Sermon - Service is Power (Pentecost 24B)

Mark10:35-45                                                               Panzer Liturgical Service

October 18, 2015                                                           Service is Power

By this time in the Christian year, most preachers are a little afraid to see what Jesus is going to say next. In these last two chapters of Mark’s gospel, he’s been saying and doing some pretty amazing and scary things. In this latest portion of the journey, Jesus has healed a boy of an unclean spirit. He has foretold of his own death and resurrection for a second time.  He has helped the disciples redefine what it means to be great by welcoming children into the Kingdom of God.

He taught us that the penalty for getting in the way of someone’s journey in the Kingdom is high and that our first concern must be keeping the path clear for anyone and everyone to get to him. He helped us understand the real value of marriage is for husband and wife to serve and glorify God in love together. And when we heard about the rich young ruler, we saw someone who walked away sadly because he couldn’t bear to give up his comfortable life to follow Jesus. 

We really want the disciples to get a clue, right? We see them week after week, assuming they are eventually going to understand what Jesus is trying to teach them. At this point in the story, they have made plenty of erroneous assumptions. Just when they think that they understand who Jesus is and why they are following him, they do something to demonstrate that once again they have missed the point. In this week’s gospel lesson, James and John trump their previous indiscriminate  behavior by asking a pretty audacious thing… to sit at the right and left hands of Jesus – that is – to sit at the place of power in the Kingdom of God.

I think that for right or wrong, the disciples were actually looking for demonstrations of two different kinds of power from Jesus. First, did Jesus have the power to give them what they wanted? And second, in the end, would they have the reward they ultimately deserved for leaving everything to follow Jesus?

It’s important to understand how power worked in the society where Jesus lived. Roman occupied the lands of Palestine, with an army left behind to make sure that people stayed in their proper place. Force was used as a last resort, or to make an example for the remainder of the community’s benefit. Getting ahead in the Roman world meant using dominance and oppression to keep people in line. In order to stay out of trouble, people often gave in without a fight.

These two brothers saw their membership in Jesus’ Kingdom through the reflection of the society around them. They were still not able to understand that Jesus’ world is the mirror opposite of what they were expecting life to be. Jesus’ response was simple and puzzling, “I’m not the one to give you what you’re asking for, but are you sure you know what you’re asking for? Can you drink from the cup that’s coming to me? Can you receive the same baptism I receive?”

Their answer was simple, “We can.” Yeah, they really didn’t get it.

Of course, we’re really no different, are we? We, too, are looking for power. We may not understand that’s what we’re doing some of the time, but the world around us tells us that the only place with any value is at the top of the heap. And so that’s where we strive to be. Even in our goodness, our helpfulness, our work for the kingdom of God, we want to be extraordinary… we want to be the best.

In some ways, the lectionary committee has done us a little disservice by starting our reading at verse 35. If we go back to verse 32, we will hear Jesus foretelling of his arrest, crucifixion and resurrection for a third time on this journey.  In that context, it’s especially curious that James and John would want to be at Jesus’ side in the end. There’s a lot of difficult stuff that’s going to happen before Jesus comes into his glory.

Jesus asks them, “You want to sit at my right hand and left hand?”  In the end the disciples scattered, but those who took the place of honor beside him were common criminals.

The Jesus we worship today is the post-resurrection Jesus. Unless it’s Holy Week , we don’t spend much time thinking about what is really happening as Jesus heads toward death.  There is no way around it. Jesus was dominated in the crucifixion. The very process stripped away his dignity and made him a victim just like those who came before him.  We see the cross and we think of the ultimate glory achieved.  But in the light of this passage, we must remember that this was a significant use of power in that day and time. And this is what power does to protect itself. The status quo must be protected at all costs.

In the end, the other disciples show their own true selves in their anger at James and John over their unreasonable request. Jesus confronts them all with a new reality check. He tells them that if they want to be members of his kingdom, they need to understand and live out power in a new and different way. Instead of seeking greatness, you will need to be a servant. Instead of seeking to be first, you need to be willing to be last. And he gently reminds them that service about self is the only real way to freedom. In the Kingdom of God, power is only worth something if it helps empower someone in need.[i]

For the most part, we understand and believe the good news about who Jesus is. We accept Jesus as our Savior and hope to one day share in his Kingdom and glory. But it takes a long time for us to progress to the next level of Christian life. We get comfortable. We settle in. We find our way to the top and make a home. But Jesus has a message for us. If we are going to follow him, we have to drink from his cup.

