very different lessons, of a very different culture, the culture of the reign of God, very different from the culture of the Empire. And so they were, indeed, "strange, peculiar, and dangerous," so filled with the presence of this rabbi and the God he taught them about, that they were fearless, and there’s nothing more dangerous than someone’s who’s fearless.

So why should anyone join us? If it’s so strange, so peculiar, so dangerous, what’s the "good news"? We’ve got a number of good answers out on the board in 7 words or thereabouts. But, being a little more word-y, I might say that for all its sacrifice, its risk, its challenge, it’s the way to find out who you really are, who you were meant to be. It’s being part of a community of folks who are also searching for their true selves and who find that together they become much more than their individual parts. The way of Jesus gives us a rhythm to our weeks and year, a certain structure to our lives in the midst of an often chaotic and crazy calendar where the days run into each other and we never seem to be able to do or be enough. We are reminded here that we are "enough." We connect in this community with people of all different ages and stages, and we can be open about and even celebrate all those ages and stages. We celebrate the birth of a baby, a teenager’s accomplishment, two people committing their lives to each other, an honor bestowed upon one of our members by the wider community. We can even "celebrate" death, al-though that celebration often includes tears and sorrow shared together. But we know that even death is but one stage–and not the last-- on our journey with God.

So, if we’re perfectly honest, it is amazing that so many of us are here, given who it is we say we are following and the places he led his followers. Robin Meyers, again, issues the invitation to the "underground church," one which "reclaims the subversive way of Jesus." It’s the church "where there is no acceptable alternative to hope, no substitute for joy, and no excuse not to offer the same unconditional love to others that has been so freely lavished on us."

May we be part of that church and follow the subversive way of Jesus. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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CROP Walk 2012

CROP (Communities Responding to Overcome Poverty) Walk :

We had 7 Hoppers who raised $185.72! Way to go Hoppers!

We had 26 walkers who have raised $3,014.15 so far. If you have not given in your sponsorship or would still like to donate, it is not too late! See Nora Parsons. Thanks to all the walkers and sponsors! 25% comes back to our community to help with hunger in Bennington.

What does CROP mean? CROP means folks of our Church family walking together Sunday October 14, starting at 1pm at 2CC ... to take a stand against hunger in our world. It means that together we raise our awareness and that of our neighbors about the millions of people worldwide who live on the edge of subsistence, at the will of fragile economies.

CROP means folks of our church family who could walk outside to their cars, choose to walk 3.3 miles....SHOWING their solidarity with the many people who have to walk every day to get water, tend their fields and animals, to get to work or school, or to escape violence. CROP also means that those who sponsor our Crop walkers raise funds for international relief and development, to help people struggling to escape the crushing grip of poverty and powerlessness. Here in Bennington it means that we raise much-needed money for the Bennington Free Clinic and the Kitchen Cupboard (25% of what we raise is used right here in Bennington.

Whether CROP to you means walking or sponsoring someone, your actions mean something! You can make a difference. Please join us - see Janice Lerrigo or Sue Wiskoski to become a helper during the Crop Walk, a Walker, or become a Spirit Walker by supporting Walkers with $ and your prayers (their names will be on "feet" in Webster Hall).

For more on CROP walks click here CROP Hunger Walks - more stories

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"What about the poor?"-- Amos 5:6-7, 10-15, Mark 10:17-31-- Oct.14, 2012

 

It is Peak Season for politics, with a little over 3 weeks until Election Day. We are in the midst of Presidential and Vice-Presidential debates, with claims and counter-claims being made, and polls jumping up and down like some kind of irregular heart rate monitor.

Jim Wallis, author of several books, including God’s Politics–Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It, and Editor-in-Chief of Sojourners Magazine, offered this analysis of both national parties–

As I carefully watched both the Democratic and the Republican conventions this summer

[and, I would add, as we watch the debates this fall], I realized, once again, how challenging and complicated it is to bring faith to politics.

For example, the phrase "middle class" was likely the most repeated phrase at the conventions. And even though both parties are utterly dependent on their wealthy donors (a fact they don’t like to talk about), they know that middle-class voters will determine the outcome of the election. Now, I believe a strong middle class is good for the country, but Jesus didn’t say, "What you have done for the middle class, you have done for me." Rather, Matthew 25 says, "What you have done to the least of these, you have done to me."

When your first principle for politics is what happens to the poor and vulnerable–and I believe that is the first principle for Christians–you keep waiting at conventions

[or debates]for those words and commitments. There were a few moments when the poor were briefly mentioned, but it certainly wasn’t a strong theme in Tampa or Charlotte. "Opportunity for the middle class" was an important word in both conventions this year, but Christians must be clear that creating new opportunities for poor children and low-income families is critical to us.

The conventions also talked a great deal about "success," but how we define that is very important. Is success mostly about how much money we make, defining the "American Dream" as being able to pass on more riches to our children than what our parents passed on to us? Or is success measured by how we as a nation prioritize, in our spending and political choices, the sick, the vulnerable, the weak, and the elderly? Is it determined more by the values we pass on to our children–evaluating our lives, and theirs, by how much we are able to help others?

(Sojourners Magazine,

Nov. 2012, p. 15)

The story of the rich man who comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life is told in 3 of the 4 gospels. Matthew says that he was young, and Luke adds that he was a ruler. It has all the marks of a healing story, as the man comes and kneels before Jesus, making his request, and Jesus tells him to go, be healed, like he says to so many others. But I believe this is the only story where the person refuses the healing. "When he heard this [go and sell all you have and give it to the poor, then come, follow me], he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions."

And who of us wouldn’t have done the same thing? We are right there with the disciples who "were astounded and said to one another, ‘Then who can be saved?’" And even Jesus concedes, "For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God, all things are possible."

"Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" or, another way of putting that is, "What must I do to live an authentic life?" The man has clearly thrown his heart into "doing the right thing." He replies sincerely that he has kept all the commandments since his youth. Jesus can see this, see his sincerity, and, Mark alone adds, "Jesus loved him." But Jesus can also see what’s holding this man back from fully trusting, or, if you will, "believing in," God. It is his material wealth. It’s his crutch, his safety net, his hedge, against entrusting his life to God.

