Saying Thank You - November 20, 2011

Saying Thank You

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

November 29, 2011

                                                                                                Text:  Luke 17:11-19

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.  ¹²As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, ¹³they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”  ¹⁴When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean.  ¹⁵Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice.  ¹⁶He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.  ¹⁷Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?  ¹⁸Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”  ¹⁹Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

I suspect we would all agree that it’s important to say thank you.  It’s difficult, however, to find an adequate way to express appreciation when you recognize a great debt that you owe to another.  Billy Collins wrote a poem about this.  He is one of my favorite poets because he can take those every day, ordinary experiences that are shared by many and bring them to life.  He wrote this poem about saying thank you to his mother.

The Lanyard

By Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

I don’t believe I ever made a lanyard for my mother or my father, but I can recall dozens of gifts I made as a child, like Billy Collins often out of boredom, in some class or Sunday School room, and then took home and proudly presented to my parents.  Keychains, Christmas ornaments, those turkeys you make by first tracing your hand and then coloring the feathers.  As a child, I probably thought that I had evened the score with my crude little thank you gifts.  It’s as I have gotten older that I have realized the enormous debt of gratitude I owe my parents for the ways they have shaped me, for all they’ve done for me.

In our story from Luke today, one leper returned to thank Jesus.  The other nine did exactly as Jesus had directed.  In keeping with Jewish custom, they went to show themselves to the priest like good Jewish, ex-lepers should do. 

I wonder if he had a mother who drilled into him the importance of writing thank you notes?  My mother always told me I should do that.  Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, but I can attest to how great it feels to receive one and to write one.  Is that the point of this story, that the leper was the only one who took time to say thank you?  Was he merely demonstrating polite social etiquette? 

Part of the answer may be found in the identity of this healed man.  He was a leper like the other nine.  But, he was different than the other nine lepers.  He was a Samaritan.  As a leper he was ritually unclean and, therefore, to be isolated, an object, no doubt, of revulsion and fear on the part of his neighbors.  And as a Samaritan he would have been seen even more as an outsider – and a despised one at that – at least to the more orthodox Jews of Galilee.  Perhaps for these reasons, the Samaritan leper suffered more and thus he felt a more profound gratitude when he was healed. 

We don’t really know why he came back.  But it seems that Luke is telling us something about the boundless nature of God’s grace as shown through Christ.  In Christ, Luke is saying, everyone, Jew and Gentile and even the despised Samaritan, is affirmed.  In Christ, the boundaries are expanded to include even those the world defines as unclean, foreign, or impure.  Luke is telling us a story about crossing a boundary in a bold, daring way; daring both on the part of Jesus and also on the part of the Samaritan. 

And when the Samaritan returned, Luke tells us that not only did he say thank you, but that he laid down at Jesus’ feet.  This intimate action seems to show that he not only felt obligated to say thank you, but that he had a sense that faith cannot simply mean the performance of rituals and practices.  There is something more.  Faith lures us into relationship with God that is healing because it is intimate and humbling.  The Samaritan leper knows that he is deeply and lovingly dependent on Jesus.

I dare say none of us has leprosy and yet, we are far from whole.  In his commentary on this text, John Thomas says:  “Part of the illness of life today and part of what leads to the sense of distance and isolation so many feel is a deeply ingrained feeling of entitlement, the notion that I am somehow entitled to things, that I owe no one anything and have no responsibility for anyone.  It is a deep self-centeredness that assumes everything is my right, my due, an attitude that replaces concern for the community with a preoccupation with my own needs.  It enables me to maintain my distance in the illusion of absolute independence.  Healed of illness, we wander off like the nine because, after all, we’re entitled to health.”

It seems that in our culture, dependency is a dirty word.  We value independence.  Dependence on another is a sign of weakness, of vulnerability.  Gratitude, saying thank you, in the end is an expression of our need of others, our need for God, our dependency on God.  In a few days, we will sit down at our Thanksgiving tables and perhaps say a quiet prayer before a meal.  That prayer is a way of acknowledging that our lives depend on God’s bounty, as well as on a host of people who contributed to the food on the table; those who grew, processed, distributed, prepared, and served the food that gives us nourishment and pleasure.  Saying a prayer by a hospital bed is an acknowledgment that our health rests in God’s love as well as the skills of physicians, nurses, medical scientists and a host of people who maintain these hospitals and places of care. 