We won’t pass from this life unscathed. We will get sick. We will experience disappointments and heartbreaks. Our sufferings, whether physical, mental, emotional or spiritual, they will be more common than we want or expect. And those things can make us or break… depending on how much we are willing to hold on to Jesus and his promises for us.

And in the second part of that message, we learn (again) what it means to follow Jesus. He calls us to a life of serving, not of being served. And that is more often than not, a hard thing to hear, and even harder to remember.[ii]

Rev David Sellery says: While we may not be ready for this level of perfection, we can take the first step. Let's start with a simple attitude adjustment. Listen more, talk less. Try understanding. Try forgiving. Try seeing things from the other person's point of view. Try not to take offense. Stop trying to convince everyone that you're the smartest guy in the room. Start bringing energy, encouragement and affirmation to everyone you encounter today. Start helping and do it humbly. Consciously make being an active loving Christian the focus of your day. Then wake up tomorrow and do it again. [iii]

Nobody said it would be easy. But I close with the words from a familiar chorus, which I think can be a gentle reminder and point us in the right direction:

“Day by day. O dear Lord, Three things I pray. To see thee more clearly…Love thee more dearly…Follow thee more nearly… Day by day.”[iv]    

Amen.

Peace, Deb

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[i] Dawn Chesser, Preaching Helps for the Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, http://www.umcdiscipleship.org/

[ii] David Sellery, The Next Level, “The Week’s Focus,” www.davidsellery.org

[iii] David Sellery, The Next Level, “The Week’s Focus,” www.davidsellery.org

[iv] Prayer of Saint Richard of Chisester.

Sermon - Clearing the path to Jesus (Pentecost 18B)

18th Sunday After Pentecost - Year B                                                              September, 27, 2015

Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29 , James 5:13-20, Mark 9:38‑50              Patch Protestant Congregation

Preaching the Lectionary is helpful in so many ways. We can read through most of the major stories of scripture in a three year cycle and like today, exposing us to passages that we might be tempted to pass over as too hard or controversial.  But it can also give us a false sense that these short passages which can be read and contemplated in isolation from one another. Nothing could be farther from the truth. All the parts and pieces stand together as a complicated, beautifully woven tapestry of what it means to be a member of the Kingdom of God.

Today’s lessons are a great example, weaving together a coherent theme that reflects the challenges and joy of ministry in the world and in our own spiritual lives. The Old Testament lesson from Numbers and the gospel reading from Mark each show a portrait of dissatisfaction and misunderstanding of God’s plan for us. And the reading from James reminds us of the solution to our problems, prayer for and service to those in need. But we're going to focus on this interesting and disturbing lesson that Jesus is trying to teach.

For the past several weeks we have watched the disciples follow Jesus around as they try to figure out what it means to be a disciple. And it has become abundantly clear that they continue to define the Kingdom of God in very narrow ways. They have missed the major message of Jesus' coming... that the world order has been redefined and all expectations for behavior and future endeavor have been reassessed.

A passage like this is really a nightmare for preachers. It contains enough material for at least four morning sermons, or one really rip rousing revival message, where everyone would expect to be here for a while. I promise not to do that to you all today. But let me a least give a shot at summarizing the main points of Jesus' encounter with disciples, and why they (and we) struggle with what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ.

Last week's controversy involved the disciples' need to be "number one." This week, they encounter people who are healing in the name of Jesus, and they want it stopped, because they have not given them the authority to be doing such things. But Jesus explains to them why their thinking is backwards. "These people are not our enemies, nor are they God's enemies, for whoever is not against us is for us,” and I think implied in that is “And we need all the help we can get."

