reallifepastor

Tuesday night, I attended a panel discussion at the Carter Center: “Combating Violence and Discrimination against Women and Girls and Promoting Peace.” Four people made up the panel, three women—a medical doctor from Libya, an attorney from Nigeria, and an international worker, originally from Iran—and … President Carter.

As we waited for the discussion to begin, I sensed a stir about 20 feet away. Then I saw the tall guy with the wire coming out of his ear. Secret Service. It was Rosalynn!  And no, I didn’t get a picture.  The opportunity passed while I was trying to find my phone.

A few minutes later — another stir.  Before I knew it, President Carter had passed by.  Again–no picture.  I did get a picture once the panel seated on stage.  They were up there for an hour and a half.  That’s about how long it takes for me to take a picture.  🙂

The conversation began with some thoughts from President Carter.  President Carter was born in south Georgia in 1924.  It is remarkable that this man, who was raised in a racist, sexist society grew up to write a book advocating strongly for justice for women around the globe. “This is going to be the highest priority for the rest of my life,” he said this week.  He’s 90.

The other remarkable thing Tuesday night was just how mentally sharp President Carter is.  He is brilliant.  And kind.  And firm in his commitment to human rights.  He’s also a humble man.  He welcomed his three stage mates as equal partners in the conversation.  Every time he spoke…I just wished all of us–meaning every single person on the planet–could sit at President Carter’s feet and listen to him talk.  Such wisdom!  Such compassion!  So much to teach us about making the world a better place.

Much too soon Tuesday night, the conversation was over.  The Secret Service whisked President Carter out.  Again, he passed, like, 5 feet away from me.  Again, I missed the shot.  I missed shaking his hand.  But I did see his face.  He’d been such a vibrant presence on stage!  I was surprised to see how frail he seems.  He and Rosalynn both are quite spry for their ages. But their bodies– as bodies do– are shrinking, weakening.

As I frantically searched for my phone that last time, it hit me:  in the not too distant future, the Carters will be gone.  It is the natural course of things that people are born, they live, they die.  Still–the thought shocked me.  A world without the Carters?  That’s not a world I can imagine.  How will we be able to keep going without the Carters?  You say the name Jimmy or Rosalynn Carter and immediately think–human rights.  Who’s going to do that important work after Jimmy and Rosalynn pass on?

Tuesday night, I think I got a glimpse of what Elisha must have been feeling that last day of Elijah’s life. Elijah was the guy, right?  THE prophet.  The one who’d been mentoring Elisha, teaching him, training him to carrying on the important work of justice after Elijah died.

As the two walk along, Elijah tells Elisha to stay, that it’s time for him (Elijah) to move on.  Elisha says:  “As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.”  When they arrive in Bethel, the people there say, “Today, Elijah will die.”  Elisha responds:  “Yes, I know.  I don’t want to hear it.”  He and Elijah move on to Jericho.  Elijah says, “Stay here.  I’m moving on.”  Elisha says:  “I’m not going.” The people in Jericho say, “Today is the day Elijah will leave you.”  Again, Elisha doesn’t want to hear it.

Finally, Elijah and Elisha reach the Jordan.  At the river’s edge, Elijah removes his teacher’s mantle, rolls it up, and hits the water.  The two prophets cross over on dry ground.

On the far side, Elijah asks Elisha what he can give him before he goes.  “A double share of your spirit,” the young prophet says.  His mentor responds with the most important words in this story:  “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.”

So, Elisha will receive a double share of Elijah’s spirit if and only if he watches Elijah’s departure.  If Elisha doesn’t watch–and acknowledge–Elijah’s departure, he will not receive the double share of Elijah’s spirit and, thus, will not become a prophet in his own right.

It’s so easy to cling to our mentors, isn’t it?  It’s easy to assume we can never be the person they are or do the good they do.  Is there another Jimmy Carter in the world? Or Rosalynn Carter? Or Desmond Tutu? …Or Jon Stewart? J What will we do when Jimmy, Rosalynn, Desmond, and Jon….are gone?  How will the work of human rights continue?

The answer is simple, right?  We take up the mantle.  We continue the work they started.  We keep it going.  And eventually, we hand the work over to the next generation.