But just as the man has learned the lessons of his tradition, learned the commandments and the law, so he has learned its assumptions –that wealth is a reward for living righteously. God rewards the righteous and punishes the unrighteous, which is a slightly different way of putting what our culture assumes–wealth and success are the result of one’s own hard work and ingenuity, maybe a little luck, but those who are poor are that way because they’re lazy, shiftless, somehow to blame, they’re stupid, they prefer to "live that way." That despite the reality that in our country, many people are poor due to no fault of their own. One in four children live in poverty in the U.S. Is it their fault? Seven million Americans work two to three jobs and are twice as likely as the wealthy to give up sleeping to work. Are they lazy? The average food stamp benefit is $21/week. Would you choose that way of shopping if you could?

The perils of poverty are well documented–death by malnutrition or starvation, or, as seems to be more and more the case in our country, death by bad nutrition–by sugars and chemicals, resulting in obesity, sugar diabetes, and heart disease. All that with lack of access to health care, including, of course, no preventative health care. The perils of exposure from homelessness or inadequate housing. The loss of dignity and self-esteem. The peril of isolation, ridicule, disdain.

Jesus knew about the perils of wealth as well, however, and knew that this particular man was at risk–at risk of thinking he could somehow buy or earn an authentic life, or happiness, or salvation. At risk of thinking that authentic, or eternal, life is "an achievement earned or a commodity purchased rather than a gift gratefully received and shared," as one United Methodist bishop wrote (Kenneth Carder, Christian Century, 9/24-10/1/97, p. 831) At risk of confusing his–and our, for we are so like this rich man--our resources, our possessions, our status with our identity. At risk of becoming addicted to our stuff or to what our wealth can buy us – experiences, power, access, escape –and so they become more and more necessary, even impacting our health. "The problem with wealth," says Disciples of Christ pastor and author Bruce Epperly, " is that it isolates us from others. It buffers us against the suffering others experience and leads to false complacency about our own personal security....It often leads to rugged, uncaring individualism...where we are tempted to see [our] wealth as deserved, totally the result of [our own] efforts." (Process & Faith lectionary, 10/14/12)

Jesus knew that there were perils of both poverty and wealth; and he knew there were possibilities and blessings in both. "Blessed are you poor," he says in Luke’s gospel, "for yours is the kingdom of heaven." You know what it’s like to be utterly dependent upon God, to know your connection to and dependence upon others. And wealth, if it’s not hoarded but gratefully received as a gift to be shared, can be a tremendous vehicle for good, for relieving suffering, for building up, for creating and discovering. "Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, [he told the man] and you will have treasure in heaven; you’ll be able to come and follow me, learn my way of living and enter into relationship with God, with others, and your true self." Life is not found in riches, but rather in God’s grace. That’s where your true identity and worth come from.

It’s simple but certainly not easy. "For mortals it is impossible," in fact, "but not for God; for God all things are possible." It’s not something we can do, but we might be open to God’s doing it through us. And it’s not just a choice for us in our individual lives but also a choice for us as a community and nation. Consider the opportunity we have each Sunday at least to get to know some of our neighbors from whom we might be isolated the rest of the week. Being part of a Sunday Supper team may take you into territory that makes you uncomfortable but which you also might find transforming. Walking in solidarity today in the CROP with some of the folks profiled by CWS may connect us with a brother or sister whose life is wrapped up in ours. Volunteering at the Kitchen Cupboard or the Free Clinic may be just what you need to discover deeper dimensions of life.

And as you consider who you will vote for this November, consider this from Jim Wallis–

All candidates, including Barack Obama and Mitt Romney, should be evaluated by the competing visions of what they are setting forth for the country, by their vastly different policy positions, and by their personal moral compass and how it will impact their leadership. For Christians, our election choices should always have most to do with protecting ‘the least of these’: [including] low-income individuals and families, undocumented peopled, who are in the biblical category of "the stranger," those most vulnerable to hunger and disease around the world, poor people most impacted by climate change, women and children being trafficked and exploited, and those who are victims of violence and the ‘collateral damage" of war."

(op cit., p. 18)

"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Is there one thing you lack, something that’s getting in your way of living a truly free, authentic life? If it seems overwhelming, that’s ok. With God, all things are possible.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

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"A Complex and Complicating Web"-- Mark 10: 2-16-- Oct. 7, 2012

We know that there are some churches where divorced persons are not welcome-- not welcome at the communion table, or not welcome to attend at all. My guess is that used to be true at Second Congregational Church once upon a time, but, thankfully, I hope, that is no longer true here. I say "I hope" because I cannot speak from the perspective of one who may have felt welcome or not.

The divorce rate in the United States is now roughly 50%, that is, one in every two marriages will most likely end in divorce. The rate goes up for 2^nd and 3^rd marriages and varies by age of the persons who marry. One in two. With the possible exception of celebrities whose marriages have lasted a matter of moments or days, that represents a lot of heartache. I personally haven’t spoken to anyone who’s gotten a divorce who hasn’t had some regret or sadness, either because they got divorced or because they got married in the first place. There are also, frequently, expressions of shame or guilt, whether justified or not.

So, an argument could be made that I must be a little crazy to choose to preach on this text from Mark instead of the reading from Hebrews which talks about the supremacy of Christ or, better yet, some passage having to do with worldwide communion. But, on this communion Sunday, this passage may have something to tell us about the nature of communion and connection, and the cost of being connected, or, if you will, the cost of loving.

Once again, "the Pharisees"–the foil for Jesus in the gospels–have sent a delegation to test Jesus. "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?" And Jesus asks them in return, "What did Moses command you?" They rightly answer, "Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her." It’s true. The law in Deuteronomy allows a man whose wife "does not please him because he finds something objectionable about her," to write a certificate of divorce, give it to her, and send her out of his house, where, by the way, she is now without resources or home or protection. "Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you," Jesus says.

It’s helpful to understand what marriage was in Jesus’ time, because it’s very different from our current Western culture. Biblical scholar John Pilch explains–

In the ancient Mediterranean world, marriages were between families. Each family selected a partner, union with whom was intended to bind the families together, forming a stronger unit. Just as children cannot choose their parents, so too children in this culture could not choose their marriage partners. God chose one’s parents, and through one’s parents God chose one’s marriage partner. Hence Jesus’ cultural truism about marriage: ‘What God has joined together, let no one separate.’

Even such a brief statement of the nature of Mediterranean marriages makes it evident why divorce would be unacceptable. Divorce is not just the separation of two partners but rather the separation of two families. In a society driven by the values of honor and shame, the family of the bride will be shamed. The bride’s male relatives in particular will have to bear the shame as well as the responsibility to remedy it. Feuding will result and undoubtedly escalate to bloodshed. This must be avoided at all cost, hence the cultural rule is no divorce...

