Sermons @ Community Christian Church

Lenten Series on Spiritual Practice: Hospitality 3/4/12

2012-03-05T09:30:00.000-08:00

Lenten Worship Series Week 2: Hospitality in a Multi-Faith World

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

March 4, 2012

When a stranger lives with you in your land, don’t take advantage of him. Treat the stranger the same as family. Love him like one of your own. Remember that you were once strangers in Egypt. I am God, your God. Leviticus 19:33-34

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Romans 12:9-13

(“Hospitality is Salvation” video by Diana Butler Bass. This short video may be viewed at theworkofthepeople.com.)

Prior to watching this video by Diana Butler Bass, if I were to have asked you the path to salvation, I wonder if many of us, including myself, would have said that the definition of salvation is hospitality. Salvation is loaded word for Christians. It conjures up the image of someone knocking on the door with little pamphlets asking if you’ve been “saved” (or does that only happen in Texas?) Among our conservative Christian friends, and perhaps for some here, salvation likely has something to do with going to heaven when we die.

But Diana Butler Bass reframes for us the concept of salvation. In his book, Speaking Christian: Why Christian Words Have Lost Their Meaning and Power and How They Can Be Restored, Marcus Borg argues that though we commonly associate salvation with what happens after we die, when the Bible speaks about salvation, it is seldom about an afterlife (p. 39). Salvation, as it is used in the Bible, is almost always about personal transformation of ourselves and of the world, right here, right now. And I think we all yearn for this kind of salvation.

Most of us yearn for personal transformation – for a fuller connection to what is, for liberation from all that keeps us in bondage, for wholeness, for the healing of our pain. And don’t we yearn for a world that is a better place? We may have disagreements about how a better world can be brought about. But most of yearn for a better world, for ourselves, our children and grandchildren for all the people who will come after us.

This yearning for transformation is shared between all the world’s major faith traditions. And this commonality is what I’d like to focus on today. How are Christians to practice hospitality in an interfaith world? How do Christians relate hospitably to people who follow other religious paths? If Diane Butler Bass is right and salvation is hospitality, then it is also true that the salvation of the church, of our faith, is in learning how to be hospitable.

The Bible can be described as having a grand progression of hospitality, of estrangement to welcome. There are certainly critical points in the narrative of our faith where welcoming the stranger turns out to be a real fork in the road. Abraham and Sarah, extending hospitality to the strangers who wind up being God’s representatives who have come to deliver the good news that a child will be given to them who will fulfill God’s promises to the Hebrew people.

And in the New Testament we find a parallel in the story of the Emmaus Road. Following the crucifixion, the broken-hearted disciples welcome a stranger to dinner and when the stranger breaks the bread, they realize that it is Jesus. He was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. Time and time again, our faith has survived because our forebears chose a path of hospitality and welcome, rather than exclusion and judgment.

In case you haven’t noticed, the future of mainstream Christianity, is up in the air. Millions of people across the world have rejected the faith we practice. Maybe you’re someone who has toyed with the idea of giving up on the church. There have been times in my life when I confess that I have. The form of Christianity that has been, too often, imperialistic, judgmental, and even violent has been rejected. And until Diana Butler Bass said it in today’s video, I never considered the widespread rejection of Christianity to be a hopeful sign but now I recognize it as one. That rejection shows that there is indeed a deep longing for a God of love and a church that practices true hospitality. People are asking for something better, more authentic, more Jesus-y, than what the church has typically offered. The challenge for the church then is to embrace that longing and to set hospitality as our highest goal.

I think we understand what it means to welcome the poor, the meek, the vulnerable in our society. We don’t always succeed in doing it, mind you, but in theory we understand that God calls the church to welcome the last and the least. Perhaps it’s a bit more confusing to know how Christians are to relate to members of other faith traditions or no faith tradition. We know what we’re not supposed to do. We’re not supposed to judge, but should we engage in dialogue? And when we do, what should be the nature of that dialogue? Should we witness about our faith? We know we shouldn’t condemn, but if we affirm the truth found in another tradition, does it lessen the claims of truth we make? How are Christians to be hospitable in a multifaith world?

To be hospitable, we must first acknowledge that religious pluralism is a natural condition of our world. And as Christians, we can absolutely celebrate that diversity! Spirit speaks in many languages and the spiritual practice of hospitality helps us to receive more messages of that expression. There are some conditions that we should practice in speaking with members of another faith tradition if we are to be hospitable. The first condition is that dialogue with friends from other faiths should be without any ulterior motive. In the past, the motive for Christians to engage in dialogue has been either because we want to convert the other person or to provide a forum for Christians to demonstrate the supposed superiority of our own positions. This kind of attitude has got to go! Hospitable interreligious dialogue seeks to engage respectfully and not to manipulate or coerce.

And so Christians must come to the table with essential openness. This openness involves deep listening, trying to understand not only what the other says, but also what they mean, the reality they’re trying to convey. We listen, not looking for flaws but listening for truth as the other understands it. We listen, seeking to understand what the other is. It is imperative that other religious traditions are taken seriously for what they are in and of themselves. This means, for example, not assuming that another faith is the rough equivalent of our own.

In hospitable dialogue, differences are not the enemy. Difference can be appreciated because difference can challenge us and cause us to rethink our own assumptions. It is in the respectful exploration of difference that a deeper awareness of our own tradition can emerge. We can discover similarities that can teach us much about what may be universal to religious paths. We often make the mistake of avoiding difference or playing it down. It is often the difference that makes the dialogue particularly fruitful.

And last, hospitable interreligious dialogue means avoiding hasty assumptions about the other. We must keep in mind our need to overgeneralize or categorize the religious practice of another. Isn’t it tempting to ask questions like, What are the three things that all Muslims (Buddhists, Hindis, etc) believe? Interreligous dialogue is holy ground with much mystery and we must be patient and walk with humility and reverence.

If the church is to survive, it will practice radical hospitality in our multifaith world. Hospitality is our salvation. We must be willing to let go of the superiority complex so often demonstrated by Christians and truly look at the other as equal. If we welcome the stranger with openness and respect, then the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy.

Hospitality is salvation. And it has never been more important that Christians recognize this and learn how to practice true hospitality. Amen.

Lenten Series on Spiritual Practice: Compassion 2/26/12

2012-02-28T15:22:00.000-08:00

Lenten Spiritual Practice Series

Week One: Compassion

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

February 26, 2012

Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Matthew 9:35-36

Christians are called to live in this world with broken open hearts.

Parker Palmer, Standing in the Tragic Gap

Today we begin a Lenten worship series on spiritual practice. Our focus today is on the spiritual practice of compassion. Compassion is a feeling deep within ourselves that the Buddhists call a “quivering of the heart.” Compassion is also a way of acting, choosing to be affected by the suffering of others and moving on their behalf. It can be said that compassion is the central ethical virtue in Christianity.

In the video we just watched, Standing in the Tragic Gap, Parker Palmer says that Christians are called to live in this world with broken open hearts, feeling the suffering in the world, including our own. To practice compassion means the willingness to bear witness to pain, to move toward it with caring, to go into situations where people are hurting. To use Palmer’s language, Christians stand in the tragic gap between the difficult, horrible realities that are present in the world and our dream of the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven, where justice and shalom prevail. As we stand in the “tragic gap”, the challenge, of course, is for your heart to be broken open by pain and therefore able to respond, rather than be paralyzed by a heart broken apart, unable to act with creativity or hope.

If you’ve tried to practice compassion on any serious or intentional level, you might realize that it’s not easy to do. When you move toward others with compassion, you are likely to bump into your own judgments about them which can close your heart so quickly. You become acutely aware that these “others” for whom you’re trying to have compassion don’t look like you do, don’t live like you do, don’t have the same values as you do or don’t act the way you think you would under similar circumstances.

Practicing compassion is also hard because life is sure to present us with some new experience or encounter with pain we feel unprepared for. Your partner betrays you, someone you admire disappoints you, some event of unimaginable cruelty happens in the world and compassion once again demands that you open your heart and receive it. If we are to practice compassion we may count on the reality that over and over again we will be asked to meet change, loss, and injustice, by finding the strength to open our hearts when we are most inclined to close them off.

In his book Who Speaks for God?: An Alternative To the Religious Right – A New Politics of Compassion, Community, and Civility Jim Wallis puts it like this:

Compassion has less to do with 'doing charity' than 'making connections.' The word compassion means literally 'to suffer with.' It means to put yourself in somebody else's shoes, try to understand their experience, or see the world through their eyes. That always changes our perspective. True compassion has less to do with sympathy than it does with empathy.

The call to compassion is not about somebody 'doing for' somebody else. Rather, its value is in the connection, the relationship, and the transaction in which everyone is changed. The Hebrew prophets say that we find our own good in seeking the common good. The prophet Isaiah says that when we feed the hungry, take in the homeless, and 'break the yoke' of oppression, then we find our own healing.

Compassion doesn’t always call for grand or heroic gestures. It asks you to find in your heart the simple but profound willingness to be present, with a commitment to end sorrow and contribute to the well-being and ease of all beings (when it is within your power to do so.) A word of kindness, a loving touch, a patient presence, a willingness to step beyond your fears and reactions are all gestures of compassion that can transform a moment of fear or pain into a moment of connection and comfort.

In our text from Matthew, Jesus finds himself in the midst of tremendous human suffering. He traveled, he taught, he healed. He saw crowds of people, lost and hungry, with overwhelming need, all of which he could not possibly alleviate. Even though many were healed, there would still be poverty and exploitation which meant that he could not assure the end of suffering. But Matthew tells us that when Jesus saw the crowds “he had compassion for them.” That’s a different thing than all the things he did for them. He chose to align himself with the path of understanding and compassion. He learned to listen to the cries of the world.

We mustn’t confuse compassion and pity. They are very different. Whereas compassion reflects the yearning of the heart to merge, to share in some way with the suffering of others, pity is a mindset designed to assure separateness. “Compassion is the spontaneous response of love; pity, the involuntary reflex of fear.” (Ram Dass in How Can I Help?) Do you see the difference? If I have pity for someone, I am separated from them. If I have compassion for them, I am connected to them. Compassion is the keen awareness that all things are interdependent. I may wish to withdraw, to isolate myself, but it cannot be done. And the illusion of my own separation only adds to the suffering.

Have you been blessed to know someone who inspired you with the compassion you saw in him or her? I’ll give you a moment to think about it, then turn to your neighbor and share.

Since we’re focusing on spiritual practices during Lent, each week we’ll explore specific ways we can nurture that day’s spiritual practice. We’re going to close with a short time of silent meditation. As you settle into a comfortable position, begin to follow your breath, breathing in, breathing out. And as you breathe in, silently pray: Be compassionate. And as you breathe out: as God is compassionate. (Time for silent breathing meditation).