How many times have we encountered someone who "stepped in on our territory"? It feels like they are not only stealing our opportunity for service, but also the glory that goes along with it. It was as if the disciples were saying, "You are not an authorized dealer of Jesus’ message, so go away." But Jesus reminds them that they do not control the ministry of God. They do not get to define what it a good deed and what is not. Jesus declares that God's work done in his name is to be honored, not scrutinized for credentials. Jesus' principle is to include, not exclude."[i] Even simple acts will not go unrewarded. Every act of kindness matters.

And then comes this tricky “stumbling block” part of the passage. The penalty for getting in the way of someone’s journey in the Kingdom is high. Jesus tells us our first concern must be keeping the path clear for anyone and everyone to get to him. And we are asked to go to terrifying extremes to keep ourselves from pulling others off the path.

I like to think of this as Jesus’ way of helping his followers in making a course correction. Jesus calls us to see and welcome and love others, even if they are not like us and not a part of our particular tribe or denomination or flavor of Christianity. He reminds us that our saltiness – the contribution we make to the world that gives it flavor and brings a word of grace – is a gift we can only bring if we are willing to live at peace with one another.[ii]

 The events of the world make this passage really come alive for me. The refugee crisis in the Middle East, and now in Europe, tells the stories of families and individuals who are literally running for their lives. And when they hear that there is even a small possibility that someone might be willing to help them, people have shown that they will do almost anything to begin again. And I think as much as we want to help, that makes us afraid.

I’ve been trying to analyze what that fear is about. I think there is fear of people we don’t know… People who dress differently and maybe worship differently – they seem to us as “other,” not one of us. I that that fear is also about sharing our resources. Some of us are happy to go through our closets and cabinets to give away things which are no longer necessary to us, but when it comes to parting with our money, or donating things which we think we need, we are at best cautious, and maybe even unwilling to pitch in to help. I think that we are also afraid that their presence will change us, or make our part of the story less than what we have imagined it to be.

But their story is also our story. We forget that the Christian story, in fact the whole story of God’s followers, is a story of people on the run. From the Hebrew Bible stories of Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Ruth and Moses, and the ministry of Jesus, the disciples and Paul, we see again and again evidence that God’s people have always been on the move.

The disciples here are fully invested in their experience of Jesus and their experience alone. We can be just like them, defining what it means to be Christian and then casting away anyone who doesn’t agree with us, down to the most minute detail. If we’re not careful, we make the Church nothing more than an exclusive club with elaborate initiation rituals and codes of behavior. But that is not the gospel.[iii]

I’ve been watching the coverage of Pope Francis’ visit to the United States this week. He’s quite the media darling. And people on opposite sides of the political and religious spectrums have dissected his speeches, prayers and sermons, plucking out quotes which defend their own particular beliefs and interpretations. But the speeches stand on their own, as a whole. Perhaps the thing I appreciate the most is how eloquently he has articulated that some things in our lives must be held in tension with one another.

This week I have seem so many reflections of what it means to open up the Kingdom… in a police officer who goes into the subsidized housing neighborhoods of his patrol after hours with juice boxes and snacks to sit with kids in a local playground and share about their days… in the actions of Pope Francis as he welcomed children and others who his security detail tried to keep away… in the multi-faith service at Ground Zero in New York City… in the gathering of donations in our own communities for those who are living in migration centers as the German government and local churches seek to offer shelter and hospitality to those who have such great need.

And some needs are even closer to home. I think we can all agree that offering leadership to the children among us is of great importance. And we have a pool of dedicated volunteers who have poured their spirit and their soul into this ministry. But to be blunt, we need more adult people to help out. The current Army regulations are difficult and annoying, but we get to choose whether or not it keeps us from doing something important, something eternal. And the only tool we have to combat them is more vetted volunteers.

I know what some of you are thinking. You’re thinking that you don’t know enough about the bible to teach it to children. You’re thinking that you just want to spend an hour in church taking care of your own spirituality. You’re thinking that living in Europe provides such great opportunities for travel, you don’t want to pin yourself down to a volunteer job on the weekends. Or maybe you’re thinking that you want to be able to skip church whenever you want.

I know that’s what you’re thinking because that’s what I’m thinking, and those are just the ones I’m willing to share.