I know that’s no great insight.  You knew I was going to say that.  We know what to do as our mentors in faith and in the work of justice move on.  But knowing what to do and doing it are two different things, aren’t they?  Elisha knew what was going to happen that day; he knew Elijah would be leaving…but he didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to do the hard work of grieving.  Who does, right? Grieving is hard. It hurts.

Because of Elisha’s reticence, Elijah, wise teacher that he was, knew Elisha needed to watch him leave.  Elisha needed to see that Elijah’s departure was real–okay, as real as it could be with flaming chariots swooping down out of the sky J ….  If Elisha didn’t see Elijah’s departure, he couldn’t grieve the loss.  And if Elisha didn’t grieve the loss of his mentor, he could never move past it.  And if he didn’t move past Elijah’s departure, Elisha never would be able to carry on the important work to which he (Elisha) was called.

We’re told that “as they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. ¹²Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces”… a sign of grieving.  Elisha watched Elijah’s departure–something he was unlikely to forget.  Ever!  And he grieved.

So, did he receive a double share of Elijah’s spirit?  Listen: ¹³He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. ¹⁴He took the mantle of Elijah…and struck the water, saying, “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over. ¹⁵When the company of prophets who were at Jericho saw him at a distance, they declared, “The spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha.” They came to meet him and bowed to the ground before him.

The text doesn’t say specifically that Elisha received a double share of Elijah’s spirit, but he did receive enough of a share that the company of prophets back on the other side of the Jordan acknowledged him as their leader. Elisha was now ready to carry on the work begun by Elijah…and the thing that helped prepare him to take up the mantle, was letting his mentor go. Watching Elijah leave, flying away in that fiery chariot, letting the one who had taught him so much about faith and justice and life go….that’s what made it possible for Elisha to continue his mentor’s work. And to grow into his own.

My new guitar makes her debut today. Her name is Petey. I know. I’m 50 years old. Aren’t I past the age of naming inanimate objects? And let’s face it: I’m no B. B. King. J Here’s why I named the guitar Petey. When I got home from picking her out, Allen reminded that it was the first anniversary of Pete Seeger’s death—January 27th. Pete Seeger believed, he really believed, that people singing together could create world peace. I’m no Pete Seeger, but I decided that day to do what I can to use Petey to bring people together in song.

And so on this her debut, she’s going to help us sing together: “Alleluia! The Great Storm Is Over,” by Bob Franke.   Bob is a singer-songwriter who did some time in seminary. I think he got out after a year for good behavior. I was in seminary 4 years. Make of that what you will. J

You’ll hear a lot of biblical imagery in the verses, which I’ll sing. “Sweetness in the air and justice on the wind; laughter in the house where the mourners have been. The deaf shall have music, the blind have new eyes. The standards of death taken down by surprise. Release for the captives, an end to the wars. New streams in the desert, new hope for the poor. The little lame children will dance as they sing and play with the bears and the lions in spring.” See what I mean? Very prophetic. Very hopeful.

About the phrase “little lame child.” That’s not a phrase we’d be likely to use today. Back in 1982 when Bob wrote the song, he chose the term specifically to refer to his young daughter, who had been diagnosed with a debilitating bone disease. It’s the word he wants used in the song…and so that’s the word we’ll use.

The chorus of the song—which I’ll invite you to join me on—is a wonderful invitation to us to let our loved ones go— even mentors who fly to heaven in fiery chariots, even former presidents and first ladies who work for human rights. Because, as Elijah knew, saying goodbye to our mentors is necessary before we can take up their mantles and continue the important work of justice. And continuing the important work of justice, the crucial work of acting others into well-being….as people of faith, that is what we are called to do.

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  (C) 2015

2 Kings 2:1-15

2Now when the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. ²Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here; for the Lord has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel. ³The company of prophets who were in Bethel came out to Elisha, and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he said, “Yes, I know; keep silent.” ⁴Elijah said to him, “Elisha, stay here; for the Lord has sent me to Jericho.” But he said, “As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they came to Jericho. ⁵The company of prophets who were at Jericho drew near to Elisha, and said to him, “Do you know that today the Lord will take your master away from you?” And he answered, “Yes, I know; be silent.” ⁶Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here; for the Lord has sent me to the Jordan.” But he said, “As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them went on. ⁷Fifty men of the company of prophets also went, and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. ⁸Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground.

⁹When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” ¹⁰He responded, “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” ¹¹As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. ¹²Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.