And, yes, even sending a thank-you note, as mothers perhaps instinctively knew, is far more than etiquette, but an awareness that the best gifts and thus much of the joy of life are not things we can give ourselves.  They come from beyond us as generous expressions of love.  And each thank you becomes a way to practice gratitude so that more and more of our lives are weaned away from the myth of entitlement and the arrogance and isolation of independence.  Each thank you becomes a way to practice gratitude so that more and more of our lives are shaped by the truth of our belonging to others, even to Christ.

I believe the happiest and healthiest people I know are those whose say thank you over and over again, not just to God for the blessings of this day, but to everyone whose life touches theirs in a creative way.  Gratitude opens us to new blessings, but more importantly - gratitude opens our hands to bless others, with a kind word or a more significant investment of our time, talent, and treasure.

So, throughout this day and every day, say thank you.  Recognize independence for the illusion it is.  Resist the pull towards entitlement.  Remember those who have supported you.  Consider the blessed circumstances of your life about which you have become complacent.  Rejoice in the interconnected web of your life that heals and restores you.

Let us pray.  Teach us, O God, to practice gratitude in our lives that we may honor the graciousness at the center of your creation.  Forgive every form of self-centeredness that assumes we are entitled to what we have and make us mindful of every good gift and of every good gift-giver.  Renew us with your love and grant us the joy of your presence.  Amen. 

"Reachin' the Higher Ground" 11/13/11

The Healing Power of Faith

The Healing Power of Faith

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

November 13, 2011

They came to Jericho.  As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.  ⁴⁷When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  ⁴⁸Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”  ⁴⁹Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.”  ⁵⁰So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.  ⁵¹Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”  ⁵²Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.                              Mark 10:46-52

The past few weeks we’ve been exploring awareness and inclusion, both in the Bible and for our time.  Two weeks ago we talked about Jesus’ healing of a man who was deaf, then last week, Jen, embodied the “bent over” woman whom Jesus  also healed.  Today, Bartimaeus’ story provides our text and the fact that we can refer to it as “Bartimaeus’” story is the first unique aspect of this particular story.  This is the only healing text in which the person who is healed is identified by name.  We are told that he is Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. 

There are five different texts in the gospels that deal with Jesus healing someone who is blind.  Whenever sermons are preached on these texts, blindness itself almost always has some negative connotation.  (You know, “how are we blind; how do we refuse to see God’s direction for our lives?” or something like that.)  One way or another, blindness becomes the metaphor for our refusal to pay attention to what God wants for us.  Is it appropriate in a sermon to use the physical reality of some as a metaphor for the sinful behavior of others?  I don’t believe that it is.  So, today, this hour of worship includes only words and music that honor some very gifted people who also happen to be blind.  There will be no equating blindness, even metaphorically with living in some state of sin.  And thanks to the wonder of multi-media, people who are themselves blind, are representing themselves worship.  So we enjoy the images of artist John Bramblitt.  (These are his works shown on the screen during this sermon.)  We heard from The Blind Boys of Alabama, recipients of multiple Grammies.  The group was formed at the Alabama Institute of the Negro Blind in Talladega, Alabama in 1939.  Our prayer response and the choir’s anthem were written by Ken Medema, an amazing contemporary composer writing today.  “Amazing Grace,” which we will sing in a few moments is written by Fanny Crosby who was blind.  (And we’ll have another little surprise for the postlude.)

Though it was my intention not to include any metaphorical connections between blindness and sin, I’ll tell you right now, you’ll notice at least one exception to that, if you look closely.  “Amazing Grace,” includes the line, “I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”  I read this week of an African American clergywoman who has been on the cutting edge of justice issues, fighting for the rights of persons with disabilities.  She is blind herself and she was asked what she does with that line from “Amazing Grace.”  She said, “Oh, I just stand up and sing ‘was blind and still can’t see!’”