But here’s the problem with all of those arguments. They are about “me”. Maybe the stumbling block is not just about what we do to get in the way, but also about what we don’t do. And maybe Jesus’ definition about hell is not about ending up in a particular place of physical pain, but living outside of the presence of God, in this life and in the life to come. Jesus didn’t just say, “Let the children come to me.” He also said, “Don’t get in the way.” These days I wonder if not volunteering is what’s really getting in the way of the Kingdom of God.

In my first appointment as a relocated military spouse, I served a church in Alton, Illinois. Our congregation became a part of a network of churches trying to meet a particular need, and stepping pretty far outside their comfort zone in the process.

The Temporary Lodging Center was initially described as a homeless ministry... as Madison County's answer to a homeless shelter for families with children. But eventually we started thinking of doing more than just providing shelter. We talked about it as our ministry of hospitality. And it totally changed the way we understood what we were doing. This wasn’t a passive handout. Instead, it became an expression of our faith as individuals and as a congregation.

Instead of preparing a meal for a few and serving it in a stark setting, we started thinking of the families as guests in our homes. We shared a meal around the same table. We had conversation. We played games with their children. As they prepared to settle in, we made sure they had what they needed for a comfortable night’s sleep. We stayed the night with them, sometimes rocking crying babies so that moms and dads could get a good night’s sleep. We prepared breakfast for them and helped them get out to work or wherever they needed to go for the day. And each night for a week, every ten weeks, we repeated the same rituals, making connections along the way.

Gradually, we understood that the TLC was a ministry of presence, not conversion. Judgement about circumstance was put aside. What we shared was concrete... shelter from the cold, a warm and hopefully friendly meal, and safety from the street. What we gained was immeasurable, as we were able to share a little of ourselves in order to help a family in need. Sometimes it seemed our efforts were not appreciated. But more times than not, our volunteers came away with a greater appreciated for the realities of the world and the blessings we have to share.

The task that Jesus gives us is difficult, and often we don’t know where to begin. Rather than getting caught up in the things that make us different, Jesus asks us to think about the ways that we are the same… people who need the Lord.

I close with the quote from Jorge Mario Bergoglio, Pope Francis, our brother in Christ:

We need to avoid a common temptation nowadays: to discard whatever proves troublesome. Let us remember the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (Mt 7:12)… This Rule points us in a clear direction. Let us treat others with the same passion and compassion with which we want to be treated. Let us seek for others the same possibilities which we seek for ourselves. Let us help others to grow, as we would like to be helped ourselves. In a word, if we want security, let us give security; if we want life, let us give life; if we want opportunities, let us provide opportunities. The yardstick we use for others will be the yardstick which time will use for us.[iv]

 

In the name of the Holy Trinity.  Amen.

Peace in Christ, 

Deb

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[i] Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary ‑ Year B ‑ After Pentecost 2, 1993, pages 65‑66.

[ii] Dawn Chesser, Discipleship Ministries of the UMC, September 27, 2015, http://www.umcdiscipleship.org/worship/lectionary-calendar/eighteenth-sunday-after-pentecost3#preaching

[iii] Robb McCoy & Eric Fistler, Pupit Fiction Podcast #134. Show Notes for Proper 21B http://www.pulpitfiction.us/show-notes

[iv] Pope Francis, Speech to US Congress, September 24, 2015. http://politics.blog.ajc.com/2015/09/24/read-the-full-text-of-pope-francis-speech-to-congress/

With help from This Week’s Focus by The Reverend David F. Sellery http://us6.campaign-archive2.com/?u=dbffd2070718c7bb6a1b9b7e0&id=5c4e2b6c43&e=ff815e8710  and 

Sermon - The easy hard thing. (Pentecost 13B)..

13^th Sunday after Pentecost – Year B                                               August 23, 2015

John6:56-69; Ephesians 6:10-20                                                      Panzer Liturgical Service

Before we started the sermon, I had some of the children pass around baskets of crusty German pretzels... I figured that if we were going to talk about bread one more time, it we might as well have a little snack.

Let’s talk about bread.

Bread holds a special place in most societies. In Germany, it’s the pretzel.. or bretzel… or laugenbretzel as we know it in Baden Wurttemberg. For most people around here, the day is really not complete without it. In Italy, it’s focaccia, in France - the croissant or maybe a baguette, in some places it’s naan or pita, in Mexico it’s the tortilla. In the US – well, we never met a bread we didn’t like.