Compassion means trying to see the world through God’s eyes. Through these eyes we look at our families and feel compassion for them, and our hearts expand. And if we keep looking through those eyes of compassion, perhaps we can see the world, with all its people, with all its pain, trusting that somehow everything that is is held in holy hands - and our hearts expand. And perhaps most difficult of all, we see even ourselves through the eyes of compassion. And our hearts expand.

A Prayer of Compassion

By Henri Nouwen

Dear God,

As you draw me ever deeper into your heart,

I discover that my companions on the journey

are women and men

loved by you as fully and as intimately as I am.

In your compassionate heart,

there is a place for all of them.

No one is excluded.

Give me a share in your compassion, dear God

so that your unlimited love may become visible

in the way I love my brothers and sisters.

Amen.

Thin Places 2/19/12

2012-02-20T13:46:00.000-08:00

Thin Places

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

February 19, 2012

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, ³and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. ⁴And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. ⁵Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” ⁶He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. ⁷Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” ⁸Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them anymore, but only Jesus. Mark 9:2-9

There are moments in life when we move closer to the God we seek; when we leave that which is familiar and we get an unexpected glimpse of the divine; flashes when we are given pause to wonder

about a reality that lies beyond the mundane rituals, the grief, trials and boredom of our day-to-day life. To be human means to possess a hunger to be connected, to be a part of something greater,

to be loved, to find peace.

Have you ever heard the expression “thin place”? The term comes from the Celtic tradition and it describes those moments in time when the veil between this world that we know and the other world is thin; when the usual barriers that exists at the edge of what we know to be human, finite, mortal is almost transparent. There are physical places in the world that some have called thin, places to which people make pilgrimage like Iona off the coast of Scotland or Rome or Jerusalem or Mecca. A thin place can happen unexpectedly anywhere, anytime really. Some experience a thin place while keeping vigil with someone who is dying. Some might call the other world heaven, to others it may be the abyss of the unknown. Whatever you perceive the other world to be, a thin place is a place where connection to that world seems effortless and signs of its existence are palpable.

Mahatma Gandhi speaks of this in his Spiritual Message to the World:

There is an undefinable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. It transcends the senses.

Simply put, a thin place is a place where you can feel that mysterious power that Gandhi refers to. For Gandhi, that mysterious power was God. A thin place calls you, draws you into itself, transports you into the presence of the world beyond this world.

If you have ever encountered a thin place in space or time, you know how deep the experience is and how difficult it is to describe without sounding crazy. Most of our lives are lived in the thicker places, places where we feel the illusion of separation and the desire for certainty and predictability. But from the those thicker places, we can seek out the thin ones because it is thin places that give depth and substance and meaning to our lives.

Our text today is about one of those thin places, this one on a mountaintop long ago. While the disciples watched, Jesus’ face and his clothes changed. They became “dazzling white.” Elijah and Moses show up to talk with Jesus. A cloud overshadowed them and a voice from heaven is described as saying, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him!” In the Bible, the divine presence is often described as being in clouds and speaking from clouds. And the language used, the voice speaking from the sky, no doubt references Jesus’ baptism when a similar voice spoke from the clouds to declare Jesus God’s beloved son.

Peter - impetuous, befuddled, terrified Peter cannot remain silent. He speaks up, offering to build three shelters, perhaps in an attempt to preserve the magic moment. He had not yet learned that you can’t preserve a thin place. It mysteriously vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Last week, Lisa and I had the joy of spending the week in Puerto Rico. And though Puerto Rico is home to beautiful beaches and interesting history, you may not realize that it is also home to El Yunque, a cool, mountainous, sub-tropical rain forest. We’d heard about how beautiful El Yunque was so we took our own pilgrimage there. As we drove away from the hustle and bustle of the city of San Juan, the terrain became more and more green, the hills rose, and the temperature cooled as we gained in elevation. We turned off the main highway on a small road that leads to the visitor’s center at the entrance to the rain forest. We picked up a map that marked the various trails and outlooks on the way to the highest peak, each stop filled with such beauty – waterfalls big and small and thousands of native plants including 150 different types of ferns, 240 tree species, 88 of them rare and 23 species of trees found nowhere else on Earth but El Yunque. It is a magical place.

We headed up the road, stopping along the way at the various observation points until we wound up as far as the road would take us in our car then we parked to take the foot trail towards the top of the mountain. As we set out on the hiking trail we naturally assumed a hushed silence upon encountering such beauty; lush green vegetation, brightly colored flowers, the brook rushing by the trail. Looking up, we saw a dense canopy of trees overhead.

What I have not yet told you is that as we looked up we could see enough of the sky through that dense canopy of trees to realize the clouds were getting darker. Apparently we didn’t really understand that it actually rained in the rain forest because we didn’t have a pancho or an umbrella. (That’s why they sold panchos at the gift shop!) A gentle rain began to fall though we could hear it rather than feel it since the trees were so dense. We kept walking, the rain kept falling, louder now, definitely feeling the rain on my skin now, hair soaking wet, water dripping into my eyes. As we walked, I realized that the funny sound I was hearing was actually the squishing of my shoes. At one point, the rain was particularly heavy and we took shelter under a tree with these wide palm like branches. It provided enough relief that I could take my camera out of its case and take the panoramic video I’ll show you now.

You might think that just being in that beautiful forest was my thin moment, but that’s not entirely true. As I stood in the rain, soaking wet, at the beginning of a long trail I had hoped to hike for an hour but now realized I would be unable to, I had a choice. I could choose to be disappointed, even miserable. I could choose to dwell on the fact that the rain was not letting up, that there was a chill in the air that made me shiver, that my shoes were squishing and I was soaked and it was time to go back to the car. Or I could simply accept that that was how it was going to be that day and instead take in the rightness of pouring rain in the rain forest.

Isn’t that how life works? There are things and circumstances, like rain and dripping hair and soggy clothes and squishy shoes that can distract us from really living life fully. The circumstances of our lives can make us feel miserable but we can always choose – we can choose to accept those things we cannot change, those circumstances for what they are, and instead focus on discovering the good, the true, and the beautiful, in each moment of this precious gift called life.

It’s true that we traveled thousands of miles for the magic of El Yunque. But you and I both know that you don’t have to take a plane and then a car and wind your way up a mountain in Puerto Rico to find heaven. It fact, you need look no further than your own home or office or church. For the truth of the matter is this: in the end, all places are thin places if we are only willing to pay attention. For as surely as the disciples experienced a divine moment on top of a mountain long ago, so too God is always present for you, and for me. Rain or shine.

Please join me in our prayer of transformation printed in your bulletin. Let us pray responsively.

Prayer of Transformation

One: We climb mountains seeking you, God,

but not knowing quite what we are looking for.

Many: Your presence appears as a voice from the clouds,

bright as dazzling light,

as incomprehensible mystery,

the extraordinary breaking through into the ordinary,

and we are touched by the holy.

One: In these high places,

in the thin places,

we see, we hear, we know you, God –

closer, deeper, beyond imagining, beyond expressing.

Many: Take us to the thin places.

Lead us to moment of epiphany and revelation.

Guide us to thin places where holiness touches ordinariness,

and where we long to see you face to face.

ALL: Amen.

Pray Without Ceasing 2/5/12

2012-02-20T13:35:00.000-08:00

Pray Without Ceasing

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

February 5, 2012

29 As soon as they^* left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. ³⁰Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. ³¹He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

32 That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. ³³And the whole city was gathered around the door. ³⁴And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

35 In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. ³⁶And Simon and his companions hunted for him. ³⁷When they found him, they said to him, ‘Everyone is searching for you.’ ³⁸He answered, ‘Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.’ ³⁹And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. -Mark 1:29-39

Every morning my alarm goes off at 5 AM. I get up, get dressed and head to the gym to work out for an hour. I come home, eat a nutritious breakfast, and head to the meditation room in our house for a full hour of quiet prayer. Then I shower and am in the office by 8:30.

Or I should say that is what I dream my life could be like(!) especially when I read today’s scripture text about busy, exhausted Jesus who wakes before sunrise and goes to a deserted place to pray. My real life is nothing like that. My real life is more along the lines of – church meeting at night, home by 9 or so, have dinner, do the dishes, wind down in front of the TV, go to bed around 11, lay in bed playing Words With Friends on my iphone, fall asleep after midnight, and getting a late start on the next day. That is my real life.

Our passage from Mark says Jesus is driven to seek out a place of solitude after he has healed Simon’s mother-in-law. The day before he had been at the synagogue in Capernaum casting out the demon from the possessed man. (That was last week’s text.) As people learn that he speaks with authority, that he has the power to deal with their difficulties like this dramatic healing of Simon’s mother-in-law, people begin to bring to him everyone who is sick. The entire city was gathered around his door, can you imagine? They came one after another after another. Dozens of people plagued with emotional, psychological, physical problems, all of them dumping their troubles on Jesus. And Jesus dealt with them one by one. Good Lord, Jesus must have been burned out at the end of that day.

And then the next day, he’s not lying in bed hitting the snooze button on his alarm. No, he gets up early way before the sun is even up. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep. You know how it is when you’re exhausted. You have a few hours to rest but your head is still spinning and your body doesn’t respond well when you say, “Go to sleep NOW!” Have you had those days when the work snowballs and the more you do the more it seems there is to be done. Even Jesus needed to regenerate, to connect with the source of all life, healing, and strength so that he could go on to the next town and do it all over again. And so Jesus slips away to a deserted place without human crowds or multitudes.

It was for this reason that Jesus had come to earth, after all. His mission was to meet the needs of humankind but there were so many of them. Where would he get the strength to keep up the pace, to continually face the crowd with this fresh, new teaching that they so desperately needed, to keep on giving of himself in limitless ways?

Does this sound familiar to anyone? There are such demands that are placed on our time, our energies, our resources. Every day there are tasks to accomplish, needs to be met, decisions to be made, business to attend to. Every day there are people to relate to, conflicts to be resolved, actions that require more than we in our strength alone can achieve.

Let’s be honest, shall we? Even though we all live busy and demanding lives, and even though many of us realize the need for prayer, I doubt many of us observe a discipline of arising before sunrise each day in order to pray. To be certain, some do and the practice adds much to their lives. But I suspect far more of you are like me and tend not to withdraw for significant daily.