(John Pilch, The Cultural World of Jesus, Cycle B, pp. 145-6)

You may have heard of the Indian family sentenced to death this week for murdering their daughter and her fiancee because he was of a lower caste and brought shame to their family. Such honor killings, alas, are still all too common in many parts of the world.

The point is, when marriage is talked about in the Bible it is frequently in a very different context than our own, so we should be careful not to make pronouncements about it too easily. Not only does Jesus respond to the Pharisees’ question in the context of a tightly ordered family structure which bound people together in rigid, often deadly ways, but then he refers back to the creation story in Genesis, to God’s intention for human community and relationships. "But from the beginning of creation, God made them male and female. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh."

Now, as the opponents of same-gender marriage like to say, this refers to Adam and Eve and not Adam and Steve, but that is an argument from silence. This story is seeking to answer the question, Where did human beings come from and why are things the way they are? By simple observation, one could see that male and female were necessary to grow the race. God’s intention, therefore, must have been for male and female to join together "and become one flesh." It really doesn’t conceive of, let alone address, the issue of same-gender relationships; and we know that Jesus also said nothing about them.

Setting up tests, setting up others so that you can separate yourself from them, was not what Jesus was about. Over and over, he sought to create community, to build bridges, to connect people with each other, with God, with their true selves. When the fabric of community was torn or shredded, the result was always heartbreak–it still is–, and it was never God’s intention for human beings.

So I see Jesus’ teaching on divorce in that context. "It is not right for the earth creature to be alone," God says in the second creation story. We are created for relationship. Whenever we enter into an intimate relationship with another, with all the risks and vulnerability that entails, we "tie the knot" of one part of that fabric. When we in the church bless a wedding, we affirm that God is the third party in that relationship. When, for whatever reason–neglect, abuse, growing in different directions, mistake from the get-go, one or both partners’ lack of commitment, stress, human failing, whatever–when the relationship between two people fails, it tears the thread. It results in various levels of pain.

We know that that level of pain can get ratcheted up by nasty divorce proceedings and bitter battles. Nobody wins there. But what I think Jesus is also saying here is that it’s not really possible to "sunder" what God has joined together; there’s no such thing as leaving a relationship behind as though it never happened. It did. We are part of each other, and god is still a party in the relationship. When I meet with couples who are getting married for a second or third time, I always ask about their former partners because they are in this marriage too. Divorce is a legal proceeding. Connection is a sacred design.

"Connection is why we’re here," says sociologist and TED Talk speaker Dr. Brene Brown. In her collection of hundreds of stories about vulnerability and connection, she concludes that what unravels connection is shame, which she defines as the fear of disconnection–Is there something about me that makes people not want to connect with me? Isn’t that part of the shame that some people feel when they are divorced? Is there something about me that is unloveable, that’s not worthy of connection? For those of us who have never been married, maybe never been in an intimate relationships, that may also be the fear or even the shame–that there’s something about me not worthy of connection.

Out of all the stories she collected about vulnerability and shame, Dr. Brown decided to focus on those people who, despite it all, still had a sense of worthiness about themselves and a strong sense of love and belonging. The main difference between them and those who didn’t was simply–or not so simply–that they believed they were worthy of love and belonging. They approached life with a whole-heartedness. And what they all had in common was courage, from the Latin root for heart–to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart –the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves and others. They made connections as a result of their authenticity, being true to themselves. They fully embraced their vulnerability, and in fact they believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. "Connection is why we’re here."

Regardless of our marital status, all of us experience vulnerability. The threads of the fabric are so beautiful yet also so fragile. In just a moment, everything can change. Yet the threads are also so intricately woven together, that the fabric of life is unimaginably strong. Our vulnerability is, indeed, what makes us beautiful, part of a greater Beauty. We can all learn to live wholeheartedly.

Rather than being a ticket to security, marriage is an exercise in vulnerability, to entrust yourself to, throw your lot in with, another person. It is to risk loving, which is always risky–that person may reject you, or change, or hurt you, or die. Whole-hearted living involves the risk of heartbreak.

I actually imagine God as heartbroken much of the time, heart-broken at our turning away from our truth, heart-broken at our hard-heartedness, our cruelty and neglect of one another and the earth, heart-broken at our wall-building obsession instead of our bridge-building calling.

So God is an expert in broken heartedness. Our broken hearts are not alien to God, are no barrier to God. Because God is also an expert in whole-heartedness. God is always patching up the fabric, re-tying the threads, adding a strand of shocking beauty when we least expect it. Always widening the circle to let another in.

That’s what Jesus did when the disciples tried to keep the children away. Children were the least powerful, the most vulnerable, the ones often sent by the adults in that culture to wander into homes or gatherings to find out secrets. "Let the children come to me," Jesus said. I’ve got nothing to hide and everything to share.

The invitation to connection, to community, extends to everyone who wants to come. This is the welcome table. Here’s as good a statement of welcome as I’ve seen–it comes from Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Community in Daytona Beach, FL--

　

We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay, filthy rich, dirt poor, yo no habla Ingles. We extend a special welcome to those who are crying new-borns, skinny as a rail or could afford to lose a few pounds.

We welcome you if you can sing like Andrea Bocelli or like our pastor who can’t carry a note in a bucket. You’re welcome here if you’re "just browsing," just woke up or just got out of jail. We don’t care if you’re more Catholic than the Pope, or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s baptism.

We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet, and to teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome soccer moms, NASCAR dads, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte-sippers, vegetarians, junk-food eaters. We weclome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems or you’re down in the dumps or if you don’t like "organized religion," we’ve been there too.

If you blew all your offering money at the dog track, you’re welcome here. We offer a special welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell, or because grandma is in town and wanted to go to church.

We welcome those who are inked, pierced or both. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a kid or got lost in traffic and wound up here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers and doubters, bleeding hearts...and you!

"Let the children come to me," Jesus said. I’ve got nothing to hide and everything to share. Everything that I have and everything that I am is yours.

Here--This is my body, broken for you. This is my blood, the cup of the new covenant in my blood, poured out for you and for everyone for the forgiveness of sin, or, another way of putting is, for the repairing of the breach between you and God and one another. All are welcome here.