And it’s not just that bread is a staple in our diet. It goes much deeper than that. Bread gives us comfort and hope for a new day.  It’s been that way for a long time.

When the Israelites were wandering on their circuitous journey to the Promised Land, God instructed them not to take any bread with them – it would be provided on the way. Manna came down from heaven and gave them all the nutrition they needed. They were given exactly what they needed, and if they tried to store some for later in the day, it was spoiled before they could eat it. Through this process, God was teaching them trust – they were dependent on God for what they needed.  And it was a lesson they got, at least for a little while. Until they forgot.

This story about manna reminds us that we are also dependent on God for what we need, even though we often confuse “wants” with “needs”. Most of us live with pantries full of food, taking our next meal for granted. But there are those in the world for whom daily food is not a given, but an answer to prayer… and the faithfulness of those who have enough to share.[i]

This is the fifth week in a row that we have heard from the sixth chapter of John. Five weeks for us to think of Jesus in the context of being bread from heaven. Five weeks – 10% of our lectionary year – and each week, we see the people wrestling with their discomfort of what Jesus is asking them to believe about him.

This week’s gospel lesson actually starts with the last three verses from last week’s lesson.  They are jarring, difficult and puzzling verses… beginning with the idea of eating and drinking the flesh and blood of Jesus, and ending with the promise of eternal life. According to Jewish law, these verses are actually the antithesis of what would bring eternal life. Coming in contact with flesh and blood makes one unclean, with elaborate rituals required to become clean again. For Jews of the day, Jesus’ words are crazy.

And in the grumbling surrounding him, true character is revealed. The ones falling away remind us of what we already know. That following Jesus is easy when it doesn’t require us to change the way we act or think. But when our preconceived ideas about who Jesus is and what he wants from us are challenged, then we grumble and turn away, just like some of his followers did.

Since the third chapter of John, we have watched Jesus do some pretty amazing, even unbelievable, things.  People followed him for miles, enticed by the loaves and fishes. They had been awed by the miracles and fascinated by his understanding of the law and the prophets. But like us, they had their own ideas of what the Messiah should be. They were expecting a big show… just not the kind of show in which Jesus was asking them to participate.[ii]

As time goes on, we see that they often didn’t get the big picture of Jesus’ ministry. They were looking for a different kind of Messiah – we’ve talked about this before. They were expecting a warrior, a ruler, a king. What they got was a homeless peasant/teacher, who spoke of himself in terms that were unthinkable to most. “I am the bread of life” and “I am the living water” paint a much different picture of our Savior.  Jesus’ identity was not then and is not now about fulfilling people’s long-awaited expectations. Jesus isn’t about grabbing power. Instead he identifies himself with the very things that give us life… bread and water… without their sustenance we will surely die. He relates to the least important people around him, and calls them friends.

Like the disciples, we want Jesus to fit a rational formula. We want faith to be easy or comfortable – at least I do. But Peter reminds us, that sooner or later, we have to be willing to have our minds and hearts be changed. We have to come to an understanding that following Jesus is hard, but in faith we realize there’s nowhere else for us to go. Following Jesus and growing our faith in him is the only way we’re going to have a piece of this thing he calls “eternal life.” And then it will be the easiest hard thing we’ve ever done.

In our epistle lesson, Paul writes to a church surrounded by those who do not believe in Jesus, his ministry or his church. He reminds them that they do not battle the skeptics or those who would destroy them alone. He redefines their armor, evoking images of battle protection with the foundations of a faithful life – truth, righteousness, prayer, peace, Spirit, scripture – this is where we should be investing our time and our actions. We want there to be simpler answers to the questions we have. But really, only the weapons will truly defeat evil, in whatever forms it presents itself in our lives and in the world. 

And to end the passage, Paul asks for prayer. He believes that we should pray for everything – for the needs of our lives, for those around us, and for all the saints who have fought the same battles we fight. He’s not talking about prayer as a way to get what we want. He’s talking about prayer to face the difficult challenges that a faithful life will present to us. He’s talking about something that gives us the strength and joy to the hard thing well and in the spirit of love.