Hopefully you are able to take blocks of time for rest and renewal with a vacation or sabbatical. But as far as a daily prayer discipline, sometimes I wonder if our definition of prayer is too limiting. We imagine a daily prayer would mean setting aside time only to pray, sitting or kneeling, folding our hands and closing our eyes and imagining words we want say to God or silence in which we listen for God. That is prayer, of course, but is there something broader that is also prayer? When Paul urged the Thessalonian church to “pray without ceasing” (I Thessalonians 5:17) surely he didn’t mean that they should say prayers without ceasing. Maybe Paul was talking about prayer in a broader sense. If prayer is the way we regenerate and connect with the source of life there are many ways to do that that we don’t necessarily consider to be prayer.

John Shelby Spong tells a story about his early days as an Episcopal priest. He went to visit a young woman, a mother with three young children, who was dying of cancer. They knew each other well and Bishop Spong describes a long conversation they shared one afternoon when her death was near, recalling her life experiences, facing the tragic reality that she would not see her children grow up, and speaking of the upcoming funeral arrangements. He describes it as an intimate, expansive, holy conversation. After two and a half hours as he prepared to leave, he shifted into his ordained capacity and asked if he could pray with her. She didn’t object; her attitude seemed to say, “Well, if you need to do that, go ahead.” He offered a prayer he described as typical for the situation, stringing together one pious cliché after another, trying to cover his own sense of sadness and awkwardness. When he had finished, he felt diminished and he suspected that she had too. And driving home that day he compared the two experiences – the long visit and the prayer. He felt they were very different situations. One expanded life and one contracted it. One opened him to relationship to an intimate God and one closed him. Which experience really was the prayer? Sitting with her for two and a half hours sharing God’s presence in a very painful situation or the words he rattled off under the guise of praying?

Prayer is withdrawing with intention to meet God. But prayer also can be doing anything that regenerates us and connects us with the source of life. Spiritual Director Jane Vennard offers this illustration. When she was a child, she often hiked the mountains of Colorado with her father. With the exuberance of youth, Jane would set a fast pace, headed up the mountain, leaving her father behind. Soon she would flop to the ground in exhaustion and here would come her father with his steady pace. She asked, ‘How do you keep going?” and he replied, “Well, Jane, I rest as I walk.”

Pray without ceasing. It’s about living a life of prayer rather than doing the activity of prayer. How do you channel God’s energy so that you can be in touch with it, live out of it, and become an agent of life and love?

Prayer can be folding your hands and bowing your head. Prayer can also be taking a walk or eating good food. Making love with your partner can be prayer or serving a meal at a soup kitchen. Prayer can be reading poetry or listening to music. The list is endless.

Pray without ceasing and the peace that passes all understanding will sustain all that you do. Amen.

"Teaching With Authority" January 29, 2012

2012-01-30T10:02:00.000-08:00

Teaching With Authority

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce
Community Christian Church
January 29, 2012

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. ²²They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. ²³Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, ²⁴and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” ²⁵But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” ²⁶And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. ²⁷They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” ²⁸At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee. Mark 1:21-28

A couple of years ago, my father had open heart surgery. Though I’m too far away to have been with him during his surgery, I went to Texas a few weeks later when he was at home recovering. My dad’s not really the best patient in the world. He has a bit of a stubborn streak and is not the type to carefully implement doctor’s orders. (Some of you know people like that.) It’s not that he doesn’t want to get better. It’s just that he usually thinks he knows better how to do it. He is just not the sort of person who is particularly receptive to the authority of others.

And so, I was surprised when I went with him to a post-operative appointment to observe that for whatever reason, the heart surgeon had earned my father’s respect. In my father’s eyes, the doctor spoke with authority and Dad listened to him. He paid attention to what he said. And as I sat in the office that day, I wondered exactly how that had come to be. Why precisely did this doctor have such authority with my Dad?

For starters, the waiting room was very crowded. Was it the fact that we waited for some time before we were called back? This was a doctor with lots of patients. Maybe it was the various diplomas and awards that hung on the walls. Was it the fact that the doctor had identified himself as a Christian? I know that carries a lot of weight with my father. And later when I met the doctor he had excellent interpersonal skills, a warm demeanor, he listened attentively, maintained eye contact, and spoke concisely in direct response to the questions he was asked. Was it the doctor’s communication style that prompted my father’s respect?

Who knows why my father felt as he did toward his doctor and it was likely a combination of all of these factors that contributed, but when I read today’s scripture passage I began to wonder – what do you suppose the people in the synagogue saw or heard that led them to conclude that Jesus “taught with authority”? Exactly what was it that had them leaning in closer to listen?

Was it the exorcism they witnessed that led them to find Jesus authoritative? It couldn’t be that because the story clearly says that they were impressed with Jesus’ authority even before the exorcism took place. They might have had a history with Jesus. Maybe Jesus’ reputation had preceded him or some had even heard him speak before but we don’t know that. Was it Jesus’ unique giftedness as a teacher that blew them away. We can’t be certain. As often happens in gospel stories, we are left to fill in some of the blanks. However it was they came to know it, Jesus had authority in their eyes. Only it’s not the kind that comes with degrees or uniforms or titles. Jesus doesn’t hold any office. He’s not a member of the Sanhedrin. Not a judge or a priest. Jesus is a nobody and yet he speaks truth and they recognize it. Sometimes we say something “rings true.” Maybe that’s how the crowd felt when Jesus spoke.

In our text, Jesus is preaching along and the crowd is leaning forward in their seats in rapt attention when “just then” (Mark loves to add suspense to his stories by saying things like "just then" or “suddenly”); "just then"a man with an unclean spirit enters. I wonder what he was doing in the temple. Had he come to disrupt Jesus’ teaching or challenge his ministry? This spirit recognizes Jesus immediately, calls him Jesus of Nazareth and asks, “Have you come here to destroy us?” Jesus commands the spirit to be silent and to come out of the man.

This part of the story sounds a little strange to us. It’s hard to know what is meant by “demon possession.” Many think that what is described as demon possession was usually some type of mental or physical illness that was not understood at the time. Others say that demon possession still happens today though I’m not convinced. (The only demon possession I’ve ever seen was Linda Blair spewing out green pea soup in “The Exorcist” many years ago and I don’t think that’s what Mark’s talking about.) In any event, the encounter wows the crowd and reinforces their impression of Jesus’ authority.

This little gospel vignette gives us a picture of Jesus that is consistent with many gospel stories. Again and again we see Jesus walking the talk, claiming authority and speaking truth that transforms people’s lives. He offers words that reflect God’s vision for humankind. We don’t know the nature of the spirit, but we can assume it had rendered the man an outcast until Jesus saw him and addressed his situation. And once again, Jesus’ authority leads from sickness to healing; woundedness to wholeness; exclusion to inclusion.

Of course, the task of a sermon is not merely to tell the story, but to help us locate ourselves within it. How is this story relevant for us today?

Even though demon possession sounds strange to us, if we are honest and look closely at ourselves, many of us are possessed to some degree. It’s not too far a stretch to consider addiction, particularly in its extreme forms, as possession. I’ve seen people who are so consumed by drugs or alcohol that it’s impossible to carry on a conversation with them; times when they seem like a completely different person than who they really are.

But possession has more subtle forms. Many people are possessed by things like jealousy, worry, grief. I’ve known people who seem trapped because of their unforgiving spirit, others who are so excessively self-centered that they are isolated from true community. These kinds of issues need to be exorcized from our lives if we are to live as God intended, with purpose, so joy-filled and free. Mark’s story shows that when an unhealthy spirit animates or possesses us, it is in opposition to the spirit of Christ, the spirit of a healthy and whole life.

Are there negative traits that animate your being? That possess or consume you? The road toward a healthier, happier live begins with looking within ourselves and having the courage to name, to call out the things we’d like to work on.

The beginning of a new year is the perfect time to consider - how can we all cleanse ourselves and be released from the unhealthy things that claim us and instead fill our lives with habits and activities that will lead us to a more positive focus, more joy, more connection with others, more contentment in ourselves, more commitment to the world, more love in our lives?

It starts with being clear about whose authority we recognize and making decisions that are consistent with that authority. And if the authority we recognize is Jesus and his teachings; if we live our lives consistent with the values he lived, then we will become more and more possessed by a thirst for justice and a deep and abiding love for the world God loves.

May God be powerfully present in our lives. May the example of Jesus stir and inspire us to claim our own authority. And may love be the primary authority under which we live. Amen.

On Difference January 15, 2012

2012-01-19T17:38:00.000-08:00

Reflections on Difference

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

Are you racist? I’m not going to ask you to respond out loud, but I do want you to look inside yourself thoughtfully and consider the question – are you racist?

In all fairness, I should come clean and tell you that was a trick question because I believe we are all, to some degree, racist. And I’m referring to everyone present here today and I dare say, everyone living in the United States embodies some type of racism. Our backgrounds are all different, but growing up in our shared culture cannot help but produce citizens that are racist.

A more interesting question might be: what were your early experiences that have impacted your views on race? I’ll tell you a bit about mine. I was born and raised in Texas. Every single person in my church, school, family, and circle of friends was white. My parents never had black, Asian, or Hispanic friends and occasionally, I recall hearing racist jokes. I don’t recall if I laughed at them, but I probably did. Everyone else seemed to be laughing, except my mother, whose disapproval was apparent when someone offered a racist joke. My brother had a friend from school who was black named Keith Clay. Of all the friends that my brothers had during our childhood, I don’t really remember any of their names except for Keith. You might say he stood out in my young mind because of his particularity.

And I shouldn’t say that every single person I knew was white. There was Alice, the black woman who took care of me when my parents were working and my older brothers were at school. I was quite young and though she worked for our family for a couple of years, I didn’t really think of her as a person in the same way my parents were people. Like a child might do, I more identified her with the role she played.

As I got older I began to notice that not everyone was white like me. As I grew up and my little world began to broaden, I began to notice more African American people and Hispanic people. I would not see people of color as teachers or church members or business associates of my parents, but as the young men who would bus the table or work in the kitchen in the restaurants we frequented or maybe pump gas into our car. People of color were, without exception, at least in my recollection, in subservient roles.

I have a distinct memory of sitting with my Grandmother and watching TV. I was probably 12 or 13 and we were watching “The Dating Game.” An African American couple were contestants and at one point in the show I commented that I thought the husband was “cute.” My grandmother gasped as if I had said a terrible thing. She put her hand to her mouth and said, “Lee Ann, he’s a…” and she used a word that I will not repeat.