In Jesus’ day, persons who were blind were relegated to begging on the side of the road in order to survive.  We have come a long way.  Today, those who are blind can enjoy full lives.  There are limitations of course (a person who is blind cannot drive a car).  And certainly other factors can complicate the life of a person who is blind.  The educational process can be difficult.  Sometimes it’s more challenging to find a job.  Blind people are not unique in facing these challenges, of course, and there are so many programs and support services available today that persons who are blind in the United States can function very well.  (I met a woman the other day who is an audio describer at GEVA.  With the use of an earphone, she narrates the stage movements that a blind person cannot see that are important to the plot or just the general enjoyment of theatre.)

Trust is one of the major issues faced by persons who are blind.  They have no choice but to trust people around them – not just friends and family, but complete strangers.  They trust their coworkers not to move the furniture without telling them.  They trust that cashiers will give them correct change.  They trust that someone around will tell them which is a $5 bill, which are ones, and which are tens.  They trust the person who reads their mail to keep confidential things confidential.  Trusting others is not an option.  Relationships with others are crucial. 

Our text for today is the story of Bartimaeus.  His story takes place on the roadside.  We are told that Jesus and his followers have joined a large crowd on their way to Jerusalem.   Let me set the scene.  Our story opens with this crowd leaving Jericho.  It was common for people to travel in large groups, for safety reasons or companionship, so it would almost have looked like a parade.  Those who couldn’t make the journey would gather along the roadside to see the spectacle and to bid the travelers well.  The travelers and the well-wishers aren’t the only ones on the road.  Beggars always sat on the road because they wanted to be where the people were.  They would beg for alms to survive. 

Our story tells us that one particular beggar is named Bartimaeus.  He is blind, begs to survive, and spends his days by the roadside depending on others’ compassion.  He is literally pushed to the edge, the outer margins, due to his condition.  Being blind, Bartimaeus would first have heard the commotion, the murmurs spreading among the crowd, passed from person to person.  Jesus of Nazarth is coming!  Bartimaeus wouldn’t have known exactly how far away Jesus was, but he’s not taking.  Immediately he calls out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  He’s not one to sit back and feel sorry for himself or to wait for someone to approach him and offer help.  He takes the initiative in assertively seeking what he feels he needs. 

And what does the crowd do when Bartimaeus cries out?  They tell him to pipe down.  Somebody shut this guy up, it’s embarrassing.  He is just a beggar. Where does he get off drawing all this attention to himself.  Does he really expect to get Jesus’ attention??? 

Frankly, I see a lot of similarities today, do you?  We’re just a little more comfortable if persons who with a disability are invisible – out of sight, out of mind.  When it comes right down to it, we’re sympathetic, but we’d prefer if they kept quiet and passive rather than vocal and assertive.  After all, if they make noise, then it might require more of us than we’re willing to give.  Don’t make too big a fuss advocating for yourself.  “We’ll” help you if we can.

But Bartimaeus is not about to accept a passive role for himself.  He doesn’t ask for anyone’s pity but neither is he an invisible object by the roadside.  No.  He takes control of his life, ignoring those who are telling him to shut up, and cries out even louder:  “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 

Instead of ignoring Bartimaeus’ cry, Jesus stops in the middle of his journey and tells the people to inform Bartimaeus that he wants to talk to him.  The crowd wants to make Bartimaeus invisible, but with his action, Jesus makes him visible.  Jesus acknowledges his humanity and offers him respect. 

And do you notice what happens in the crowd when Jesus responds like this?  They change their tune pretty quick.  Take heart, dear Bartimaeus!  Get up, Jesus is calling you!  Such fond and encouraging words from the same crowd that moments before told Bartimaeus to shut up. 

In Jesus’ response to Bartimaeus we see a timeless truth:  sometimes is just takes one person to shift a situation.  Jesus models how to honor someone considered expendable by society and the entire mood is changed. 

Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, jumps up and goes to Jesus.  As a blind beggar, your cloak was pretty important not only to keep you warm, but it functioned as a first-century collection plate of sorts.  It was your livelihood.  Throwing it off was a bold act of trust and courage for Bartimaeus.  Once he throws it off, he might not find it again.  So, he risks almost everything, jumps up and goes to Jesus.  I wonder how he found him.  Did the crowd help him?  Did Jesus say, “I’m over here!” or offer some verbal cues so that Bartimaeus can find him?    

For perhaps the first time in his life, Bartimaeus is treated as a person in his own right who has the ability to make his own decisions.  Jesus says, “What do you want me to do for you?”  You might think, well, what does he think he wants?  But this is a very significant question.  With this question, Bartimaeus becomes a participant in his own healing.  He decides what would be healing for him when he says, “My teacher, let me see again.” 

Jesus speaks the words, “Go, your faith has made you well,” and Bartimaeus receives his sight.  What do you suppose Jesus meant with these words?  Was he referring to Bartimaeus’ stubbornness in not allowing himself to be silenced by the crowd?  Perhaps he meant Bartimaeus’ resiliency to meet his situation.  Maybe it was that Bartimaeus’ had faith that Jesus could heal him?  But, had Jesus really healed him.  According to Jesus, it was Bartimaeus’ faith that made the difference.

Though we can’t know with any certainty, we find at least two models for inclusion in this story, two important examples that remain so relevant today.  First, in Bartimaeus himself.  Here is a man who had lost his sight, but who had not his dream of the way he wanted his life to be.  Though condemned to the margins, he insisted on advocating for himself, putting himself at risk to reach out. 

And second, in Jesus.  Jesus takes the time to recognize and pay attention to this one man, this one outcast.  It would have been so much easier to simply wave to the crowd and go on his way.  There were miles to go to get to Jerusalem.  Who had time to find that one guy in the crowd yelling at him?  Instead, Jesus chooses to buck the social mores of the day and to seek Bartimaeus out. And then he asks him what he wants.  Too often, those in power make decisions for others who they feel are helpless or incapable of making their own decisions.  You know, that “us” and “them” mentality.  We decide what is best for them without even asking.  Jesus lets Bartimaeus decide for himself.  And when Jesus speaks to Bartimaeus face-to-face, he treats him with respect.  He allows him to decide for himself what he wants for his life. 

If those in power decide unilaterally what is best for others, though it may come from a good place, the result is to deny the other’s agency.  It’s so easy to decide what is best for another without even asking.  Jesus lets Bartimaeus decide for himself.  Jesus provides this model not only for serving others but also for treating “even the least of these” with respect and dignity. 

Treating all people with respect and dignity is a high calling.  It is an invitation that Jesus extended to that crowd so long ago and to us on this very day.   In Bartimaeus’ story, we find our own.  This church has made tremendous strides toward that “higher ground” of honoring the sanctity of each person, but we’re not quite there yet.  Like the Blind Boys of Alabama sang in our video, “People gotta keep on learnin.’  Teachers keep on teachin’, preachers keep on preachin’, Believers keep on believin’, ‘til we reach the higher ground,” together.

Amen.  So be it.

Precious, Gifted, Unique, Whole October 30, 2011

Precious, Gifted, Unique, Whole

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

October 30, 2011

                                                                        Text:  Mark 7:31-35

It might not surprise you that Rochester is considered one of the most deaf-friendly cities in the United States and for good reason.  We have one of the highest deaf populations per capita in the country.  Rochester is the birthplace of key historic events in deaf culture and just about every aspect of life is accessible for the deaf in our city.  We live right in the middle of this hotbed of deaf culture.  And still, there is so much I do not understand.

I can recall a couple of occasions in the last year or so when I encountered a group of deaf people, once at a nearby table at Panera and on another occasion, a group of college-aged deaf students late one night at, ahem, an adult drinking establishment.  On both occasions, they were having a great time from all appearances and I remember being surprised about something.  In my ignorance, I had assumed that a table of deaf friends would be pretty quiet, even if they were laughing and having a great time together (which they were.)  Let me clarify – they were having a great time together.  They were not quiet.  They actually generated a lot of noise, just like every other table full of friends laughing together.  It’s so interesting how our assumptions are challenged as we learn more.