Paul refers to his own incarceration, which he rightly believes will end his life. But in that, he is reminding them that God is bigger than any of our struggles. God can make good come from the difficult experiences of our lives. God can turn the memory of the darkest day into one filled with hope for a new day.

This was certainly true for the disciples as they regrouped to follow Jesus, and then later abandoned him to face his arrest and execution mostly alone. And still the resurrected Jesus came to them. What good news for us that the resurrection did not depend on the faithfulness of the followers, but on the faithfulness of the God who has and will keep the promises made since the beginning of time.

I have this friend.  She’s an ordinary, middle-class white American woman. She’s a former military spouse, and until just before I met her, the mother of two towheaded preschool boys. One day, she felt God calling her to adopt a child from Africa. After sharing this with her husband, and her friends, and her church, they began the process to bring a child from Ethiopia into their family – simple, right? Except that, with God, nothing is really simple. After all was said and done, they brought three children home – a girl about the same age as their boys, and an older girl and boy.

Now they weren’t just dealing with the differences in race and culture – now they were the parents of pre-teenagers.  My friend kept saying that God’s dream for her family was so much bigger than she ever imagined. But she just kept trusting.

Through all of this joy and struggle, adjustment and turmoil, she realized that God was continuing to call her to a life she never imagined. So with five children between the ages of 5 and 12, she started the process to become an ordained minister in the United Methodist church. Today she works as one of the pastors at a growing church in Metropolitan Washington DC, and in December will graduate from Wesley Theological Seminary with a Masters of Divinity, one step closer to ordination.

She says that most days she is able to understand that her life has taken a totally different direction than she imagined or intended. But on Saturday nights when she is laying out the clothes for church the next day, at least one of her children will ask, “Mom, do you have to go to work tomorrow?” And she wonders if any of us ever fully understand what Jesus is asking us to do.

It’s my guess, that if you met her, you might ask her if the choices she has made over the last ten years have been worth it, or if it as hard or harder than she thought it would be. And here’s what I think her answer would be… it was the easiest hard thing I’ve ever done. But without the prayer and the support and questions of those who are walking this journey with me, it would have never happened.

And when you look back over your life, I hope that you can see the places where the whole armor of God helped you in ways you never imagined – to get back on the journey and once again follow where Jesus has called, even if you thought it was a place you’d never go. I have missed many opportunities to be the best reflection of Christ in the world, but some days I get it. I can see all the places where doing the hard thing – of following Christ in prayer, in faith, and in supplication – was the easiest and only choice I have.

For many of us, life is getting ready to gear up. School is starting, committees and organizations that we are a part of are making a plan and ready to carry it out. Maybe we’ve just moved here, or are getting ready to start something totally new. I pray that in our new routines we will not forget to rely on and sharpen our battle skills.

Remember that pretzel I gave you to eat at the beginning of the sermon? It is my hope that prayer, worship, bible study, Christian conversation and friendship will become like bread for you – giving you strength and comfort and securing the foundation you need to live a faithful life.

And so I send you into the world – to find the easy, hard thing – and do it.  Amen.

Peace, Deb

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[i] Kathleen Thomas Paisley, Preaching Helps from Discipleship Ministries, 8/17/15

[ii] David F. Sellery, “Discovering Jesus,” This Week’s Focus, 8/21/15

Sermon - It begins with grace (Pentecost 8B)

July 19, 2015                            Mark 6:30-34, 53-56 & Ephesians 2:11-22

I’m a big fan of the NBC Nightly News. And since it comes on here when I am already in bed, I start my day by watching the previous night’s news with my morning coffee or tea. Lately, I’ve been thinking about skipping it (the news, not my coffee) altogether, because of the 6-8 stories reported, most of them bring bad news. Stories of violence often lead off – shootings, violence again women and children, terrorism warnings – it’s hard to watch long enough to get to the “feel good” story that comes at the end. Again and again, I find myself asking, “When did compassion become the exception, rather than the rule?”

This week’s lessons, especially the Epistle and the Gospel, speak to this question. The gospel lesson, two travel tales, are bookends to two of Jesus’ most well-known miracles, the feeding of the 5000 and Jesus walking on water to the boat full of frightened disciples.