¹³He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. ¹⁴He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, “Where is the Lord, the God of Elijah?” When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over. ¹⁵When the company of prophets who were at Jericho saw him at a distance, they declared, “The spirit of Elijah rests on Elisha.” They came to meet him and bowed to the ground before him.

I don’t get ISIS. At all. I can’t comprehend such disregard for the dignity of human life. I can’t imagine the devastating impact on the victims of the atrocities ISIS is committing. I don’t want to live in a world where people can do such horrific things to each other.

But that’s not something I get to choose. We do live in a world where people are tortured and killed, where girls are kidnapped from schools and forced into marriage or prostitution, where young people are radicalized and turned into killing machines.

What is a person of faith to do?

Yesterday, I listened in on a Carter Center webinar conversation addressing women’s rights. One of the women, Sanam Naraghi-Anderlini, an international worker, said that, as an international community, we must learn to recognize and honor humanity’s rich diversity, we must learn to honor the dignity of every human being.

That’s the message of this week’s story from Genesis about the (rain)bow God places in the sky after Noah’s ark lands on Mt. Ararat. “When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth,” God says in 9:16. God’s love and protection extend to all living creatures.

The atrocities happening around the globe are overwhelming. This seems so small, so simple…but perhaps the best thing I, as an individual, can do is to love all living things I encounter today with the same fierceness that God loves them. If I do that, and if you do that, and if a few other people do that, perhaps, just maybe, we’ll begin to make a difference.

Previously on “As the Gospel Turns,” Jesus was baptized by John, battled his demons in the wilderness, called some disciples, went to the synagogue to teach, and, while there, healed a demon-possessed man.  Not a bad showing for a newly-minted Messiah.

Having put in a full day’s work, Jesus and his new “peeps”—the brothers, Simon and Andrew, and the other brothers, James and John — head over to Simon and Andrew’s house for some of that falafel Simon’s mother-in-law is so famous for…except that, when they get to the house, Simon’s mother-in-law is sick in bed with a fever.  All of Simon’s relatives–perhaps some of them had been at synagogue that day and had seen Jesus heal that demon-possessed man–tell Jesus about the illness.  Jesus heals the ailing woman and she begins serving them.

Then, that evening at sundown, Mark says “they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons.  And the whole city was gathered around the door.”  The whole city was gathered around the door!  Can you imagine?  Now, 1st century Capernaum wasn’t a city like Atlanta is a city.  I doubt there were 6 million people gathered around Simon’s door…but at the end of a long day, it might have felt like 6 million.

“The whole city was gathered around the door…” Take a minute to picture that…. They’re trying to have a little supper that Simon’s mom-in-law has joyfully created when they hear murmuring outside the door.  Simon goes to investigate (he’s always first) and discovers a large crowd–people with bent bodies, people walking around talking to themselves (remember, this was before cell phones), people with dead expressions on their faces, people with emaciated bodies, holding out crude cups for a contribution.

The whole city gathered around the door, because they needed healing.  Because they’d heard that Jesus could heal people.  Because they were desperate to be made whole.

Do you ever feel like the whole city–or the whole world–is gathered around your door?  Of course, with the internet, we’re able to bring the needs of the world inside, past the door and into our home.  Do you ever get overwhelmed?  Does it ever feel like there is SO MUCH to be done in the world, so many people who need helping, so many people who need healing—the impoverished, those suffering from AIDS and ebola, victims of human trafficking, bullying, racism, discrimination in all its forms, women across the globe whose personhood constantly is denied…   Do you ever feel helpless in the face of so much need?

Mark doesn’t tell us how Jesus felt when he learned about all those people at the front door.  Mark only tells us that Jesus healed them.  He healed their bodies.  He healed their minds.  He healed their spirits.  The people needed help; they needed healing.  Jesus gave it to him.

How many of you have helped with Family Promise this week?  Based on what I’m hearing, it’s been a good experience, not just for the families, but for the volunteers.  It feels good to help others, doesn’t it?  Oh, sure…when we let ourselves think about all the other homeless families in Cobb County who aren’t in Family Promise, we can get overwhelmed…but helping the families who are in it right now?  It just feels good to do something, doesn’t it?