We’re going to watch a clip from the 2001 film, Sound and Fury that also challenged my assumptions about deaf culture.  I had always assumed that if a deaf person had the option to be a hearing person, they would do so.  Not so.  For example, cochlear implants can significantly improve the hearing of some deaf people, however, it is controversial in the deaf community.  In the documentary Sound and Fury we meet a deaf family.  The adult daughter is the only hearing person in her family though she has just given birth to a deaf newborn.  Of course, deaf culture is a huge part of her family’s identity.  The beginning of the clip is at a picnic gathering of the deaf community and you’ll see a bit of the beauty of deaf culture and how they relate to each other.  But then, the adult daughter tells her mother that she and her husband have decided on a cochlear implant for their baby who is deaf.

(clip from Sound and Fury, 39:40-44:25)

Many within deaf culture see themselves as a cultural minority group sharing a common language, similar to Korean Americans or Mexican Americans.  They have their own language (American Sign Language), values, and customs that are integral to their culture.  They often reject the term “disability” in reference to their deafness because the term implies that there is something wrong that needs “fixing.” 

On the other hand, many within deaf culture are very interested in a cure for their hearing loss, particularly those who became hard of hearing later in life.  They have lost something precious, something they grew up taking for granted.  They miss what they used to have and go to great lengths to get back as much hearing as possible with hearing aids, cochlear implants, and other assistive listening devices. 

So, first of all, there is no shorthand, general way to talk about all people who have a hearing loss.  There are so many factors (age at which hearing loss occurs, the tremendous range of audiological differences, from mild hearing loss to profound deafness, the variety of linguistic preferences, the array of cultural orientations, and the decision to use one’s voice or not).  All these factors make deafness and hearing loss a very complex issue. 

These complexities are not only part of deaf culture today, but they are also a part of the narrative in Mark, chapter 7 in which Jesus heals a deaf man.  In the New Testament, this is the only text that tells the story of a person with deafness.  We begin reading in v. 31.

Then Jesus returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis.

The first thing we learn is that Jesus needs a better navigator.  As you can see from the map, anybody going from Tyre to Galilee would not go by way of Sidon.  Of course, the order of Mark’s gospel is based on piecing together various stories.  It’s not historical reporting, so these journeying verses are merely the transitions between the stories, not precise geographical account. 

They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him.

We do not know who “they” were and we have no indication if the deaf man requested to be brought to Jesus or not.

Jesus took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue.

This verse is somewhat controversial.  Why did Jesus isolate the deaf man from the crowd?  And next Jesus sticks his fingers in the man’s ears and touches his tongue with spittle.  These actions are considered invasive by some, particularly since there’s no indication that the man asked for healing or granted permission.  Remember those who had brought the man to Jesus asked that Jesus “lay his hand” on him, a much less invasive gesture.  Mark’s narrative tells us that Jesus did otherwise.

Jesus’ use of spittle is significant in another way.  Saliva was considered a bodily excretion that could cause a person to be ritually unclean according to Jewish tradition.  But here Jesus challenges the purity codes.  Instead of Jesus becoming unclean by his actions, the man is later healed.  In fact, this method of using spittle was adopted by the early church as part of the baptismal rite.  “The bishop or presiding officer conducting the baptism would spit on his fingers, then touch them to the candidate’s ears, eyes, and mouth, symbolizing the person’s new ability to hear the Gospel and witness to his or her faith.”  (Don’t worry, we don’t do that anymore!)

Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.”

Why did Jesus sigh?  What was Mark trying to communicate here?  The traditional interpretation has been that Jesus’ sigh indicated some struggle with evil forces.  Underneath that interpretation is an ingrained bias, that the man’s deafness must have something to do with evil.  But the text itself doesn’t really support that connection.  This story does not explicitly connect deafness and what they understood as demon possession. 

This is the only place in the entire Bible that the Aramaic word ephphatha is found.  As the text says, it means “be opened.”  It conjures up magical phrases like “Open sesame,” or “abracadabra,” conveying a sense of magical power.  And Jesus says this clearly not for the benefit of the man who cannot hear him.  Is it for the crowd?  Is Mark trying to portray Jesus with magical, mystical powers?