These are my early experiences, some of the influences that have shaped who I am and how I relate to the world. I’m not proud of them neither do I apologize for them. My grandmother was a wonderful person and I loved her dearly - and she was a product of her context. I was born into a certain context and my early childhood experiences shaped me. And thanks to later experiences, education, exposure, and friendships, that have also shaped me, I am happy that I have grown. I am, however, always on the lookout for those little threads from my early life to manifest in some kind of snap judgment or visceral bias with another person. I’m mature enough to know that there are people in this world who are raging racists. And there are people who are blind to their own racial bias. And one is just as dangerous as the other.

What about you? Think for a moment about your early experiences regarding race. How do you locate yourself in the ongoing story of racism?

Sometimes people think of racism as a black problem rather than an issue that affects all people, though differently. For Native Americans, the issue of racism is shaped by the reality that they are a colonized people. For African Americans the issue is around their past status as slaves. When white people begin to confront the effects of their power and privilege, we must begin to accept the full history and legacy of colonial America.

The term “White privilege” refers to a way to think about racial inequality that focuses on the advantages that white people accrue from society as much as the disadvantages that people of color experience. In my experience, overt racism or prejudice, in which a dominant group actively seeks to oppress or suppress other racial groups for its own advantage; that brand of racism is pretty rare. At least in the people I talk to. What’s much more common is the assumption by people who are white that their experience is the norm that everyone should experience. Racism is not all about slavery. There have been many institutionalized racist practices in the history and present reality of the United States. Indeed, all people who are white reap tremendous benefits from the legacy of slavery and segregation. It’s important to acknowledge that all people who are white benefit from this legacy of racism, even if they were not alive during the time of US slavery.

An awareness of white privilege begins with noticing. If you are a white person in our present context, you can generally count on the following conditions that a person of color cannot count on. A white person could say:

· I can be pretty sure of having my voice heard in a group in which I am the only white person.

· Whether I use checks, credit cards or cast, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability.

· If I want to, I can arrange to be surrounded by people of my race most of the time.

· If I need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing whatever home I can afford.

· I can be sure that my children will be given materials in school that testify to the existence of their race.

· If I have a cut on my hand, I can easily find “flesh” colored bandaids that more or less match the color of my skin.

· I can generally arrange to protect my children from people who might not like them because of their race.

· My chief worries about my children do not concern others’ attitudes toward their race.

· I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race.

· I can be pretty sure that if I ask to speak to “the person in charge” I will be facing a person of my own race.

· I can easily buy postcards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children’s magazines featuring people of my race.

· I can worry about racism without being seen as self-interested or self-seeking.

· I feel welcomed and “normal” in the usual walks of public life.

White privilege is real and it’s vital that people who are white, first, understand it. It’s only then that something can be done about it. And there are tangible, concrete practices that people who are white can embrace. For example:

· Stop allowing yourself to be brainwashed into believing stereotypes. Acknowledge and examine society’s stereotypes about people of color. Assume you’ve been influenced by them. What are they? Make a list. Know what you are working to change.

· Don’t assume that everyone is either a person of color or a white person. (This paradigm assumes white is normative and all other races can be lumped together.)

· Start turning things around. Instead of wondering why no people of color attend an event or join a group, ask why the group only attracts white people.

· Be willing to be uncomfortable. Understand that race and racism presents complexities and contradictions. Be patient and do not try to reduce or simplify.

· Learn about other cultures, not by asking questions, but by spending time with people (without interrogating them.)

· Put yourself in environments predominantly attended by people of color. Notice how it feels to be the only white person present.

· Stop passing down racist prejudices to your children. Expose them to differences early on. Actively encourage your children and all children to develop relationships with people of color, both adults and children.

· Come to the MOJO film series on Tuesday to watch “Gran Torino” and discuss.

It’s so easy to talk about diversity and inclusivity without really ever doing anything to make those concepts real. (Churches are very good at this.) The truth is, diversity and inclusivity are terribly hard realities to achieve, so few communities achieve them because it’s uncomfortable, unsettling, and frustrating. Learning the language of diversity, walking the talk is the work of a lifetime because it’s hard to accept people who are not like you, who do not talk the way you do, or believe the things you believe, or dress or vote as you do. It is even harder to appreciate them for the things about them that are not like you, to find them interesting and fun, and to enjoy the learning that is part of the experience.

Overcoming racism is not a quick fix, in our own lives or in our communities. And so the question becomes, can we get beyond our need to fix everything quickly and simply begin a process that will last a lifetime? I’m not sure, but I hope so. In any event, all we can do is choose to walk down that road toward affirmation of all people. And for today, maybe it’s enough just to start the journey.

Reflections on a New Year

2012-01-19T17:29:00.000-08:00

Reflection for a New Year

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

December 31, 2011

Bronnie Ware worked for many years in palliative care with those who were terminally ill. And like many hospice workers, she writes that she shared some extraordinary times with people who were preparing for their own deaths. People usually grow when they are faced with their own mortality. It depends on the person, of course. Some grow a lot and with others it’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on. Ware observed some phenomenal changes in people and found that each person experienced a variety of emotions - denial, fear, anger, remorse, and at least with the patients she worked with, eventually acceptance.

She asked every patient if they had any regrets about their lives or if there was anything they would do differently. Some common themes surfaced again and again. Specifically, she identified five regrets commonly held by people who knew they were about to die.

I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all and it’s not surprising. I think we all tend to think of our lives in the short term. There are things we want to do or ways we want to be that we never seem to get to because there’s always something else that’s more pressing, that we think is more important. But when people realize their lives are almost over, all those unfulfilled dreams are easier to see. Some dreams are difficult to make happen, but many of them can become reality if we set our minds to it and if we make certain choices to make them happen. It’s very important to try and honor at least some of our dreams along the way because from the moment you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom that very few of us realize and appreciate until it’s too late.

What dreams for your life could become a priority for you in 2012?

I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.

Ware reports that every male patient that she nursed had this regret, as well as some female patients. They said they missed much of their children’s youth or the companionship of people they cared about. The Bible speaks to this in the book of Ecclesiastes, found in the middle of the Old Testament. It essentially is one person’s account, a man probably, of an experiment he conducted in honesty. He looked over every aspect of life, all human endeavor, attempting to discern what endures, what lasts. His experiment in honesty yielded a somber result. “I considered all that my hands had done and toil I had spent in doing it, and again, all was vanity and a chasing after the wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun” (Eccl. 2:11). Ecclesiastes goes on to say that even though little of what we accomplish lasts, we shouldn’t quit working. On the contrary, we should vigorously engage in everything we do, including our work. The work of our hands is one of the gracious things that can add meaning to our lives. If our work is something we do to get to something else, this can lead to frustration and despair. But if we are fortunate enough to have work that we enjoy as an end in itself, our work will add meaning to our lives. Let’s face it, most of the trouble we get into with the work of our hands is when we fail to keep work in its place. We become obsessive or we try to secure ourselves through our work. As far as Ecclesiastes is concerned, all of this is merely striving after the wind and it comes to nothing. How much better to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, the day-to-day routines, the rhythm of it all.

Do you need to pursue more balance in your work life?

I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many of Ware’s patients said that they had suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became the unique individuals they were capable of becoming. They were so busy trying to please others that they sold themselves out. Many developed illnesses that Ware felt related to the bitterness and resentment they carried. It’s not easy to speak honestly and truthfully to another person, especially if you expect that what you have to say will be upsetting. And it won’t always go smoothly when you do get the courage to speak. The other person might react out of anger or some kind of pain, but often this passes. When we’re able to change the pattern of interaction and speak honestly, in the end it can raise the relationship to a new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

Do you express your feelings honestly and respectfully to the people in your life?

I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Often Ware’s patients would not truly realize the full benefits of friendships until their dying weeks when it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip away over the years. Indeed, it seems that everyone who researches happiness from contemporary scientists to ancient philosophers agrees that having strong social bonds is probably the most meaningful contributor to happiness. It’s common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. Ware writes that though her patients often wanted to get their financial affairs in order, this was more for the benefit of those they were leaving behind. Ultimately it wasn’t money or status that held true importance for her patients. It all came down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remained in their final weeks, love and relationships.

Would your life be better if you made it a priority to nurture friendships?

I wish I had let myself be happier.

Many of Ware’s patients didn’t realize until the end that, to a great extent, happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. Fear of change led them into complacency where they pretended, to others and to themselves, that they were content, when really they longed for more laughter and joy and happiness in their lives. Gretchen Walsh talks about this in her book, The Happiness Project. The “set-point” theory of happiness holds that a person’s basic level of happiness doesn’t fluctuate much, except briefly. Walsh, however, concluded that it was absolutely possible to improve one’s level of happiness. According to current research, in the determination of a person’s level of happiness, genetics accounts for about 50 percent; life circumstances, such as age, gender, ethnicity, marital status, income, health, occupation, and religious affiliation, account for about 10 to 20 percent; and the remainder is a product of how a person things and acts. In other words, people have an inborn disposition that’s set within a certain range, but they can boost themselves to the top of their happiness range or push themselves down to the bottom of their happiness range by their actions. Some people are more naturally ebullient or melancholy than others, but people’s decision about how they want to lead their lives greatly affects their happiness.

Could you make decisions that would increase your happiness?

We are like all the patients that Bronnie Ware worked with in hospice. At some point, we will all die. I don’t know of any of us who knows whether or not it will be soon, but given that we are on the cusp of a new year, looking back at 2011 and toward 2012, it is interesting to consider these top five regrets of the dying. After all, one year is dying, with just a few hours left, and a brand new year stretches out in front of us in boundless possibility. What do you want your life in 2012 to look like? Human beings are capable of making enormous change if we desire. Don’t wait for a crisis to happen before you make the changes that will lead you to a more vital, satisfying, meaningful, happy life. ‘Tis the season to celebrate the incarnation, the Word made flesh, the coming of Jesus into our lives. In John 10:10, Jesus says, “I came that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” Pursuing our own abundant life is not a selfish act. It is a gift that we give ourselves and everyone around us. Give it to yourself this year.

(Read silently, then read aloud, softly and at your own pace.)

Many: Creative God, you make all things new in heaven and on earth.

We come to you in this new year with new desires and old fears,

new decisions and old controversies,

new dreams and old weaknesses.

Because you are a God of hope,

we know that you create all the possibilities of the future.

Because you are a God of love,

we know that you accept all the mistakes of the past.

Because you are the God of our faith,

we enter your gates with thanksgiving and praise,

and we serve and bless you. Amen.