So why not do it all the time?  Why not host every week?  Oh, wouldn’t Camilla be grateful!  Wouldn’t those families!  Just think how many more families we could help if each congregation hosted families every week of the year!  So, why not host all the time?  (Responses)

One of the brilliant aspects of Family Promise is the tiny level of commitment it involves.  To participate, all you need to do is a cook one meal, or spend a couple hours setting up, or stay over one night.  With everyone working together, the workload isn’t overwhelming.  And hosting only four weeks a year helps us use our resources wisely.

If we opened a shelter for homeless families… I guess we could do that….but if we did, we would seriously have to reconsider our mission… because, currently, our mission is to be a church, not a homeless shelter.  “We seek to grow in worship, serving, and learning, as a faithful people of God, bringing hope, comfort and friendship to all, welcoming everyone in Christ.”  If we focused only on serving, we’d be doing a good thing, but we wouldn’t be fulfilling our stated mission.  I’m also guessing we’d get tired.  We’d burn out.  After a while, we’d probably close the shelter down because we were just too tired to keep it going.

Jesus sees the needs of all those people at the door and he heals them…then the next morning–while it’s still dark–he goes out to a secluded place to pray.  Alone.  Perhaps he learned this during his 40 days in the wilderness—that the best thing to help you keep going in the work of acting the world into well-being, is to step away from it on occasion.  To stop.  And breathe.  And pray.

Several years back, Rev. Nancy Sehested preached here.  At the time, she served as Chaplain at a men’s maximum security prison in North Carolina.  At lunch the day she preached, I asked her how she could do what needed to be done day after day.  Her response?  “I have to begin each day with prayer.  If I don’t pray, I can’t make it.”

Jesus, too, knew that he wouldn’t make it without prayer.  He could see all the needs that cried out for his healing touch, but he knew he’d have no hope of meeting the needs of others if he didn’t take some time to tend to his own.

In a movie called Short Term 12, the title refers to a group home for children and teenagers who’ve been abused. Grace is one of the social workers who works with the kids in the home…and she works wonders with them. When they need boundaries set, she sets them. When the flashbacks come, she sits with the kids and comforts them. When they get discouraged, she en-courages them.

When a teenage girl is admitted to the home, Grace works her usual magic. She respects the girl’s defensiveness. She sets the appropriate boundaries. She removes all the sharp objects from Jayden’s room so that the girl won’t start cutting herself again. She listens when Jayden’s defenses finally begin to come down and the girl starts talking.

But even as she’s doing good work with the girl, Grace spirals down into confusion, desperation. Her behavior becomes erratic. She accepts her boyfriend’s proposal of marriage, then reneges. She goes to visit Jayden’s house with a baseball bat intending to hurt Jayden’s abusive father. Instead, she bashes out the windows of his car.

Back at Short Term 12, Jayden begins cutting again. Grace takes her into the cool-down room to keep her safe. While they’re in the room, Grace shows Jayden her own cutting scars. It’s the first time she tells anyone about the abuse she suffered from her father.

That’s the point at which Grace knows she has to get help for her own wounds. She was able to help others for a time, and did so with great skill and compassion….but neglecting her own need for healing and renewal, she was only able to go so far. Without getting help for her own wounds, without taking time to care for her own spirit, she would have been able to help no one. In fact, she’d already begun making poor choices because the pain and exhaustion were weighing too heavily on her. Getting help, stepping away, taking care of her own spiritual, physical, and emotional needs, was necessary for Grace to continue helping those children, children who, like her, also needed spiritual, physical, and emotional healing.

Serving others, acting others into well-being—that’s the reason we’re here, isn’t it? We’re here to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give drink to the thirsty, visit the sick and imprisoned, welcome the stranger…as people of Christian faith, as followers of Jesus, if we’re not doing those things, we’ve missed the point.

But just because we’re called to do those things, doesn’t mean we’re called to do them 24/7. We don’t have to feed ALL the hungry or clothe ALL the naked or visit ALL the people who are imprisoned ALL the time.

And we’re not called to meet ALL the needs of the people we are able to help. Were you surprised to hear that when Jesus got up early to go off to a secluded place and pray, “Simon and his companions hunted for him?” Of course they did. I don’t have kids, but I imagine the first thing you hear after sinking down into a warm bubble bath is, “Mom!”

So, how does Jesus respond? “Go away!” I’m not saying that’s how I would respond if MY warm bubble bath was interrupted….but I’m pretty sure that’s how I would respond if my warm bubble bath were interrupted. But Jesus doesn’t do that. When Simon, et al, say, “Everyone is searching for you,” Jesus says, “Let’s go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came to do.” And Mark tells us that “he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues casting out demons.”