                                                                                                                                     Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Who’s in and what’s ‘in’?"-- Mark 9: 38-50-- Sept. 30, 2012

This passage from Mark is just one of the many reasons I am not a fundamentalist, or someone who takes the Bible literally. And, in fact, nobody really is a true Biblical literalist. As John Dominic Crossan puts it so nicely, "Just because Jesus is the Lamb of God doesn’t mean that Mary had a little lamb."

If we were to take this passage from Mark literally, every Christian congregation– evangelical, progressive, conservative, liberal–would be full of torsos with no hands or feet and faces with eyes gouged out. I’m not sure how big that would go over with the television stations.

"If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, [Jesus said] it would better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched."

There is a form of proverbial wisdom, one Biblical scholar explains, "called the ‘better than’ proverb. It presents two sharply opposed choices, one of which is clearly good and the other clearly not." (Alyce McKenzie, Edgy Exegesis, 9/24/12) "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold" (Prov. 22:1) is one example from the book of Proverbs. "Better is open rebuke than hidden love." (Prov. 27:5)

This, of course, was part of the wisdom tradition in which Jesus grew up. And, in good Jewish tradition, he took the form and made it his own–he "borrowed their forms and used them in edgy ways to subvert conventional wisdom’s do’s and don’ts." (McKenzie, op cit.) The sharp-tongued preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes did the same thing– "I thought the dead who have already died, [he wrote] more fortunate than the living, who are still alive, but better than both is the one who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun." (Eccl. 9:18)

Jesus was schooled in that tradition, but as Alyce McKenzie writes, "What Jesus does is take a traditional proverbial form used to offer clear-cut options and adds a dash of paradox and big dollop of hyperbole...The paradox is that he presents something clearly painful and distasteful [being drowned in the sea, or cutting off your hand or your foot] as the better choice. He uses hyperbole by exaggerating the choice to the Nth degree–all these self-amputations are better than being whole in hell." (Op cit.)

"These are not legal rules meant to be enforced literally as general regulations [another scholar explains]. They are meant to make us look at human behavior in a whole new way." (Robert Tannehill, cited by McKenzie, op cit.)

When people (we) exaggerate, we are stretching the truth. "When I was your age, I walked to school everyday, 5 mi. each way, uphill all the way, carrying my sister, who was pregnant at the time." That’s hyperbole, exaggeration, stretching the truth. But here, Jesus means to show us how really destructive our actions can be. It really matters if the way you act or what you say causes someone else who’s still searching for faith or trust in God to turn away from God. "People were so offended by Jesus’ exaggeration, [McKenzie writes] not because it wasn’t true, but because it was." (Ibid.)

This YouTube video defaming the prophet Mohammed that has caused so much uproar and violence is an example of how what we say or do in the name of God really matters. It can have devastating consequences. We tend to think that religion is just a topic for conversation, maybe steering away from off-color religious jokes, but, you know, it’s just religion. Obviously, it’s not just religion and certainly not a joke for millions and millions of people, not only fundamentalist Muslims but for millions of Jews who were killed in the Holocaust because of their religion. It was literally a matter of life and death.

And while we must defend free speech, as President Obama said this week, with the ability now at the touch of a button to spread lies and hatred all over the world, we need to examine and perhaps update both our understanding of free speech and of what we will take offense at, while at the same time, condemning violence against innocents in all cases.

This whole discussion of Jesus’ about the consequences of putting stumbling blocks in front of "little ones" is framed here in Mark in the context (not surprisingly) of community. What are the obligations of community and what are the limits of that community?

The disciples have just complained that they saw someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name who was not in their group. Jesus tells them to expand their notion of "group." "Whoever is not against us is for us," he told them. For Jesus, connection is paramount. The alternative is to be in hell. How different a sense of community that is from the statement made during the War in Iraq–"If you’re not with us, you’re against us." That kind of statement puts up walls, whereas Jesus’ statement builds bridges. In a religiously super-charged world, we can and should be building bridges with moderate Muslims, Jews, and atheists, instead of merely returning violence for violence against radical Islamists. In a politically super-charged season and country, with extremists at both ends of the political spectrum hurling venom and lies at each other, we can and should be building bridges and supporting those willing to engage in conversation across the aisles. "Whoever is not against us is for us," Jesus said. Build allies. Build community.

And what is the nature of that community? Is it "anything is ok"? Is it so open-minded as to be empty? Hardly. "Everyone will be salted with fire," Jesus said. "Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

What makes us "salty"? What is the nature of our community? Is it our radical hospitality? Is it our "friendliness"? Is it our commitment to mission, at least to financially support all kinds of mission projects? What is it? Or, Have we lost our saltiness, or is it diluted? How are we different from any other service club? What flavor and spice to we bring to our community, to our own lives? These are all important questions. "Everyone will be salted with fire," Jesus said. "Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

A group of ministers, laypeople, artists, musicians, and their children, initially from the Old South UCC Church in Boston, have gotten together to form what they call "The Salt Project." On their website, they explain that they are "dedicated to reclaiming and sharing the beauty of Christian life through film, photography, music, poetry and ideas. We aim to build a community of conversation and resource-sharing that, like salt itself, preserves and seasons the best and most beautiful of the Christian tradition." I urge you, if you do this sort of thing, to check out their website at saltproject.org. What might our "salt project" look like?

"Everyone will be salted by fire," Jesus said. When potters throw salt into the kiln, they know that salt alters the surface of the pot in ways that cannot be entirely predicted or controlled. "The potter has to trust that when the salt is given to the fire [one artist explains], it will do its work; that, blessed by the intention and focus the potter brings, the salt will make a way for the wild beauty that will come." (Jan Richardson, Painted Prayerbook, 9/25/12)

"If salt has lost its saltiness," Jesus said, "how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another." "One another" is not just with the two people sitting on either side of you. Community is much bigger than that, including those you might not expect to be included. But that’s the kind of salty community Jesus formed and is forming. It’s so important that it’s worth giving an arm and a leg for.

So may we receive – and be– this blessing from artist Jan Richardson, called "Blessing of Salt and Fire"–

And so, in this season,

may we give ourselves

to the fire

that shows us

what is elemental

and sacramental,

that reveals what remains

after all that does not have

substance or savor

falls away.

May we turn

our eyes

our ears

our hands

to the beauty

for which we were formed

and bear with grace

the patterns

that blossom upon us

who live salted

and singed.

(Ibid.)

May it be so. Amen

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Speaking of Religion..."