Longing November 27, 2011

2012-01-11T09:50:00.000-08:00

Longing

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

November 27, 2011

The First Sunday of Advent

Text: Isaiah 54:1-9

A few weeks ago I dropped our dog, Denver, off at the groomer. As I prepared to leave, she led him into the back with some difficulty since he kept turning his head to look back at me and planting his feet so as to resist. A few hours later I went to pick him up and the groomer met me at the counter and we stood chatting. I assumed that Denver was in the back, but after several minutes, I heard this soft whine of longing coming from under the counter and I realized that Denver was in a crate, waiting for me, just within arm’s distance of where I stood. He had done his best to wait patiently, but after I didn’t acknowledge him for several minutes, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent and our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures invites us to remember the times of longing in our lives; times when we have believed deeply and have felt the assurance of God in our lives, as well as times of doubt when we have felt, perhaps acutely, the apparent absence of God. When have you experienced God’s presence most clearly? And when have you longed for God to appear?

Our ancestors in the faith, the ancient Hebrew people had first-hand experience both with feeling God’s presence and with feeling God’s absence. Around 587 BCE, the devastation of the Babylonian exile took place. The brightest and best of Jewish leadership was removed from their homeland of Judah and taken into Babylon where they served the courts and the needs of the Babylonians for centuries. This was not only a political defeat for the Jews, but also a crisis of faith. Babylon’s victory was perceived as a defeat of Yahweh, the God of the Israelites by the Babylonian God, Marduk.

Life went on for the exiles in Babylon, generation after generation. They longed for the places they loved, the trappings of Temple and Promised Land. Today if we’re not able to go to our own church, we might just find another one. It was completely different for ancient Jews. They had one temple, in Jerusalem, far away. So they began to write down their stories of faith in order to prevent assimilation into the Babylonian culture. Think of it as a resistance movement and the literature that came from this time voiced the Jews’ hope that Marduk’s apparent victory was not the last word and that their captivity would come to an end.

It’s important to address the historical context of ancient Israel before we read today’s passage from Isaiah because to our ears, the language sounds strange and difficult to relate to. People today are sometimes put off by the images and language used in some biblical passages. I’ve heard people comment, I don’t have any use for the Bible because God just sounds so punitive or the God described is like some kind of primitive caricature. Who can take the Bible seriously? When you read this passage, indeed the entire Bible, and first take into account the circumstances that the writers were experiencing when they wrote it then it usually makes sense. We, in our modern mindset, can translate the pre-scientific understandings of an ancient people and often find commonality with what they felt or experienced. First, as I read this passage, listen for how it relates to ancient Israel. Then we’ll consider what wisdom it has for us.

This passage from Isaiah speaks to an exiled people who were disheartened and disillusioned. They thought their god, Yahweh, was the most powerful god of all. Though they can’t understand why Yahweh had chosen to disappear, they were confident that Yahweh was still mighty and was fully capable of showing up and saving them. And so, in this passage, they reference times in the past that they had known Yahweh’s strength, in order to remind themselves that Yahweh really is powerful. Also, listen for them speculating about a reason why Yahweh had gone away. They think that God had been mad at them because they had sinned. And so they acknowledge their wrongdoing and state their dependence on Yahweh who has shaped and formed them as a potter makes a vessel.

Isaiah 64:1-9:

O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence—²as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil— to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence! ³When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence. ⁴From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for you. ⁵You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways. But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed.

⁶We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. ⁷There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity. ⁸Yet, O Lord, you are our Creator and our Provider; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. ⁹Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and do not remember iniquity forever. Now consider, we are all your people.

Perhaps this passage could be summed up like this: God, you are the strongest greatest god of all. What is happening? You’re nowhere to be found and it must be because of the things we’ve done wrong. We’re really sorry now. Please come back to us. We are the people you created and formed.

There might be some barriers to us finding meaning in this passage. We don’t really think of the battle between good and evil like the ancient Israelites did, as some sort of like a high-stakes boxing match in which Yahweh had been outmatched by Marduk. And the concrete language that’s used in this passage evokes a sense of God up in the sky, tearing open the heavens and coming down to earth to rescue them.

This expression is foreign to us, but perhaps we can find similarity in the experience of longing. And when I say longing, I mean something different than wishing. A very trivial example of longing - think of my dog Denver’s soft whine. In his little doggie brain… I’m locked in this crate. She’s been gone a long time. Now she’s back, she’s right here but she’s just talking away. Doesn’t she notice me? Doesn’t she care?

Denver’s whine is a trivial parallel to the heartbreaking oppression of the ancient Jews. In their laments they voice question that remain in our hearts today: where is God? And why have things turned out so differently than we expected. Isaiah prays, "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence!" If only the heavens would open wide and we would see God’s overriding majesty, God’s justice and grace revealed to us and to all in this pain-filled world. If only the firmament were rent and goodness poured down into the midst of our lives. If only all that is wrong in our lives could be righted and restored.

But the heavens do not open. Not that way. Beneath the firmament, history continues to play out its recurrent ancient tragedies. Poverty, violence, injustice abound. Maybe we aren’t so very different from Isaiah, the prophet of old. There are times that we, too, address the silent heavens and call on the distant Lord whom we cannot see. We urge on the God who seems so slow to act.

And now it is Advent. Faithfully, like those before us, we enter once again into the drama of longing and waiting. In Advent we take care to note the shape of the darkness in which our candles burn. What is your longing? What is the need for which you need God to come? What hurt do you need God to heal? Where is the light most needed? If the heavens do open at Christmas, where and with whom will you hear the angels sing?

How will you respond this Advent? Will you find yourself joining Isaiah in longing for the heavens to open, for justice to come for the living?

I hope so. I hope you stand with Isaiah in expectant longing. I hope so because the alternative is to choose indifference or resignation. I want to be among those who watch and hope, even when our hopes seem far from realized.

We wait because Christ always comes. “The arc of the universe is long and it bends toward justice.” (King) Love is stronger than hate. The light comes to the darkness and the darkness does not overwhelm it. This Advent, may our waiting be active, not passive; alert and looking for the light, not resigned to the darkness. May we feel the stirring of God in our own hearts, just as the child stirs in the womb. Amen.

Saying Thank You - November 20, 2011

2011-11-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-03T07:11:00.001-07:00

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

2011-11-03T07:10:00.000-07:00

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.

Joseph: the rest of the story 8/21/11

2011-09-23T09:44:00.000-07:00

Learning from Joseph

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

August 21, 2011

Today we conclude our series on Joseph:

the favorite child of Jacob,
the dreamer who flaunted his favored status to his brothers,
the object of privilege,
the teenager betrayed by his brothers and sold into slavery,
the honorable slave falsely accused and imprisoned,
the resourceful go-to guy,
the interpreter of dreams,
the patient prisoner,
the creative problem-solver,
the right-hand man to Pharoah,
the manager of food production during the famine,
the forgiver of his brothers,
the sustainer of his people.
Joseph, the resilient overcomer of adversity.

Through all the ups and downs of his life, Joseph managed to come out on the other side, moving in the right direction. Joseph’s story invites us to examine our own. We all have faced adversity, some more than others.

What is the cause of adversity in our lives? Sometimes, if we’re willing to self-reflect, we find that we have a hand in bringing about the adversity we face. Sometimes we mess up and we cause or at least contribute to the deep, dark hole we find ourselves in. Others times, adversity is caused by the actions of others. On purpose or accidentally, we are harmed because someone else did something that affects us. And still other times, the cause of the adversity we face isn’t clear.

In the story of Joseph, we see examples of all three scenarios. Joseph, himself, contributed to some of the earliest adversity he faced. As a teenager, he not only had dreams about being in a position of great power, including all of his brothers bowing down to him in subservience, but he flaunted those grandiose dreams to his brothers. Is it any wonder they hated him? They responded by throwing him in a pit and then selling him into slavery. Are their actions justified by Joseph’s bragging? No, of course not. But had Joseph demonstrated a spirit of humility, would things have turned out differently than they did?

Joseph asked for some of what he got. As you look back on your life, did you, even in some small way, contribute to the adversity you have faced?

Much of the adversity Joseph faced was due to the actions of others. His father, Jacob, gave Joseph a special coat to denote privilege so that while the other brothers were out working in the fields, Joseph didn’t wear the clothes of a working man. Jacob pampered Joseph. He treated him differently than his other children. His favoritism set him up to be the object of his brother’s wrath.

And later there were others who caused adversity for Joseph. In Egypt, Joseph was sold to his master, Potiphar. You’ll remember Potiphar’s wife falsely accused Joseph of sexual misconduct. Though Joseph was innocent and had acted honorably, he found himself thrown into prison in response to false accusations.

Again, looking back over your life, have you ever been faced with adversity from the false accusations of others? Have you ever felt set up in a way that invited trouble into your life?

So, sometimes the adversity in our lives is of our own making, sometimes the actions of others bring struggles into our lives, and sometimes, the cause of adversity just isn’t clear. One of the key factors in Joseph’s story is the famine that spread throughout the land, prompting his brothers to go to Egypt and beg for food. Why do crops fail? Why is rainfall either not enough or too much? Why do tsunamis and hurricanes and tornados devastate entire communities? If God is good and God is powerful, why do the innocent suffer? Why are tens of thousands of people dead today due to drought in Somalia? Why are the lives of half a million children threatened by malnutrition in the Horn of Africa? These are literal famines but why do some people experience famines of love, famines of acceptance, famines of support, famines of attention?

Reflect on your life. Have you faced adversity because of factors that were completely outside of your control; outside of anyone’s control?

The famine in the land prompted Jacob to send his sons into Egypt to beg for food. And, of course, it was their brother, Joseph, to whom they went though they did not recognize him. Joseph, who had found his way out of slavery, endured false accusations, and unwarranted imprisonment had come out on top, 2^nd in command of all of Egypt. But there was one other adversity Joseph had to overcome: at the climax of this story, Joseph had to deal with his own family. Anyone out there ever had to deal with adversity within your own family? And in one of the most moving scenes in scripture, Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers and he forgives them for all they had done to him. Joseph did not allow the hurtful betrayal of his brothers to turn him into a bitter, cold person. Joseph was willing to forgive.

Throughout all the adversity he faced, Joseph was resilient. Where others might have been broken by any one of the obstacles he encountered, Joseph was steadfast. What can we learn from Joseph’s story that can help us to be steadfast and resilient in facing adversity in our lives?

We’ve already mentioned the value of cultivating a forgiving heart. Sometimes people say, “forgive and forget.” I’m not sure how emotionally healthy or even feasible at all it is to forget when someone has hurt you deeply. Forgetting does not necessarily go along with forgiving. I think forgiveness means the willingness to acknowledge the offense, to learn from the past, but then to make a conscious decision to leave it behind. Resilient people accept circumstances that cannot be changed and they resolve not to be bound by them.