Jesus knew he couldn’t help everyone. His calling wasn’t to stay in Capernaum and see to the healing of every person there. His calling was to travel around and share the good news of God’s love with others. If he was to fulfill his calling, he was going to have to move on.

Sometimes, that’s our calling, too. We can’t help everyone. Feeling guilty about that fact doesn’t help anyone. Getting realistic about our limitations—that’s a good gift to everyone. Sometimes, acting others into well-being begins with seeing to our own. (“Precious Lord”)

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness. Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015

Mark 1:29-39

Last week, refreshed from 40 days of battling his demons in the wilderness, Jesus clarifies his mission and decides to get some help fulfilling it.  But without Monster.com, how was he going to find those helpers? I imagine Jesus walking down the beach pondering the matter when he sees a couple of fishing crews hard at it.  The light dawns. Why not?  It couldn’t hurt.  He takes a deep breath and yells: “Follow me!” Immediately, two men jump out of a boat and swim towards him.  Well, that was easy! If it worked once… “Follow me!” he calls a second time.  Two more men jump in and swim to shore.

Now what?  Five men on shore, four of them dripping water, beaming giddily at Jesus, ignoring the people on the boats yelling at them “to get back and help us!”?  Maybe Jesus broke the ice: “‘Sup?”  And maybe brothers Simon and Andrew, and the other brothers, James and John, gamely kept the conversation going “’Sup?” Then maybe they took a minute to friend each other on Facebook–isn’t that how following someone works? Maybe they Insta-grammed a group selfie.  Maybe Jesus tweeted:  “Four new peeps!  Andy, Jim Bob, John Boy, and the one who talks a lot.”

Or maybe–in the absence of smart phones– they simply stood there awkwardly waiting for someone to get the party started.  “Hey, Jesus!”  This would be Simon.  He always speaks first.  “Hey, Jesus!  So glad to be following you, man.  What’s our first assignment?  Where are we headed?”  Here’s what I imagine happening.  Mark doesn’t tell us–which is an invitation to imagine it, right?  Here’s what I imagine.  Simon says, “Hey, bro!  Where are we headed?” and Jesus shrugs and says, “I don’t know.  I’m new at this Messiah business.  What do you suggest?”

At that point, I imagine Simon and the others puzzling things out…until Simon says (he always speaks first), “I don’t know.  But I’ll tell you what.  If we go to Capernaum, which is just a few miles up the road, we can stay with my mother-in-law.  She makes some falafel to die for!  And she loves to cook for a crowd!”  So…

They head to Capernaum.  When the Sabbath rolls around, they walk the short distance to the synagogue.  Jesus starts teaching–it seems like a Messiah kind of thing to do.  I wish the Gospel writer had included Jesus’ lesson plan…because whatever Jesus did, the people who heard him were impressed.  “They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.”

Now that’s an intriguing line….because the scribes were the ones the community HAD authorized to teach.  Yet the people who heard Jesus–a carpenter from Nazareth with no official synagogue authority–said he taught with authority.  I wonder what that meant for them?  If not the religious establishment, then what, in their eyes, gave Jesus’ teaching authority?  Was it the way he talked, the things he talked about, the way he answered every question with another question? Maybe what happens next will give us a clue.

Jesus, his newly-enlisted peeps in tow, is doing his authoritative teaching thing when a man with an “unclean spirit, appears and cries 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.”  

In Mark’s Gospel, this is the first test of Jesus’ public ministry.  It couldn’t be something easy, like lining up a band for a bar mitzvah or teaching the teenagers in Sabbath School.  No, Jesus’ first test involves demon-possession. Interestingly, though—new Messiah or not—Jesus knows just what to do.  He rebukes the unclean spirit, tells it to come out of the man, and it does…which amazes the people. They “kept asking one another, ‘What is this?  A new teaching–with authority!  He commands unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

There’s that word again–authority.  They’d already said Jesus taught with authority, but when he heals the man with the unclean spirit, they underline it in red: AUTHORITY.

So, what is the source of that authority?  What did those synagogue-goers experience that day?  And how did Jesus know what to do when that broken man interrupted his lesson?