Wed., Sept. 26, 2012 --  I got alot of comments, mostly positive, about a "Speaking of Religion" column I wrote for the Bennington Banner last month.  So here it is.  I'd welcome your comments and thoughts--

Since Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in the 4^th c. of the Common Era, the Christian Church has been part of The Establishment, at least in the West.  That has been both a blessing and a curse—a blessing, in that it has allowed Christians to worship openly and freely, a curse in the sense that power has all too often corrupted and distorted the original message of Jesus.  Streams within the Christian tradition have all along witnessed to the alternative notion of power as serving, as sacrificing self-centered desires, as standing alongside the powerless and witnessing for justice.

 

United Church of Christ Pastor Robin Meyers has written a book entitled, The Underground Church: Reclaiming the Subversive Way of Jesus, urging the church to “recapture the spirit of the early church,” before we became part of the establishment. He challenges his readers to imagine what such a church might look like.

 

“So  just imagine…[Meyers writes]

--A church where women are truly equal to men, and never patronized.

--A church where straights and gays worship together as children of God…

--A church where following Jesus is just as important as worshiping Christ.

--A church where trying to discern what Jesus taught us about God is more important than arguing over what the church has taught us about Jesus…

--A church where we earn our tax-exempt status by giving space back to the communities we serve in ways that create community and bring people into true fellowship with one another.

--A church where learning is not subversive and science is not the enemy of faith.

--A church where fear is never an instrument of religious conversion or conversation.

--A church where the enemy is not death but rather our failure to truly live…

--A church where we tend the small garden we have been given and do not participate in the murder of creation….

--A church where being rich means having everything you need instead of everything you want.

--A church where there is no acceptable alternative to hope, no substitute for joy, and no excuse not to offer the same unconditional love to others that has been so freely lavished on us.”

 

We at Second Congregational Church, UCC, in our commitment to follow in the way of Jesus, try to be such a church.  We’re not perfect and probably never will be.  There are other things on Meyers’ list that we’d like to say we are but can’t yet.  We know it’s a journey.  We welcome companions on that journey, “whoever you are, wherever you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here,” we say each Sunday morning.  And we gladly walk alongside other communities of faith who share the vision of God’s realm made real on earth, where all are welcome, where all have enough to live, where all come to know themselves as beloved children of God.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark, Pastor

Second Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Bennington

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"The Happiness Revolution" --James 3:13-4:3; Mark 9:30-37-- Sept. 23, 2012

"Revolution" is all over the news. The Middle East is rife with it, as the Arab Spring has turned into summer, autumn, winter, spring, and summer/autumn again. Images from Africa and Latin America of young men–and sometimes young women-- armed with machetes and machine guns disturb and even frighten us. The "Occupy Wall St." movement just marked its one-year anniversary. Upheaval, overthrow, disturbance, confrontation, sometimes peaceful, too often violent. Such news can be scary, as these human wildfires threaten to burst into higher flames at the slightest gust of insult, foolish speech, perceived humiliation. Revolution.

Remember, though, that our country was born out of revolution–a refusal to have no say in how we are governed, a demand that the fruits of our labors not be merely sent overseas to a distant monarch, a protest against the seizing of ships and cargo and sailors engaged in legitimate trade, a desire to create a new form of government and way of living together, a recognition that this new physical environment offered new possibilities. "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" were lifted up as inalienable rights.

Jesus was and is viewed by many as a "revolutionary," teaching and modeling a way of life that upset the status quo, that moved beyond rigid family structures and hierarchical ways of thinking. The kingdom of God which he preached stood in stark contrast to the kingdom of Caesar. When Jesus’ followers called Jesus "Lord" and "Son of God," that was in direct contradiction to the Roman Empire’s claim that Caesar was "Lord" and "Son of God." Jesus was most likely crucified because of this "revolutionary" teaching and activity.

And what was Jesus’ revolutionary "platform"? It was that God, not Caesar, not money or wealth, is to be served. "You cannot serve two masters," he said, "for you will either love the one and hate the other, or hate the one and love the other. You cannot serve God and mammon, or money." His revolutionary platform was that the first in the revolution would be those who the current system considered last–and he drew a child into their midst, saying, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." Children were considered the lowest of the low, with no status, no rights. "In antiquity," writes one Biblical scholar, "childhood was a time of terror. Infant mortality rates sometimes reached 30% of live births. Sixty percent were dead by the age of sixteen. These figures reflect not only the ravages of unconquered diseases but also the outcomes of poor hygiene...A minor child was considered equal to a slave." (John Pilch, The Cultural World of Jesus, Cycle B, p. 139)

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." To welcome a child is to welcome God! That’s revolutionary talk!

Or what about Jesus’ follower who wrote, "Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures."

In a world where craving new things or more things, where resources and power are considered to be limited, where success of one person or group always comes at the expense of another, these words that we find in the Letter of James are revolutionary talk. It was even too revolutionary for the Church as the years and centuries went on, and it accumulated more wealth, more power, all in the name of God. So Jesus’ revolution went underground. Some followers of Jesus formed monastic communities, sharing everything in common, devoting themselves to serving God. Other communities and pockets of followers took Jesus’ revolutionary talk at his word, and cared for children and orphans, fed the hungry, tended the sick, stood with the oppressed, used the resources entrusted to them not to accumulate wealth but used them to make the revolutionary kingdom of God or reign of God more visible on earth. They sought happiness and meaning not seeking more "stuff" or power or wealth or celebrity, but in serving others, in discovering God in the most unlikely places--within themselves and in others whose divinity wasn’t all that obvious.

Imagine, then, my initial surprise but then "ah ha" moment when I read this in Tal Ben-Shahar’s book, Happier. Tal teaches the course I’m taking in Positive Psychology and is one of the field’s leading scholars and teachers. He was talking about the many benefits of the scientific revolution– things like greater life expectancy through discoveries in medicine, better productivity in agriculture through greater understanding of soil cultivation, improved seeds, advances in astronomy so that we have been to the moon and beyond, have greater understandings of our place in the universe, and so forth. But, he writes,

...our perception of science as omnipotent can lead to a new set of challenges. One of these challenges, a by-product of the scientific revolution, is the prevalence of material perception, the belief that the material is the highest on the hierarchy of importance...The problem arises when the freedom to pursue material wealth is replaced with a compulsion to amass it. The alternative to material perception is happiness perception, which is about moving away from seeing the material as the highest end, as our central pursuit.

(op cit., p. 159)

Now, I’m not crazy about the word "happiness"–it’s a little too "smiley-face." I prefer Martin Seligman’s phrase "well-being," so you might want to substitute that whenever you hear the word "happiness."