Resilient people refrain from judging the experiences of their lives as good or bad. Joseph put it like this when he finally confronted his brothers, “You brothers meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” What seems to be bad, can turn out to be good. This is often true in our own lives. A devastating break-up becomes the invitation to deal with your own issues. The shocking job loss leads to a new job that is better suited. Or you make a lot of money in one job, lose it, get another with much lower pay and find you’re happier without the extravagant lifestyle to support. A health scare is a wake-up call that leads to a healthier, happier life.

Resilient people step back from judging experiences as good or bad, welcome or unwelcome. They simply embrace what is. There are times in our lives when taking a firm stance against something is appropriate, to claim our power and to use it. However, it seems Joseph might have cultivated a gift of powerlessness. Instead of bucking the flow of everything that happened to him, responding with righteous indignation, it seems he rolled with the punches. He accepted the twists and turns of his life and invested his energy in positive ways. In other words, he focused on doing the things he could to move forward, rather than be indignant about the limits that adversity had placed on him.

When we read Joseph’s story, all thirteen chapters of it, the overarching story of God at work through Joseph comes through loud and clear. It is because of Joseph that the ancient Hebrews did not perish off the face of the earth; that they didn’t starve to death. Because of Joseph’s generosity, our forebears survived. How willing are we to consider the overarching story of our own lives? Take a moment and think back over your life. What has been the story of your life? What themes have emerged? If you had to sum up your entire life in a few words, what would they be?

Ultimately, our lives amount to so much more than whatever today’s current struggle is. As we look back, often we can see God’s hand at work in the stories of our lives. We can see that mysterious dance that takes place between God’s freedom and our freedom, between God’s will and our own. In this dance, it is not God’s job to keep painful things from happening. They do happen. Brothers turn against brothers. People are bought and sold. Famine devastates the land. God’s job is not to prevent these things from happening. God’s job is to stay present in them and to keep on being God, creating whole worlds out of total chaos, breathing life into piles of dust, taking the unfathomable wreckage of our lives and making something fine out of them. That is what God does - sometimes with our help and sometimes in spite of us. That is who God is.

Joseph is our ancestor in the faith. My prayer for you today is that, like him, you may face your life bravely; that you may move past the pain others cause you; that you may embrace your live just as it is and listen to it rather than always resisting it. My prayer for you today is that you may be willing to forgive and that you may trust God at work in you. Amen.

"Joseph: the Rest of the Story" August 14, 2011

2011-08-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Joseph: The Rest of the Story

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

August 14, 2011

Text: Genesis, chapters 37-50

Last week we began a series on the epic story of Joseph. It is a long story, much too long to cover in one sermon so we’ve expanded into the second week, with more to come next week. In last week’s episode, the stage was set with Joseph, his father’s favorite, being sold into slavery by his resentful brothers. Last week’s sermon ended with a cliffhanger of sorts: the teenage Joseph sold by his brothers to Ishmaelite slave traders, on his way to an uncertain future in Egypt.

I know you’re disappointed not to read every word of Joseph’s story, all 13 chapters of it. I considered asking you to read it for homework last week, but made my own conclusions about how many of you would actually do that…. (Should I say how few of you?) Today, we’re going to cover as much as possible of Joseph’s story and then next week, we’ll spend more time contemplating what Joseph’s story has to say to us.

So – when we left the story last week, Joseph is on his way to Egypt. His brothers explain his absence to his father, Jacob, with the lie that Joseph has been killed by a fierce, wild beast, as evidenced by the bloody coat-of-many-colors. Jacob, of course, is devastated by what he thinks is the violent death of his son.

Shortly after, Joseph arrives in Egypt and is sold as a slave to Potiphar. We’re told that God was with Joseph and he quickly blossomed in his new slave status. Joseph’s master, Potiphar trusted Joseph and put him in charge of everything, which Joseph handled responsibly and well because, well, he’s Joseph, after all. He’s pretty much a rock star when it comes to dealing with adversity.

Then the plot thickens. Joseph is apparently quite the looker. Joseph is hot! His hotness does not go unnoticed by Potiphar’s wife who starts coming on to him. Joseph is having none of it and remains honorable while he keeps trying to dodge her advances. One time she corners him and grabs his “garment” while he skedaddles away. Well, she’s had enough of his quick escapes and ends up framing him to her husband. She tells her husband, “Joseph seduced me and dropped his garment in the process. Look here it is!” When Potiphar finds out about this, he is not happy and throws Joseph in prison.

Before you know it, Joseph is running the prison. He’s one of those guys that, wherever he goes, he winds up as the manager. Some other fellows are in the pen because Pharoah is mad at them. A couple of them are Pharoah’s butler and baker. Well, the butler and the baker have dreams and no one around is able to interpret these dreams. Joseph says, “I can!” (no surprise there. After all you’ll remember from last week that Joseph was a dreamer.) Joseph says that the dreams mean that the butler would soon be restored to Pharoah’s favor and the baker was on his way to the gallows to be hanged. Guess what? Joseph was right! And as the butler is packing his bags to leave prison and go back to his life, Joseph says, “Hey, remember me to Pharoah ok?”

Well, time passes and the butler does nothing for Joseph. Soon Pharoah has some dreams that trouble him and he’s looking everywhere for someone to interpret them for him. (These guys were pretty focused on their dreams, weren’t they? Imagine if we went to all that trouble every time we had a weird dream!) Anyway, no one could tell Pharoah what his dreams meant (do you see where this is going?) and when the butler hears about it, a light goes off and he remembers Joseph. Joseph is still wasting away in prison, but, quick as a flash, he finds himself standing in front of Pharoah. And Joseph comes though! He tells Pharoah that his dream means that in Egypt there would soon be seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. That made sense to Pharoah who thought Joseph was a pretty smart fellow who could continue to be useful to him.

So Pharoah put Joseph in charge of all of Egypt and made him his right-hand man, second in command. Joseph got all kinds of cool stuff – a gold ring, a gold necklace, a new chariot that rode right behind Pharoah’s. And Joseph’s job was to manage the entire grain storage operation in Egypt during the years of plenty, which he did very well, of course. So, when the great famine came, guess who had plenty of food stockpiled? Egypt! And guess where all the nations had to come to buy food? That’s right, right to Joseph. And the famine was so great that it eventually affected, guess who? None other than Joseph’s scoundrel brothers all the way back in Canaan.

So Joseph’s brothers head to Egypt to try and get some food. Only they have no idea that the ruler of Egypt before whom they will appear is actually the little brother they sold into slavery so long ago. They don’t recognize him. And since I know you’d be disappointed not to have another installment of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” let’s turn to Andrew Lloyd Weber to tell us what happens next. Donny Osmond is lookin’ fine as the gold-adorned ruler of Egypt and he recognizes his brothers, or course, and he decides to have a little fun. He reminds them about a dream he had a long time ago. He wants them to grovel before him. (clip – “The Brothers Go to Egypt”/”Grovel”)

And in Genesis, after they sang the song and that huge machine shot out those big ears of corn at them, Joseph pumps them for information. Was their father still alive? Did they have any other brothers? Then, Joseph comes up with a plan. He will keep one of the brothers hostage, Simeon, and tells the other brothers to take the grain back home to Canaan, but to return with their little brother Benjamin and Joseph would give them more grain.

The brothers go back home and tell their Dad, Jacob, what has happened and that they have to take Benjamin back with them to Egypt. Benjamin is the new favorite, the baby of the family, and so Jacob refuses to let them take him. He’s already lost Joseph (or so he thinks) and he’s not about to let Benjamin out of his sight. The brothers know Joseph’s terms – that there will be no more grain without Benjamin, so they stay in Canaan until they start starving again and Jacob relents.

So, the brothers take Benjamin with them back to Egypt to buy more grain. And when Joseph sees his baby brother Benjamin, he is overcome with emotion. He manages to hide it, so the brothers are still clueless. Joseph decides to mess with them a little more. He fills their bags with grain only he slips his own silver cup in Benjamin’s pack so it looks like Benjamin has stolen it. Then, Joseph sends his steward after them. They are seized and Benjamin’s bag is opened up. Aha! There’s the silver cup. They are hauled back to Egypt and they cry aloud, “Is God punishing us for what we did to Joseph so long ago?” (I don’t know about God, but Joseph sure seems to have something to do with it.) They go on and on about their guilt, even when they’re right before Joseph who understands everything they’re saying.

Finally, Joseph can’t stand the masquerade anymore. He orders all the Egyptians out of the room so that he’s alone with his brothers. He’s crying so loudly that everyone can hear him sobbing, including the Egyptians who are listening at the door, and he says to his brothers, “I am Joseph!” The brothers are stunned. (How they could not recognize him is odd, but these brothers don’t seem to be the brightest bulbs in the box.) The first thing Joseph wants to know is, “How is my father?”

Think about all that Joseph has been through. It’s hard for me to relate to this massive injustice that he has suffered at the hands of his brothers. Sold into slavery, declared dead, and forgotten, left to fend for himself, alone in a strange land for years and years. I doubt many of us have experienced anything like this kind of betrayal in our lives. At least I hope not. But if you had, how do you think you might respond should the tables be turned and you suddenly find yourself reunited with your oppressors, only this time with all the power, all the status, all the privilege. I can guess how I would respond. I day dream about telling off the protestors at the pride parade. I can only imagine how I might respond if I were Joseph! How would you respond?

Let me read to you how Joseph responds in Genesis 45:4-:

“I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. ⁵And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. ⁶For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. ⁷God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. ⁸So it was not you who sent me here, but God;

And he tells them to go get their father and to come back and settle in Egypt; that he will provide for them and they will never come to poverty. And he kisses his brothers and they collapse in tears in each other’s arms.

Next week we will return once again to Joseph’s story. In the meantime, consider – where do you find yourself in this story? Are you someone who has faced great adversity in your life? Maybe you’re facing it right now. Are you someone who has been betrayed, abandoned, or victimized by the hurtful acts of others? Have you betrayed another? With the help of God, have you been able to recover from setbacks that have come your way? Or are you still floundering, trying to get your life going in a positive direction?

Whoever you are, wherever you are on your journey, maybe God is still speaking through the events of your life.

Amen.