Recall where today’s story began. After his baptism by John in the Jordan River, Jesus immediately goes into the wilderness where he is tested for 40 days.  By whom is he tested?  By the devil, the sneaky one, his personal demons.

So maybe Jesus’ authority in healing this mentally and emotionally wounded man came from his own experience of healing from mental and emotional wounds.  Maybe Jesus knew what to do for a person battling demons because he was fresh from battling his own.

Okay. Time to name the elephant in the room. We scientifically-minded Christians don’t usually talk about demons, do we? And we sure don’t admit to having them. Demon-possession evokes images from movies like the “Exorcist,” not Sunday morning worship.

But remember — these stories we hear in the Gospel were written almost 2,000 years ago. We have so many things at our disposal in the 21^st century that were not available in the 1^st century. We have two millennia of study of the mind. We know about depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and post-traumtic stress disorder. We have doctors and therapists and psychologists and psychiatrists. We have pharmacology. J In the first century, without the benefit of these 20^th and 21^st century advances, the only language available was the language of demon-possession. Today we call it mental illness.

The second stanza of today’s hymn/anthem (#176) offers helpful language in describing mental illness from a faith perspective. Listen again to the words. “Christ, the demons still are thriving in the grey cells of the mind: Tyrant voices, shrill and driving, twisted thoughts that grip and bind, doubts that stir the heart to panic, fears distorting reason’s sight, guilt that makes our loving frantic, dreams that cloud the soul with fright.” Any of those phrases resonate with your experience? Or perhaps describe the experiences of someone you love?

We have LOTS of resources today to battle the demons of mental illness. There’s one, though, that we haven’t named: this community.

I ran across an article this week (Okay. My therapist-husband printed off a copy and laid it in the chair in my study.) written by a medical researcher at Duke University. In a talk Dr. Dan Blazer gave last April, he listed 7 things psychiatrists can learn from faith communities about helping people with mental illness, especially those who are depressed. If you want to read the article later, there are copies out in the narthex.   http://bulletin.hds.harvard.edu/articles/summerautumn2014/what-faith-communities-can-teach-psychiatrists-about-depression

We could read that article together and go through each of the 7 things faith communities can teach psychiatrists. If you have more interest in the topic, I encourage you to do just that. But having served with you for so many years, I suspect that many members of this community would be qualified (that is, have the authority) to write such an article. Like this picture—we all know people in this community who have needed support during times of sadness or emotional difficulty. And those arms…it is telling that the drawing just shows a bunch of arms. You don’t know what the owners of the arms look like. You don’t even know which two arms go together. It’s just the community. Holding up the person who is struggling.

I see you all do that for each other every week, every day. I heard it in nearly every visit I made this week. One person said, “That church! I feel their prayers!” Another talked about being part of the church community as his salvation. I think he meant that literally. Being part of the church community gives him a reason to live. As a community, we’ll hold up the guests of Family Promise this week with our food, our prayers, our kind words.

Life gets hard sometimes. Sometimes, mental illness—or just life in general– robs us of our joy, our hope, our dignity. Sometimes the therapy, the medication, the usual distractions and amusements just don’t work. At those times, isn’t it good to be part of a faith community; isn’t it good to be part of this faith community… this place where people will hug us and pray for us and send cards to us and listen to us?

It is telling, I think, that Jesus’ first act of healing happens in the context of the faith community. Sure, he was the Messiah and all, but that man was going to need a whole lot more than an exorcism. He was going to need help—a lot of help—living into his new reality. Even when the Messiah dramatically sends your demons packing, even then, the healing process has only begun. As we’ll see next week, Jesus quickly heads on to other places. “This is the purpose for which I’ve come,” he says, to go to all those other places.

But that man was going to need support if his healing was going to continue. He needed listening ears and shoulders to cry on and people to get him laughing. He needed to be in a place with lots of children who would remind him of the future, who would give him hope. That newly-healed man needed a community. Jesus might have been a brand new Messiah, but I’m pretty sure he knew what he was doing when he healed that man in the synagogue. He was making sure there was a community to care for that man once Jesus moved on.

In closing, I invite us to sing “Won’t You Let Me Be Your Servant,” Hymn #539. May it remind us what being part of this community is all about.

Won’t you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you?

Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

We are pilgrims on a journey, we are travelers on the road;

We are here to help each other go the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ light for you in the shadow of your fear;

I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.

I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven we shall find such harmony,

Born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony.