Tal often speaks of happiness perception as the spiritual opposite of material perception. "Happiness perception [he writes] involves finding the overlap among the three questions ‘What gives me meaning?’ ‘What gives me pleasure?’ ‘What are my strengths?’ It is about asking, ‘What is my calling?’" (160)

"I believe that the spread of happiness perception can bring about a society-wide revolution," Tal writes, no less significant than what Karl Marx had hoped to achieve."

What would happen if most people internalized the change from material to happiness perception? First, envy, among individuals and cultures, would be reduced considerably...The need to bring others down comes from a materialistic perception of a world in which resources are a zero-sum game and one’s success implies another’s failure, where one’s gain is another’s loss. More generally, if happiness perception prevails, individual and international conflicts would be reduced significantly. Most wars are fought over land, oil, gold, and other material goods. The leaders in these countries who are responsible for fueling these conflicts accept the false premise that the ultimate currency for their country–and for themselves–is how much material wealth they possess.

...The quantity of happiness is not fixed: an abundance of happiness for one person or country does not deprive another. The pursuit of happiness does not set up a zero-sum game but a positive -sum game–everyone can be better off. As the Buddha said, ‘Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.’ Unlike material possessions, which are usually finite, happiness is infinite."

(Ibid.)

It is clear that the material revolution has not brought us happiness. Research has shown that those who pursue wealth as their ultimate end and obsession actually have a lower sense of self-actualization, are more depressed, and have more physical symptoms (although those who see wealth as an indicator of hard work, as a vehicle to do good, do not necessarily experience those negative symptoms). The average age of the onset of depression in our culture is now 15. Except for those in the lowest income brackets, having more money does not lead to greater happiness. This idea of happiness, rather than the material, as the ultimate currency is reflected in the question, Would you rather be a miserable millionaire or a happy pauper? Which is it for you?

"Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? [writes the author of the Letter of James] Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts."

The Asian country of Bhutan, tucked between the two super-powers China and India, actually measures its success not in terms of Gross National Product, but in Gross National Happiness. There’s a revolution that doesn’t get too many headlines.

"I have sheep that are not of this fold," Jesus says in the gospel of John, and I have no doubt the revolutionary movement of the Holy Spirit is at work in surprising ways. Maybe the 500 year rummage sale that the church is going through includes the ways that the secular field of Positive Psychology is permeated by the wisdom of Jesus. Maybe the revolution is popping out in the tiny Buddhist nation of Bhutan, concerned about happiness rather than product. Krista Tippett’s conversation on "Speaking of Faith" this morning on VPR was with two young evangelical Christian leaders who are part of the "next Christianity," as she calls it–less strident, more concerned about walking the walk than talking the talk, being engaged in working for the common good, building bridges rather than putting up walls. What a concept! It sounds a bit like the really old Christianity, the one that Jesus lived and talked about.

No revolution is peaceful for everyone. Those who benefit from the status quo do not readily give up those benefits or that comfort for a new way of being. That the "Jesus Revolution" or the "Happiness Revolution" is not all fun and games is made clear by Jesus’ insistence that "The Son of Humanity is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." Happiness, or well-being, which really expresses it better, is not a matter of surface bubbles, but of the deep, underlying well of Life and Love from which we can draw even in the most difficult and tragic times. Betrayal, loss, even death cannot penetrate deeply enough to empty that well. Suffering is part of the fully human life, but it does not have to define our lives.

A friend of mine did her Psychology residency at the Dana-Farber Institute, where she worked with children with cancer. She learned many lessons from these children, but one that stands out for me is this–"If you can live in the moment [Maria writes] doing what you love, as children can, and you are surrounded by those you trust, then suffering is ameliorated and it becomes a part, not the whole, of your life." (Maria Sirois, Every Day Counts, p. 24).

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, [Jesus said] and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

The wisdom to live into this revolution is both ancient and new–"The wisdom from above [or deep below, to keep the image of the well] is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace." God’s intention for us and for our world persistently, powerfully, gracefully is still seeking to become manifest, to blossom forth in ways both wondrous and beyond our imagination. May we offer our lives to the cause and join the revolution. May we be part of this harvest of peace.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Who do you say that I am?"-- Mark 8:27-38-- September 16, 2012

Smack dab in the middle of Mark’s gospel–between Jesus’ ministry of "opposing all that oppresses God’s people," (David Lose, WorkingPreacher.com, 9/9/12) as one writer puts it--the healings, the exorcisms, the feeding, and so forth–and the journey to the cross, right here in the middle we find this conversation between Jesus and his disciples. "And on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’" And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him."

It may sound like a conversation to pass the time while walking from one town to the next ("on the way"), but it was far more than that–really the pivot of Jesus’ whole ministry, in fact. Who do you say that I am? It’s not just a question of names or terms, but of authority. Why does anything I say or do matter? What difference does it make–in your life, in the life of your community, or to the world, for that matter? "Who do you say that I am?"

The Christian Century, a venerable and well-respected bi-weekly journal that we receive here at the church, recently ran an article entitled, "The Gospel in 7 Words." The pre-text was this–

"In his autobiography Brother to a Dragonfly, Will Campbell recalls how his friend P.D. East had badgered him for a succinct definition of Christianity. East did not want a long or fancy explanation. ‘I’m not too bright,’ he told Campbell. ‘Keep it simple. In ten words or less, what’s the Christian message?’ Campbell obliged his friend: ‘We’re all bastards but God loves us anyway,’ he said. To which East replied, ‘If you want to try again, you have two words left."

(The Christian Century, Sept. 5, 2012, p. 20)

So, "the Century invited some authors to try their hand at summarizing the Christian message in seven words or less." (Ibid.) Here are a few of their answers–"We live by grace," wrote Craig Barnes. Donald Shriver wrote, "Divinely persistent, God really loves us." Author Mary Karr wrote, "We are the church of infinite chances." Environmental activist Bill McKibben thinks "Love your neighbor as yourself" summarizes the gospel. Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann writes with characteristic density, "Israel’s God’s bodied love continues world-making." (Century, pp. 20-25) ("I used only six words. I rested on the 7th.")

The Gospel in 7 words or less. Who do you say that I am? Jesus asked. How would you answer? Could you put the gospel in 7 words or less?