"Joseph: Sold Into Slavery" August 7, 2011

2011-08-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

Joseph: Sold Into Slavery

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

August 7, 2011

Text: Genesis 37

Our lectionary text for today begins the story of Joseph and his brothers. As Barbara Brown Taylor says, it may be the most satisfying tale in all of Hebrew scripture. “With a plot worthy of Shakespeare, it has everything in it: passion, foreign intrigue, reversal, revenge.” (Taylor). In fact, it’s such a good story that we’re going to spend at least two weeks on it, maybe even three. And for those visual learners out there, we’ll begin with a film clip from the Broadway show, “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” to provide a quick recap of the part of the story which is our focus today (and the words go by fast, so the lyrics are provided in your bulletin.) “Poor, Poor Joseph” tells the story of the golden boy, Joseph (played by Donny Osmond!) Joseph is the favorite of his father, Jacob, and therefore the object of resentment from his brothers. Our scripture for today and the film clip is of Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers. [clip]

Maybe you can’t remember how the story of Joseph turns out. Let me just say -spoiler alert! - that through all the adversity Joseph faces, he blossoms like some ancient Cinderella. Sold into slavery by his jealous half-brothers, he winds up ruler of Egypt. But we’ll get to all that soon enough.

As I said, the words to “Poor, Poor Joseph” went by fast and as good as the lyrics are, they’re no substitute for the Bible, so let’s go back and look at this story a bit closer. We begin reading in Genesis chapter 37. We’ll be looking at the entire chapter, though we won’t read every single verse. I’ll summarize portions as we go along.

The chapter begins with telling the story of Jacob, Joseph’s father. It is within the story of Jacob that the story of Joseph unfolds. Joseph is a teenager, a shepherd helping his four older brothers out in the field. We begin reading in v. 3:

Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children,

Jacob is also known as Israel, so this is saying that of all his sons, Jacob had a favorite, Joseph. Joseph is the baby of the family and Jacob loves him the most. Back to verse 3:

Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he had made him a long robe with sleeves.

Jacob’s favoritism was no secret. He even made him a coat. Our version describes it, not as a coat of many colors, but as a “long robe with sleeves.” (Maybe it had many colors, too!) This coat, we are told, had “long sleeves.” That is meant to describe a tunic that extends to the wrists and the ankles, as opposed to a shorter one. The point is that this was not what a working man wore. It was a garment of privilege and status. Verse 4:

⁴But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.

I’ve known some families in which one child is favored above all the others and, in my experience, shall we say it doesn’t go well. Jacob’s family is no different. Jacob’s favoritism of Joseph is an obvious source of conflict in the family. And honestly, Joseph doesn’t handle his role with much humility. Back to verse 5:

Once Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him even more. ⁶He said to them, “Listen to this dream that I dreamed. ⁷There we were, binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright; then your sheaves gathered around it, and bowed down to my sheaf. ”⁸His brothers said to him, “Are you indeed to reign over us? Are you indeed to have dominion over us?” So they hated him even more because of his dreams and his words.

At best, Joseph shows a lack of tact here. “I had a dream that you will all bow down to me!” Really, Joseph? It’s also significant that this dream involves sheaves of wheat. Later in the story, wheat comes back into play. In verses 9-11, Joseph has another dream that he tells to his brothers. Suffice to say that it’s more of the same. Joseph seems to be afflicted with the sort of pride often apparent among the favored. He is so focused on how great his dreams are for him, he doesn’t begin to consider how the dreams will sound to others. We’ll pick up reading in v. 12:

Now his brothers went to pasture their father’s flock near Shechem. ¹³And Israel said to Joseph, “Are not your brothers pasturing the flock at Shechem? Come, I will send you to them.” He answered, “Here I am.” ¹⁴So he said to him, “Go now, see if it is well with your brothers and with the flock; and bring word back to me.” So he sent him from the valley of Hebron.

Honestly, does Jacob violate every rule of good parenting? Not only does he favor one son and make no secret about it, but then he sends the favored baby brother out to check up on his big brothers. Really Jacob? And it turns out, for all Joseph’s self-confidence and dreams of lording it over everyone else, Joe is not great with directions and he gets lost. We’ll pick it up right before v. 15:

He came to Shechem, ¹⁵and a man found him wandering in the fields; the man asked him, “What are you seeking?” ¹⁶“I am seeking my brothers,” he said; “tell me, please, where they are pasturing the flock.” ¹⁷The man said, “They have gone away, for I heard them say, ‘Let us go to Dothan.’“ So Joseph went after his brothers, and found them at Dothan.¹⁸

So Joseph wanders lost until this stranger has mercy on him and helps him find his way. And that’s the last good thing that will happen to Joseph for quite a while. I’ll summarize the next few verses. The brothers see Joseph coming from a distance and they say, “Here comes the dreamer!” (and it’s not a complement. Maybe it wasn’t so wise for Joseph to share his dreams so freely.) They decide to let him know what they think of his dreams by killing him.

One of the brothers, Rueben, doesn’t like the way things are going, so he persuades them not to kill Joseph, but to throw him in a pit instead. Then later, Reuben can return Joseph to his father. While this sounds great, wouldn’t it have been better if Reuben had said, “This is wrong! Let’s not do this!” Instead he plays along enough that the plan continues to toss Joseph into the pit. Let’s pick up the reading in v. 23:

So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore; ²⁴and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it. ²⁵Then they sat down to eat;

The heartless character of the brothers is so apparent here. They’ve just taken a boy and thrown him in a pit to die and they could then sit down nearby and eat a meal. They could sit down and enjoy food while their hearts were bent on murdering their brother. Back to v. 25:

and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt. ²⁶Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? ²⁷Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers agreed. ²⁸When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.

Should we think more highly of Joseph’s brothers because they decided to spare his life or less highly of them because they figured they could get rid of him and make a few bucks at the same time? Historically, there was a lively slave trade between Canaan and Egypt and the brothers decide to cash in and sell Joseph into slavery. Back to verse 29:

²⁹When Reuben returned to the pit and saw that Joseph was not in the pit, he tore his clothes. ³⁰He returned to his brothers, and said, “The boy is gone; and I, where can I turn?”

Reuben tore his clothes as an expression of utter horror and mourning. Things had not gone as Rueben planned. His weak stand for doing the right thing accomplished nothing. Joseph may as well be dead, because his father who loved him so would never see him again. Continuing with verse 31:

³¹Then they took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat, and dipped the robe in the blood. ³²They had the long robe with sleeves taken to their father, and they said, “This we have found; see now whether it is your son’s robe or not.” ³³He recognized it, and said, “It is my son’s robe! A wild animal has devoured him; Joseph is without doubt torn to pieces.”

These brothers, the sons of Israel, are cruel men. Their resentment is apparently not only directed at the favored son, Joseph, but also at the father who favored him. This was a heartless way to bring the news to their father, as well as an unconscionable lie. Verse 34:

³⁴Then Jacob tore his garments, and put sackcloth on his loins, and mourned for his son many days. ³⁵All his sons and all his daughters sought to comfort him; but he refused to be comforted, and said, “No, I shall go down to Sheol to my son, mourning.” Thus his father bewailed him.

This is a powerful illustration of the principle that if we believe something to be so, then it might as well be. Joseph was not dead, but as long as Jacob believed he was, then as far as Jacob is concerned, Joseph is dead. And Jacob responds with understandable grief. (Reader seated)

Though our lectionary passage ends here, it is difficult to stop here and sit with this part of the story. There is real betrayal. Real human jeopardy. Real weeping. And did you notice that not a single time in this entire narrative is God mentioned. Amidst the injustice done to Joseph – God is silent. And we don’t have to go back thousands of years to know what that feels like. We might feel like Joseph in the pit, alone, betrayed by those who should have loved us. Or perhaps we can uncomfortably admit to understanding some of the brother’s resentment toward a tattletale brat who thinks he’s better than the rest of the family. Jacob’s family quarrel seems to live in every age.

Our story ends for today with Joseph sold into slavery, on his way to Egypt. And in the context of that family’s struggles and Joseph’s suffering, the question of “why?” arises, not just for Joseph, but for us, for our struggles and our suffering, too. Today’s ending, which leaves us on that frightening journey to Egypt, alone and with no hope in sight, leaves us too with the questions of meaning and of God’s presence, of God’s intention amid betrayal and despair, not just for Joseph, but for us all.

And so we wait until next week for the story to continue. Perhaps all appears to be lost, but for

Joseph and for us, there is so much more to the story.

Amen.

"Making Miracles" July 31, 2011

2011-08-17T10:54:00.000-07:00

Making Miracles

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

July 31, 2011

Text: Matthew 14:13-21

^13"Now when Jesus heard this,"

As this passage begins, Jesus has just heard some devastating news. Someone very close to Jesus has been violently killed – John the Baptist, the prophet, the man who had baptized Jesus, the man who had devoted his entire life to preparing the way for Jesus. This passage does not provide the details of John’s death, but elsewhere we learn that John had been beheaded at the whim of a dancing girl, a senseless and sad murder.

"Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns."

It is not only Jesus who is devastated. John’s death is a vivid reminder to Jesus and everyone else that God’s prophets were not immune to death, and if anything, they were more likely to die violently than quietly, sooner rather than later. You can imagine the sorrow and fear they felt. And just as we sometimes do when we are frightened or sad, Jesus withdraws and the crowd who loves Jesus, follows.

¹⁴"When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick."

Jesus may have needed some alone time, but the crowd had needs of their own. Many were sick and they reached out to Jesus in hope. And Jesus put his own needs aside and responded to them. His heart went out to them and he spent the afternoon walking among them, laying his hands on them and saying the things they needed to hear.

¹⁵"When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”

The disciples mean no harm. They’re not insensitive jerks. They are simply being practical. Night was falling, they were out in the middle of nowhere and their stomachs were beginning to growl. It was time to call it a day; time to build a campfire and eat the little bit of food they had brought with them. It was time to take care of themselves for a change and suggest that everyone else do the same.

¹⁶"Jesus said to them, 'They need not go away;'"

Jesus has a better idea. “Don’t send them away.” Maybe he knows that what the crowd needs more than a hot meal is simply to stay together; the nourishment they will receive from each other’s company being more important than the meager meal they might be able to find elsewhere. Sometimes after very bad news, it doesn’t matter what you eat as long as you eat it with someone.

¹⁶"Jesus said to them, 'They need not go away; you give them something to eat.' ¹⁷They replied, 'We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.'”

Can’t you just picture the looks on their faces when they heard Jesus say, “You give them something to eat.” Us? You are in charge here, you’re the boss. All the food we have is hardly enough for a snack for twelve hungry men, never mind five thousand people out there. No disrespect intended, but you’re nuts.

¹⁸"And he said, 'Bring the loaves and fish here to me.' ¹⁹Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. ²⁰And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. ²¹And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children."

(Reader seated.)

Before we get started, let me just say that that last part about the women and children not even being counted in the total number irritates me, but that’s a sermon for another day!

Each one of the gospel writers – Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – records the life of Jesus differently. Decades after Jesus’ death, each one picked and chose from all the stories that circulated about Jesus and decided which to include, and what to emphasize when they told the story. Only Matthew and Luke write anything at all about Jesus’ birth. Mark and John don’t mention it.