The each travelogue begins in the same way. Jesus realizes that his reputation is spreading throughout the region, and people are coming from far and wide, not just to see him in person, or to hear him speak, but because they want something from him. They want healing. They want wholeness. They want to be touched by Jesus.

And at certain points, Jesus realizes that they need to just get away – to rest, recover and do a little self-care. It’s a great lesson for all of us, but one that it increasingly difficult to achieve in our “do more with less” work and world. And I bet there will be many sermons preached this morning on how important it is to take care of yourself. And it is. So here me when I say, “Friends, take care of yourselves and your families so that you can better serve the Kingdom of God.”

But I’m not content to stop there. Because in the stories we have before us, Jesus and his disciples never really got the opportunity to totally shut down. In the first story, the disciples have just returned from their mission trip in Jesus’ name. They were sent out to spread the good news of the Kingdom of God, and to heal sickness and cast out demons. In addition, they have just received the news of the death of John, Jesus’ cousin and the one who initiated Jesus’ ministry with baptism in the Jordan River. This was devastating news and between the two events, it is no wonder that they would want to take some time out and regroup.

But when they got to the deserted place on the other side of the lake, it wasn’t really deserted after all. The crowd had figured out where they were going and beat them there. And in his compassion, Jesus spoke to them, teaching them about the God’s kingdom. As the time grew late, the disciples encouraged Jesus to send the people home to find themselves something to eat. Instead, Jesus took a young boy’s offering, five loaves of bread and two fish, and fed the multitude, with over 12 baskets of scraps left over.

Afterward, they tried again to get away, this time to Bethsaida, for a little R&R – rest and recovery. Jesus sent the boat ahead while he went to the mountain to pray. When he was done, he saw that the disciples straining against a strong storm that had pop up on the lake. So he walked out to them, which apparently frightened them beyond belief. Imagine their further surprise when the storm called immediately upon his getting in the boat. What a confusing turn of events.

In the end, they landed in a different place than for which they set out - Gennesaret, rather than Bethsaida - where again the people pressed in to see and touch Jesus. Everywhere they went, people came bringing their sick friends and relations, all in hopes that Jesus could do for them when he had done for others – bring wholeness in compassion and love.

Paul also addresses this need for compassion and love – not in the realm of physical healing, but in the mending of relationships between Jewish and Gentile Christians. He reminds the church in Ephesus, which had a lot of Gentile Christians, that their relationships are not defined by their differences, but by the One who unites them, in love. From Eugene Peterson’s The Message:

The Messiah has made things up between us so that we’re now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody. (Ephesians 2:14-15 The Message)

That’s the world I want to live in. A world where the differences between us do not define how our relationships will be lived out. Race, gender, sexuality, nationality, religious orientation, politics... these are the arbitrary boundaries that help us find people with whom we are comfortable... people who are more like us than they are not… people who don't frighten us or make us feel good about ourselves.  And we struggle daily, not just to open our hands and hearts to others who are different from us, but to see that they even need to be opened in the first place.  

The reading from Ephesians speaks of reconciliation with and access to God bought at a great price.  We are all strangers and aliens to God, at the same time that we are citizens and members of the household of God. Jesus’ wanderings among people of great need, often dragging his clueless disciples along, should teach us that we are called to live a life of availability, often going against the flow of public opinion and knowing that Christ calls us to live lives worthy of the sacrifice made on our behalf.

I’ve read a lot of really good commentaries and sermons in preparation for this week’s sermon, and usually I pepper my sermon with quotes from the biblical scholars and preachers I follow most closely. But this week I’m going to tell three short stories of compassion, forgiveness and becoming one that make me think that it’s truly possible for us to become the people that Christ called us to be.

Nine years ago, the world stood still as word came of a shooting at an Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, PA. A distraught father and husband entered that one-room school and shot 10 school-aged girls. Five died. Five were severely wounded. That could have been the end of good relationships between the Amish and their English neighbors. But it wasn’t. Lead by their intense Christian training, the Amish modeled what it meant to be part of the family of God.