And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.

Immediately, the man is cured and can speak plainly.  And part of Isaiah’s prophecy of the coming day when “the ears of the deaf” will be “unstopped,” is fulfilled.  (Isaiah 35:5)  Mark is telling us that this prophecy is fulfilled in Jesus.

Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.

It’s typical in Mark’s gospel for Jesus to tell people not to speak about what they have seen and it’s typical for the people to go ahead and speak about it anyway.  It’s particularly curious in this text because the man has just received the ability to speak clearly and then Jesus tells him to be silent. 

They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

Here Mark is pointing to Jesus’ identity as Messiah.  Mark is building suspense toward the next chapter, chapter 8, in which Peter confesses to Jesus, “You are the messiah.”  Mark is laying a bit of groundwork for that.

What are some of the traditional ways this story has been understood?  Some have said the man could not come to faith on his own because he could not hear and faith comes by hearing.  Others have said the deaf man needed to have faith in order to be healed.  Scholars debate the finer points of that interpretation.  This notion that hearing is required for faith comes in part from Romans 10:17:  So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ.  In the Protestant Reformation, Martin Luther expounded on this:  “God no longer requires the feet or the hands or any other member;  God requires only the ears…The ears alone are the organs of a Christian man.” 

It is this notion that hearing is required for faith that makes this text potentially destructive for those in the deaf community.  Of course, today it should seem obvious that hearing is not necessary for faith, but if you look closely, preachers and worship liturgy often continue to perpetuate these hurtful concepts.

We often use language of deafness to indict those who refuse to pay attention to or intentionally ignore the call of God or the cries of those in need or those who refuse to work for justice.  Surely that message can be communicated without using “deafness” or “muteness” to describe the condition of not being attentive to God’s call.  In other words, it is not sensitive or appropriate to use words that identify the physical reality of some to describe the sinful behavior of others.

Perhaps this story can function to hold up a mirror to us -  to the ways we presume to know the needs of others, the ways we ostracize those who are not physically considered “up to par” with societal standards.  We isolate people because of who they are, not always by what they do.  Maybe you identify with those who have been rejected or perhaps you see yourself as part of the privileged class who decides the boundaries and does the ostracizing.   Whatever your context, this story invites you to consider:  what does the healing touch of Jesus mean to you?   

What can we do to better understand people who are deaf or have a hearing loss?  We can work toward recognizing all people as precious, gifted, unique, whole, created by God – just exactly as they are. 

Amen.

October 16, 2011 Generosity Changes Everything

Generosity Changes Everything

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

October 16, 2011

                                                                                                                                                Galatians 5:1, 22-23

If you’ve been paying attention at all, then by now you’ve probably wised up that we are talking about generosity – or according to our scripture, “the spiritual gift” of generosity.   I can recall many sermons that I’ve preached about the spiritual gifts of love or joy or peace or patience.  But I’m not sure I’ve ever preached a sermon on generosity as a spiritual practice.

Like many churches, we don’t really talk a lot about money.  We give a fair amount of attention to how we spend the money we have.  On the committee level and the board level we carefully prepare our budget each year and we take responsibility to give thoughtful attention to being good stewards of the money we have to work with.  But I notice sort of an unspoken agreement that we shouldn’t talk too much about the very question the young woman on the video posed to Suze Orman – how much should we give?  

I think there are a variety of reasons why we tend to be silent about this.  We don’t want to be one of those churches that talks about it all the time.  We don’t want people to feel any pressure to give.  Some of us have had unpleasant experiences in the past with church leaders using high pressure techniques carefully designed to manipulate or coerce people.  The result of our discomfort with that is that we almost completely ignore the topic that Jesus spent much of his time talking about – money; specifically how we relate to our money.  And by ignoring the topic of generous giving, we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to come to know the transformational power that giving can have in our lives.