We know Peter’s answer. "You are the Messiah," which didn’t seem to please Jesus all that much. "He sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him." And the conversation got even more uncomfortable as it went on. "Then he began to teach them that the Son of Humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great 19^th c. American Transcendentalist, wrote, "In a friend, I’m not looking for a mush of concession, a person who will agree with everything I say. Rather, I’m looking for a person who will challenge me, who will become a beautiful enemy, a person who will help me in my apprenticeship to the truth."

Jesus was looking for a beautiful enemy, not someone who would simply tell him what they thought Jesus would want to hear. If Jesus had any sense that he was the Messiah, he knew it was not the kind of Messiah that most people expected, the one who would free Israel from the occupation of the Romans, the kind of king whose armies and powers would overpower all other kings and armies, matching violence for violence, no matter how good a God he might be proclaiming. "Don’t just tell people I’m the Messiah," Jesus says. "They won’t understand what that really means."

Interestingly enough, 106 years ago on September 11, Gandhi delivered his speech that launched the non-violent resistence movement that changed India forever. "I am prepared to die for this cause," he said, "but there is not a cause for which I will kill." He also affirmed, "We are Hindu and Muslim, all children of God, and in the name of that God, let us swear a solemn vow that we will resist this unjust law, but we will not kill." It is significant that Gandhi’s model for non-violence was Jesus. We may disagree on whether non-violence is the same as pacifism (I don’t think it is) and whether it has any moral backbone to it (I think it’s got more than I have), but it is clear what the way of Jesus is. Whether it is a way that can be followed by a nation is not clear, even though that nation may call itself "Christian." India under Gandhi’s leadership followed the way of non-violence, but we know that India no longer follows that way.

"He began to teach them that the Son of Humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

Stephen Cope, director of Kripalu’s Institute of Extraordinary Living, writes that they have made some surprising discoveries in their research on people who are trying to discover and nourish the gifts they’ve been given, artists, musicians, teachers, whatever. One surprise is that the gift requires practice. The most successful musicians, artists, whatever are not those simply with the greatest innate gifts, but those who worked at developing and honing their gifts. The gift requires practice.

The second surprise was this: that a person’s unique gift is quite often paired with their woundedness. "Strangely, our greatest strength (and greatest possibility) seems to be routinely paired with our greatest limitation–even our greatest wound." (The Great Work of Your Life @mariashriver.com/blog/2012/09) For example, one successful writer’s poetry comes out of the difficult circumstances of her life, an abusive childhood and the early loss of her mother. Our greatest gifts may be paired with our woundedness. Might this be a different way to think of our unique cross, which Jesus told us we must take up to follow him?

And related to this is the third surprise in the Extraordinary Living research–"The full flowing of the gift [writes Cope] is usually paired with a sacrifice of some kind," the giving up of something else–even something important–to fully serve the gift. "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."

The word for "life" here is psyche, meaning "life force," or "vital force." To gain that vitality, that life, we have to give up clinging to it and everything else we think our lives depend upon, for when we "get clingy," as one commentator puts it, "then we have no free arm to reach out to another." (Alyce McKenzie, Edgy Exegesis, 9/10/12)

This conversation began with Jesus’ question to his disciples–"Who do you say that I am?" And though Peter had the "right" answer–You are the Messiah–it wasn’t an answer they were to tell anyone else, because it wouldn’t communicate the Truth of who Jesus was and is. Much of our "church-y" language today doesn’t communicate the Truth of who Jesus is, either–language like "lord" and "savior". What does that really mean to anyone not raised in the church (or even to those of us who were)? "Who do you say that I am?"

Here are a few more of the 7-words-or-less answers the Christian Century writers submitted–Kathleen Norris wrote, "God is love: This is no joke." "To dwell in possibility," another wrote, after Emily Dickinson’s poem, I Dwell in Possibility. "God refuses to be God without us," wrote United Methodist bishop William Willimon. "Everybody gets to grow and change," wrote UCC pastor Lilian Daniel, though in parentheses she added, "(but not everyone will grow and change.)" "Christ’s humanity occasions our divinity," wrote Scott Cairnes. "God gets the last word." – Martin Copenhaver. "We are who God says we are," wrote another (Nadia Bolz-Weber).

Who do you say that I am? In a world where labels like Christian or Muslim or Jew, conservative or liberal, get hurled around, we ought to be able to speak clearly and succinctly about what being a Christian, a follower of Jesus, means to us. How would you respond to a friend who asked you, "In ten words or less, what’s the Christian message?" Here’s the six word phrase I came up with–

"Love includes you and outlasts death." Love includes you and outlasts death.

Here’s your assignment for the week. In 7 words or less, what is the Gospel for you? There’s a sheet on the folding choir doors in Webster Hall for you to add your phrase. Mine is up there. You can add your name or initials or not.

"Who do you say that I am?"

                                                                                                                                  --Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Invitation to Dance" --2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12-16, Mt. 11:16-19-- Sept. 9, 2012

Listen again to that poem of the 14^th c. Persian poet Hafiz–

Every child

Has known God

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don’ts

Not the God who never

does anything weird,

But the God who only knows

four words

and keeps repeating them,

saying

"Come dance with Me"

Come

Dance.

 

Maybe you prefer a more contemporary sage. How’s this from Snoopy?– "To live is to dance; to dance is to live."

Gertrude Mueller Nelson tells of working on a sewing project when her 3-year old daughter Annika discovered all the brightly-colored strips of fabric in the waste basket. She eagerly gathered them up and disappeared. A little while later, Gertrude found Annika out in the backyard, attaching the strips of fabric to a stick with mounds of tape. "I’m making a banner for a procession," she said. "I need a procession so that God will come down and dance with us." (Nelson, To Dance with God, p. 3)

"What this little primitive reminded me," Nelson writes, "was how innate and easy [children’s] way is with the sacred...and what a sense of wonder." As we begin another season of Godly Play today, encouraging our children to wonder about things, about the stories from the Bible, about the world around them, we would do well to join them in their dance with God. Middle school students are finding connections between the issues and attitudes they encounter every day–issues like hunger or poverty or cliques or bullying or dating–and how they connect with their faith. We would do well to join them in their dance with God. Students in high school are being invited to consider confirming their faith, to spend this year exploring the traditions of our faith and asking their own questions, wondering about things, about the Bible, about themselves, about God, about their world, about anything and everything. We would do well to join them in their dance with God.