But one story that all four gospel writers included in their Gospels is this story about the miraculous feeding of the five thousand. (This is one of only three stories that can be found in all four gospels.) For whatever reason, this story was too important to the early church to leave out. We can speculate about what made it so important to the early church. It certainly carries echoes of Old Testament stories that the Jews who followed Jesus held dear, such as God providing manna in the desert to the wandering Israelites. Bread was an important symbol to them, a reminder of God’s constant provision. And in the early church, after Jesus had been killed and was no longer tangibly present to them, you can understand why they held onto this story about Jesus’ ability to miraculously provide for their needs.

So this morning’s miracle story is one in a series of bread miracles in the Bible, and an impressive one if we take it at face value. Feeding five thousand men (plus women and children – let’s hope they gave them something to eat too!) with five loaves and two fish is pretty amazing. And some believe that’s exactly what happened – that when someone tore off a bit of bread, the loaf magically grew to compensate or that suddenly new loaves appeared; that Jesus pulled the two little fish out of the bag and tossed it to the ground and when he looked back down suddenly there was a whole pile of fish where the empty bag used to be.

Others understand this story not literally, but metaphorically. In other words, Jesus didn’t do a supernatural magic trick like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Rather, that this was a beloved story that early followers of Jesus told to one another to reinforce their belief that Jesus would always provide.

Maybe you are someone who believes that Jesus performed supernatural miracles, acts that do not conform to the laws of science as we understand them. Or maybe Jesus’ miracles have scientific explanations that the gospel writers just didn’t understand. Or maybe you’re someone who is completely skeptical about such things. Sure, you’d like to believe, but all these stories of Jesus’ miracles sound like a bunch of hooey to you.

No matter where you fall on that continuum of understanding, I believe profound truth is found in this story. And that truth is not dependent on its literal interpretation. It is our loss if we discount the power of this story just because we don’t believe in miracles.

Consider this possibility: When Jesus told the disciples to feed the masses five loaves and two fish, could he have had a sense of the situation that went beyond the disciples’ common sense? They were, after all, operating out of a sense of scarcity. They looked at the crowd, saw no picnic baskets or backpacks, and assumed that no one had anything to eat. They looked at their own meager resources and assumed that it was not enough to go around their own circle, much less to feed the whole crowd.

But Jesus operated on a different set of assumptions. If the disciples operated out of a sense of scarcity, Jesus embodied a sense of plenty. He looked at the same things the disciples looked at, but where they saw not enough, he saw plenty: plenty of time, plenty of food, and plenty of possibilities with the resources at hand. Not that he knew how it was all going to work out exactly, but what Jesus knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that wherever there was plenty of God, there would be plenty of everything needed.

And though it seemed like Jesus was promising so much with so little, the bewildered disciples handed over all they had, touched by Jesus’ simple confidence that it would be enough. And after they’d laid out the loaves and fish, they remembered the bits of food they carried in their pockets. You know they had something, had tucked away a bit of food before they left on their journey to a lonely place, apart. They knew they would need to eat at some point, and so isn’t it likely that they brought a few raisins, a chunk of bread left over from breakfast, that little piece of goat jerky. Wouldn’t you have done that? It wouldn’t have been enough for everyone, so you’d keep it hidden in your pocket.

Perhaps the disciples did just that. And as the basket of bread came by, wanting, as they did for the people to be fed, instead of taking something out, they laid their food in the basket. And seeing the disciples emptying their pockets, the crowd followed suit and offered what they had, so that the meal grew and grew.

But that’s not a miracle! Is that what you’re thinking? That’s just people being generous, sharing what they have, even when it’s not much, even when it’s not enough to go around. That’s not a miracle. That’s just a whole crowd of people moving from a sense of scarcity to a sense of plenty – overcoming their fear of going hungry, giving up their need to protect themselves. That’s not a miracle. That’s just people refusing to play the age old game of what-is-mine-is –mine and what’s-your-is-yours, people turning their pockets inside out for one another without worrying about what’s in it for them. That’s not a miracle! Or is it?

As Barbara Brown Taylor says, the problem with miracles is that we tend to get mesmerized by God’s part of things and forget about our own. Miracles let us off the hook. They become Bible stories that we’ve heard but we don’t really believe anymore. They appeal to the part of us that is all too happy to let God feed the crowd, save the world, do it all. We can’t do it, after all. We don’t have what it takes, the small things we can offer are not enough to make any difference at all. So we sit back and wait for a miracle, looking after our own needs and looking at God to help those who cannot help themselves. All those needy people? Send them away so they can take care of themselves!

“They need not go away,” Jesus says. “You give them something to eat.” Not me, but you. Not my bread but yours. Not sometime or somewhere else, but right here, right now. Stop looking for someone else to solve your problem and solve it yourself. Stop waiting for a miracle and participate in one instead.

And that challenge continues through the ages from Jesus to us. However much you have, just bring it and trust that it is enough to begin with, enough to start a trend. Be the first in the crowd to turn your pockets inside out. Be the first to start a miracle.

Amen. So-be-it.

Barbara Brown Taylor’s sermon “The Problem with Miracles” was used as a resource for this sermon.

"The Crazy Farmer" July 10, 2011

2011-08-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

The Parable of the Sower

Rev. Lee Ann Bryce

Community Christian Church

July 10, 2011

Matthew 13:1-9

We remember Jesus as a great teacher, but how did he communicate his message? Think about it, he rarely preached sermons. He didn’t teach Bible studies. No structured classes for his listeners. Much of the time, he told stories, he told parables. His parables were little fictional stories whose characters were in situations that were familiar to his listeners. He told parables about farmers, or people who were concerned with money, or family member interacting with one another.

Something else characterized his parables – they always had a surprising twist to them. They might start out predictable enough, but at some point they’d veer off into some strange, often shocking direction. This was a technique he used. It made his stories memorable because they were surprising to his audience.

Often we read the parables and they become familiar to us so we don’t really listen to them anymore. They become these nice little stories and we end up completely missing the edge. Also, because we are in such a different context than his original listeners, we may not really get what the story says. We’ve never seen a mustard seed or tended sheep or been so concerned with a lost coin that we’d turn the house upside down looking for it.

The parable of the sower would have been a surprising story to those who heard it from his mouth. Jesus told this story (along with several other short little parables in the 13^th chapter of Matthew) in order to put forth a picture of the kingdom of God. That’s what Jesus taught about – the kingdom of God. He was concerned with a different reality than they knew and almost everything he did was in order to put forth an idea of the kind of world that God wanted, God’s kingdom, on earth as it is in heaven.

What was shocking about the parable of the sower? I don’t believe many of us are farmers, however, I know we have a fair amount of gardeners among us, people who understand the principles of seed and ideal conditions and working toward an orderly and abundant harvest. Let’s say you have some vegetables in your garden, even a few tomatoes or peppers, maybe some herbs. When you went to put your garden in, did you go about it in the same way as the sower in Jesus’ parable did? Did you just go outside with a handful of seed and start throwing it everywhere? On the sidewalk, over in the weed patch, maybe a little bit in the street just for good measure?

I doubt it. If you started from seed at all, it was probably carefully sewn in tiny pots with perfect soil, started inside, maybe under artificial light, so that the little seedlings would be protected from the cold until they were hearty enough to thrive outside. It’s probably more likely you started with small plants, and before you put them in the ground, you carefully considered where would be the perfect spot, where they’d get the right amount of sun and water, where the dog wouldn’t stomp all over them. These are the things that sensible, responsible gardeners (and farmers) do. Seed is precious and you don’t want to waste it where it won’t do well, right?

We’re different from Jesus’ listeners. We do gardening for a hobby. We enjoy beautiful flowers or it appeals to us to add some cherry tomatoes or strawberries fresh from our garden into our meals. Our lives don’t depend upon a good crop. Remember Jesus’ followers were peasants, many of them farmers whose very lives depended on a good harvest. What would their response have been to this story? This story in which the crazy, irresponsible farmer just threw the seed everywhere? Seed was like gold! It was treated with utmost care, never squandered.

In Jesus’ story, the seed falls everywhere. Sometimes it gets snatched away. Sometimes it dies in shallow soil or gets choked out by thorns. Sometimes it grows, and when it does, the harvest is more plentiful than anyone could imagine.

Listen to what Jesus does not say. Never once does he mention soil analysis. His farmer is not concerned with viability. There is not the faintest hint that the sower considers the nature of the soil as he flings the seed, letting it fly scattershot in every direction.

Beneath this story of the crazy farmer is an assumption of abundance that must have been so foreign to Jesus’ listeners, just as it is foreign to us. In the Parable of the Sower, there is seed enough to lose. Grace is flung and wasted everywhere. Is this story an invitation to carelessness? Or might Jesus be saying something about the kingdom of God is about a radical trust in the abundance that God provides? That the joyful farmer is free to sow and share, trusting that the harvest is assured?

Our job may be simply to scatter the seeds we have in our hands, those seeds entrusted to us as our gifts, letting go of our desire to control the outcome, without carefully judging whether the result will be favorable or not.

For me, a minister, it means bringing my best to my work, day after day, despite the times it’s difficult for me to see if my work really makes any difference. For teachers, it means caring about investing in those students who don’t seem like they care or are getting it. For parents, it’s about the realization that your words and actions make a difference to your kids even if it appears they’re not paying attention.

The kingdom of God is a place where all of us keep doing our little piece of what we do in the world to continue the work of Christ. We keep flinging that seed even if it seems that the harvest won’t ever get here. The harvest, the result of our effort isn’t up to us at all. Jesus has put before us the kingdom of God. A kingdom of abundance and radical trust. God has invited each of us to be partners in bringing about this kingdom.

What seeds do you hold in your hand? How is God calling you to sow them?

(Responsive Psalm 65)

Soil Analysis

I am not a knowledgeable gardener, like many here. But there’s one thing I have learned – things go better when I have invested time in preparing the soil, turning it over, adding some material to loosen and nourish it.

As we prepare our hearts to gather around the table of Christ, to offer ourselves and to share in the bread and cup, the sustenance that Christ offers us, take a moment to reflect on yourself. How open are you to the presence of God? As the seeds of God’s unconditional love and acceptance and hope and peace are cast toward you, how will you receive them?

We hunger today for truth, for authenticity, for the deeper meaning of life. We move toward these things as we tend to your connection with God. Just as the gardener prepares the soil, so we do well to take time to examine ourselves, to prepare our hearts to receive all that God offers to us. No matter the circumstances of our lives, we may trust that seeds of wellbeing and love and peace are always headed our way.