I’ll give you a specific way that we’ve show our discomfort with talking about giving.  Our church is somewhat unique in that we steadily have added new members.  I’ve been your pastor for almost 10 years now.  (Raise your hand if I am the only pastor you’ve known at this church?)  I always talk personally with folks who express an interest in joining.  There’s one question that I am most often asked at these meetings – I really like this church and I want to support it, but how much am I expected to give to the church?  And this is what I have always said, “That is entirely up to you and God.  In our church no one knows how much you pledge or if you give at all.  So prayerfully consider what you think you can give.”  I have come to consider that answer to be completely inadequate. 

We talk a lot about practices that can bring you closer to God, things like prayer, Bible study, service.  Likewise, stewardship is a personal spiritual practice that transforms us into more god-like people.  Generosity changes everything in our lives.  Churches are in the business of changing lives.  We are invested in forming particular kinds of people with particular values and behaviors.  Surely generosity in spirit and with money are at the very heart of that endeavor.  Stewardship is about inviting each and every person to grow in the spiritual practice of generosity, of giving, of sharing.  It is about creating a culture of giving in the midst of an often anxious and fearful world.  One of the core ways that church can change the lives of its members for the better is to help people become more trusting, generous, and giving.  These are spiritual practices that express our sense of who we are as individuals and how we exist in the world.  Our giving reflects who each of us thinks God is, whether we can trust God and whether we are able to give and commit ourselves to purposes and meanings larger than ourselves. 

And so stewardship is not something peripheral to be gotten through as quickly as possible.  Stewardship is not about meeting the budget as if it were a necessary evil.  Stewardship, how we relate to money, is right at the heart of changing lives.  I truly believe that there is not a single other aspect of our spiritual life that is more pivotal in our relationship with God and each other than this area of stewardship.

I say this from personal experience.  When I was growing up, church was a very important part of my family’s life.  We always attended worship.  We were active in Sunday School and fellowship groups.  Church mattered to us.  Something else about my family – I don’t recall a single conversation about financial giving to the church.  We never discussed how much or even if we should do it at all.  And so, I never thought about it.  I grew up, always going to church and I honestly don’t recall a single time I ever gave a penny to any church I was involved in.  It wasn’t a conscious decision not to give on my part.  It’s just that I never had much money and so when the stewardship drive rolled around, I thought they were talking to all the other people, not me.  Any amount I could give wouldn’t have made much difference.  In other words, I missed the point that cultivating a spiritual practice of generosity would change my life.

As I look back on it now, the result of this attitude about giving was that I viewed the church with a heavy emphasis on what it could do for me.  I was there to enjoy the people, to be inspired by the music, to feel closer to God.  There’s nothing wrong with any of these things, but some things were missing.

The years went on like this even through seminary.  The church that sponsored me for ordained ministry did so much to support me – scholarships, prayer, nurturing me – and I never even thought about the spiritual practice for me, of designating a portion of my income (as meager as it was at the time, springing from my four part time jobs) to the church.

And then, ten years ago, I came here as your pastor.  At first, I continued my past practice of giving (which meant I gave no money to our church).  I thought, I give through my ministry, through all the hours I spend.  In other words, I was still missing the point.  I was neglecting my own spiritual practice of cultivating generosity.

At some point, fairly early on I began to make a modest pledge, so much per week.  It wasn’t a lot, but I remember being excited about the novelty of it; the little box of envelopes.   I remember immediately feeling more deeply connected to this church and the work it was doing.  No longer was the budget something to view simply from a professional distance.  This was my church, not just the church where I worked.  This was my church and part of my money that in very small part contributed to this particular remarkable and unique community of faith that I love. 

But the most important change I recall, however, was how I felt about myself.  It’s a lot like Suze Orman described.  That first pledge wasn’t much, but it scared me a little bit.  I wondered what it would be like not to have that money that I had been used to.  Though it was scary, I never remember a single time of not having what I needed or even wanted.   So I increased a little bit every year. 

I noticed some changes in my life.  First, giving became a regular part of who I am.  This continues to grow.  It would be unthinkable for me not to make a pledge to this church.  Second, I have become much better at managing my money overall.  I keep better track of how I spend my money because it’s become so important to me to be able to give.  And my life is better for that.  And third, I feel more confident personally to bear witness about the power of giving.