Now, we may not be at all sure about this "dancing" business. Maybe like Michal, Saul’s beautiful daughter who hated David for dancing in front of the Ark of the Covenant in only a loincloth, maybe we think there’s something "unseemly," maybe something irreverent, about dancing, let alone dancing with God. There is certainly plenty of precedent for that in the Christian tradition. The movie "Footloose" told a story about that. And the very title of the movie "Dirty Dancing" sums up what some people think about all dancing.

Of course, we may not want to dance because we’re too self-conscious. "I can’t dance, don’t ask me..." We’re clumsy, or we don’t know the steps. We’ll look foolish. We like things a little more under control. Maybe our body is too stiff, too sore, too uncooperative.

And maybe dancing is just too frivolous. There are chores to be done, serious matters to consider, the world going to hell in a handbasket. Who has time to dance?

Or maybe it’s too primitive, not intellectual or rational enough. The great historian of religions from Harvard, Arthur Darby Nock, wrote, "Primitive religion is not believed. It is danced." We’re more worried about "belief," not how to dance.

"To what will I compare this generation?" Jesus asked. "It is like children sitting in the marketplaces, and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Humanity came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."

Are you alive? Jesus asks. Do you find joy in anything?

Kerra Becker English is a Presbyterian minister in Richmond, VA who took up ballroom dancing lessons when she was in seminary as a break from the head trip that seminary can sometimes be. She has made some observations about what can be learned from dancing, either on the ballroom dance floor with a human partner, or in life, with God as your Partner–capital P!

The first lesson is "Maintain your frame. Or, as a counselor might say it, ‘Know your boundaries.’ Hold on too tightly, vice-grip. Hold on too loosely, spaghetti arms." (English, in "Congregations," Issue 3, 2012, p. 6) If we are so uptight, so rigid, so controlling, so closed off to anything new or spontaneous in our life of faith, we might as well be one of those pillars in the middle of the dance floor instead of a dancer. On the other hand, if we have no spine, no sense of who we are, no substance or boundaries, if anything goes, we’re not much of a dancing partner. It’s hard to engage in a relationship if there’s nothing there, nothing to build on. It’s hard to maintain any connection. "A spiritual frame as I understand it [writes English] is about active engagement, connection, and readiness." (Ibid.) That’s true for us as individuals and as a church. We need to know who we are, and from that place of knowing, be ready to engage, connect, learn, grow.

The second lesson, says English, is to move. That’s what dancing is, isn’t it? Moving? Now, I know that there are people whose bodies are unable to move but whose spirits soar. I would still call that moving. Dancing with God or "following Jesus" ..is not about standing still in a tradition," English writes, "it’s about taking in all that spiritual energy and allowing it to move and expand and grow." Jesus encouraged his disciples to take what he had taught them and then do it better. He expected them to grow and evolve.

We as adults would do well to follow in the footsteps of our younger companions on this journey–not just because "they are our future," as we hear often, but because of what they can share with us right now– in Godly Play, which is what our children up through 5^th grade are engaging in; in exploring issues of daily life–"attitudes and issues," as it’s called–which our middle school students are doing; and questioning and arriving at some point of confirmation, which our high school students are invited to. What would it look like for you to engage in Godly Play? Have you ever read an article in the newspaper and then reflected upon what your faith has to bring to it? Is there anything you know for sure, what you can confirm, that is your true north, your center of gravity, from which all of your actions and meaning in life flow?

Which in a way leads into the 3^rd lesson that English suggests–"Dance on your own two feet." Learn balance. Know where your center of gravity is. "The spiritual life is upheld by learning and repeating those practices that enable the practitioners to keep their own balance. Even the very best dance partner cannot maintain balance for two! Sadly, [she writes], we live in a world that is constantly throwing us off balance." This fall’s political campaign is an example, writ large, of the dangers of hanging out on the extremes. But we need to learn to live in that tension between the extremes, to find our balance between too much work and not enough work, too much time on our hands and no time to ourselves.

Boredom–that great complaint of our time–"comes from taking for granted what is around us," Gertrude Nelson writes. "We are numb. We do not allow ourselves to be touched and quickened." (Op cit.) So even though we are moving in this dance of life, we also need to take the time to notice, to appreciate, to savor. The music is made not only by the notes but also by the rests. It’s a dance between sound and silence. So as we practice our moves, we must also practice our pauses, including those times when we lean into our partner and trust that we will be held up.

"Take one step at a time," is the 4^th dancing lesson. We might call it mindfulness. Be here now. "Life is what happens when you’ve made other plans," someone has said, and how many times has that proven itself to be true? God’s timing is not always our timing, so you might as well sit loose, and take one step at a time.

This dance is not just a self-absorbed undertaking. English says she learns to "Sympathize with those who are dancing life backwards and in heels," which, you may recall, is what has been said about Ginger Rogers, who had to stay right with her more famous partner Fred Astaire, but all the while, dancing backwards and in heels. "Sympathize with those who are dancing life backwards and in heels," In other words, we can learn compassion, as this dance takes us beyond our own individual orbits, where we can indeed go deep, but we must also move out to touch other lives. There are those who may have fallen down, who need time out to re-group or rest, those who don’t have adequate food or health care or shelter in which to sleep. This is a dance of bending and leaning, of supporting and being supported.

And while lots of dancing today would appear to be a mass of individuals doing their own thing, there is in fact a collective energy that connects all the dancers. And, as we know, "it takes two to tango." Just as you practice dance steps, like the tango, or fox trot, or swing dance, or even contra dance, so we come together each week to practice our dance with God and each other. We work on getting to know our partner better, on trying out new moves, on being still together, on listening for the beat and the music.

For, as English says in her last lesson, "Dancing is fun, and life is a dance!" – a variation of Snoopy’s "to live is to dance; to dance is to live." "Dancing is an expression of the joy of life [English writes]–the whole range of joy–from the bouncy happy Jive, to the lovers’ quarrel in Tango, to the lilting rhythm of the Waltz." (p. 8) "It may be," says Sam Keen, "that the sparcity of joy in contemporary life is closely related to the loss of dance as a central vehicle for the education and articulation of values and beliefs," as it is in more "primitive" (but more wise?) cultures. (Keen, To a Dancing God, p. 52) It is a dance of joy, because ultimately, through the worst we might imagine, "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well." (Julian of Norwich).

Every child Has known God – Not the God of names,--Not the God of don’ts--

Not the God who never does anything weird, But the God who only knows four words

and keeps repeating them, saying– "Come dance with Me" - Come – Dance.

Amen, and amen.                                                                  Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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