Within hours of the shooting, they visited the family of the shooter, offering their condolences on the death of their husband, father, & son. They attended the gunman’s funeral, provided food for the family, and offered sincere words of forgiveness. They received the gifts that were offered from the community and the world – gifts of millions of dollars – not because they believed they needed or deserved them, but because they did not want to take away someone else’s need to be generous and make a difference. And they made sure that the gunman’s family had access to these funds, because they believed it wasn’t fair that they benefit any more that the other family because everyone was equally a victim of violence.[i]

And the world asked, “How do they do it?”

A month ago when I was in South Carolina, a breaking news report came across the TV screen. There had been a shooting at a historic black church in Charleston – Mother Emmanuel AME Church – and nine people were reported dead, including the pastor who was also a state senator. I admit that as I went to bed that night I wondered if we would wake to more reports of violence between blacks and whites as we had seen in Ferguson, Chicago, New York and Baltimore. But instead I woke to see a peaceful arrest of the presumed shooter, his return to Charleston that day, and a press conference by family members stating that they had already forgiven the shooter of his deadly deed. I could quote many of them here, but their ultimate message was this – if you intended to start a race war here, you have come to the wrong place and the wrong people. We will only answer with love.

And the world asked, “How do they do it?”

Within weeks the Nickel Mines shooting, the Amish and English communities worked together to tear down the old schoolhouse and built a new one closeby. Four days after the shooting at Mother Emmanuel, a line of people packed the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge, stretching more than two miles from the town of Mount Pleasant to the city of Charleston. Observers on the bridge, and thousands more at the base, joined hands to create a "unity chain," then held a moment of silence that lasted five minutes in honor of the fallen.[ii]

We need to pay attention to this question “How do they do it?” The Amish responded to that question with this answer, “Refusing to forgive is not an option – it’s just a normal part of our living.”[iii] For them, forgiveness lives at the foundation of what it means to be a Christian. It is the bedrock on which community grows.

In South Carolina, the shooting sparked a larger conversation about race and community. It accomplished something that religious and community leaders had been working toward for decades. Yes, there has been some backlash from the events of the last month – at least 3 SC black churches and 5 others in surrounding states have been burned to the ground, but it looks like love will prevail, even outside the Christian community.

Muslim friends through a crowdsourced fundraising site have raised $92,000 in just 10 days to help rebuild black churches as a part of their Ramadan observance, stating

We want for others what we want for ourselves: the right to worship without intimidation, the right to safety, and the right to property. We must always keep in mind that the Muslim community and the black community are not different communities. We are profoundly integrated in many ways, in our overlapping identities and in our relationship to this great and complicated country. We are connected to Black churches through our extended families, our friends and teachers, and our intertwined histories and convergent present. Too often cowards inflict us with a crippling fear, but with encouragement and support from likely and unlikely places fear cannot stop us.[iv]

I think that’s exactly what Paul was talking about. And still we ask, “But how can I step outside my comfort zone and do something like that?”

Two weeks ago, our teen-aged nieces came to spend 12 days with us. We toured together and cooked together and swam together and just enjoyed being together. And just when I thought that they would get tired of hanging out with their boring old aunt and uncle, there was a knock on the door. Our neighbor’s 14-year old daughter came to ask them to walk to the park with her and a friend. And we let them, worrying all the time if we had done the right thing. And as teenagers will, they exchanged What’s App and Facebook information, and messaged each other throughout the week. On Friday night they went together to the town pool party, and said fond goodbyes as the girls prepared to leave last week.

And when I thanked Selina for including them in her activities, she responded by saying, “I just thought about what I would like someone to do for me, and I did it.”

And if that’s not the gospel in a nutshell, I don’t know what it is. So here’s my charge to you: Let’s act as if we believe Paul’s words - “for we are no longer strangers and aliens, but are members together of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19 NRSV). 

And love will come. It all begins with grace. Amen.

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[i] Kraybill, Nolt & Weaver-Zercher: Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy – pages 46-7.

[ii] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/21/charelston-shooting-bridg_n_7633190.html

[iii] Amish Grace – page 49.

[iv]https://www.launchgood.com/project/respond_with_love_rebuild_black_churches_support_victims_of_arson_across_the_south#