I have come to be very intentional about my giving to this church and I’m going to do something today that I have never done before.  I’m going to share openly with you my process for determining the amount I give.  I am in a unique position in that my compensation is public.  Anyone here who wants to know what I make can simply pick up an annual report and take a look.  The amount that everyone gives is completely confidential in this church, however, I am free to disclose what I give and I’m going to do that. 

My purpose is not to brag, I know others give far more than I do.  My purpose is to communicate the principles behind why I give what I give and to share my process for determining how much I give.  And I share this with you because I am completely convinced of the transformational power of growing in generosity.

I give according to what is called a “modern tithe.”  I give at least 5% to our church’s operating budget and then I give an additional 5% to other causes that do God’s work in the world.  Here’s what that looks like for me:  my net compensation is $48,143.  For simplicity sake today, let’s round that to $48,000 a year.  A “modern tithe” says that 5% goes to the church.  I consider that specifically to be the church’s annual operating budget, the baseline salaries, utilities, property needs, etc.   We have a very “no frills” budget that pretty much just keeps the doors open.  So, for me that means I contribute $65 a week ($3380 annually) toward our church’s operating budget or about 7% of my income.  (Remember the modern tithe says a minimum of 5% and since I increase a bit every year, I’ve gotten higher than 5%.)

Next, according to the “modern tithe,” I designate another 5% to other causes that do God’s work in the world.  So, I give to odds and ends of organizations who I feel fit this category.  But the biggest piece of this for me, is an additional annual contribution to our capital campaign.  Having solid ground under our feet means that we need a roof over our heads and so I designate another 2% (about $1,000 a year) to our capital campaign. 

To summarize, my annual giving is based, not on what the budget increase might be for any given year.  The amount I give starts and ends with how much money I make.  Since I have made a commitment to myself and to God that I will share at least 10% of my income this is the breakdown, for me:  $48,000 annual income; 7% to church operating budget = $3,380 annually; 2% to church capital campaign $1,000; 2% to other charitable agencies.

This approach to giving has changed my life.  I am completely convinced that adopting a modern tithe has made me a better, more loving, stronger person.  For that reason, from now on, whenever people ask me, “What should I give to the church?” this will be my answer.

First, start with what you earn.  (I won’t ask them to tell me, of course.  This will be my input as their pasto on how they can determine what to give.)  Second, calculate what 5% would be.  Third, determine if you can give that amount.  We all are in different situations and, depending on your situation, that 5% may be completely unrealistic.  You may be tempted to say, “There’s no way I can do this,” and throw up your hands and do nothing.  It is my strong conviction that you will be better off if you choose a different response.  Set a generosity goal for yourself to work toward a modern tithe.  Calculate what 2% of your income would be and start there.  Then next year, move to 3%.  Then the next year, increase to 4% until you reach that 5% goal. 

And, of course, is something unforeseen happens in your life and your income drops, then your giving drops proportionately.  And in that situation, if things change for you it’s important to communicate the change to the financial secretary.  I am fully aware that these are anxious times.  There’s a lot of uncertainty about our economy, from global markets to right here in Rochester and what the future of Kodak might mean for its current employees as well as retired employees and their families.  When you think about giving in direct proportion to what you have, then it takes some of the pressure off.  If your situation changes and you make less, then you in turn give less.

Am I preaching this sermon because Community Christian Church needs more money?  No.  It’s because I am convinced of the transformational power of developing a spirit of generosity.  When you are more generous, you are more trusting.  And you are connected more deeply to the things you consider important.

This approach to giving may be new to a lot of you and some of you may have something you’d like to say in response.  The conversation will continue in our upcoming neighborhood meetings that you’ve been hearing about.  Please come and be a part of those conversations.  Lend your voice.  Know the importance of your input.

Generous financial giving is a vital part of life and faith.  Being good stewards of all that is entrusted to us, like other spiritual practices, has the potential to change us, to heal us, and to deepen our faith and our lives. 

Amen.