Won’t you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you?

Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

Richard Gillard (Words and Music)

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustain us, and hopes for our wholeness. Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015

Last summer, I had the best sabbatical ever!  I worked with church members for a year and a half to design a perfect plan, one that would “make my heart sing.”  We wrote a grant and submitted it to the Lilly Endowment’s Clergy Renewal Program.  August 2013, we learned we’d received the grant!  Now, all I had to do was wait–appropriately enough, 9 months– to begin.

I haven’t given birth, but I imagine what happened after my long wait parallels what happens when a baby is born:  As soon as the real baby appears, everything changes.  That’s what happened with the sabbatical.  Despite my meticulous planning, a new course was set–one I’d never imagined–the minute the actual sabbatical appeared.

It started with a FB shout-out from my friend Rachel Small-Stokes, Associate Pastor at Union Church in Berea, KY.  “Hey, Kim!  We’re hosting a concert to honor Jean Ritchie.  You should come!”  So, just 3 days before the sabbatical’s official start-date, my musicologist husband and I headed north for a concert that would change everything.

The concert itself merits its own blog post, which isn’t this one.  🙂  This post is about my friend John McCutcheon.

John was one of the performers at the “Dear Jean” concert in Berea.  I had a couple of John’s CDs and enjoyed his performance at Union Church…so the second day of the sabbatical “proper,” I visited John’s website to see if I might attend one of his concerts on my “Playing (Music) with My Friends” sabbatical.

None of the concerts looked convenient, but something else did:  John was leading a Songwriting Camp at the Highlander Center for Research and Education near Knoxville, Tennessee.  I signed up.  And choosing that road, as the poet says, has “made all the difference.”

Twenty-one of us gathered at the Highlander Center for song-writing, singing together, and learning about Highlander’s rich history of community organizing and civil rights work.  John is a skilled teacher and a terrific storyteller; we all learned a lot.  But John’s best gift to us last summer was creating a space where we could (wanted to!) connect with each other.  That group of people….they are my friends.  My good friends.  And not just when I need advice on buying a new guitar!  We created that community in response to the enthusiasm and good will of John McCutcheon.

Later in the summer, I attended two of John’s concerts in upstate New York.  As I sat and listened, I realized that in his concerts, John does the same thing he did with us at songwriting camp:   he creates a space where people can connect with each other.  He draws us in with his stories, with his music, with all those instruments, and with–this is the only word that feels right–love.  By the end of the concert, we feel deeply connected to each other….almost like church!

Tonight, John McCutcheon plays at Eddie’s Attic in Decatur, GA!  Can’t get more convenient than that!  (Unless it’s the Gilmer County High School Auditorium in Ellijay, GA, which is where John plays TOMMOROW night.  🙂   Can’t wait to attend both concerts.  Gotta love a church service with a preacher as good as John McCutcheon!

So….have you turned in your Time and Talent Survey?   Have you prayerfully considered your spiritual gifts and how using those gifts might contribute to the common good of the community in 2015?  Have you signed on the dotted line and made your commitment?

Or … are you stuck?  Have you had trouble deciding what to do…or whether to do anything at all?  Or maybe you’ve been stumped by all that “spiritual gifts” language.  What does it mean to be “called by God?”  Isn’t that something that just happens to minister-types?

Today, as we contemplate to what work we are called, it might help to hear some call stories from Scripture.  We heard a great one last week.  The boy Samuel hears someone call, he goes to his mentor, the priest Eli, thinking he’s the one who called him…. Oh.  It’s a good story.  Let’s hear it again.  🙂

3 Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; ³the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. ⁴Then the Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’^* and he said, ‘Here I am!’ ⁵and ran to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call; lie down again.’ So he went and lay down. ⁶The Lord called again, ‘Samuel!’ Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call, my son; lie down again.’ ⁷Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. ⁸The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. ⁹Therefore Eli said to Samuel, ‘Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” ’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

10 Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ (I Samuel 3:1-10)

In Samuel’s case, he just needed a little help tuning in to God.  Once Eli gave him some direction, Samuel listened and heard God’s voice clearly.

Are you having trouble tuning in to God?  Still experiencing static when you think about your spiritual gifts?  It’s okay to ask for help.  Sometimes others can see things more clearly than we can.  Their guidance can help us identify our gifts and respond to God’s call.

Of course, sometimes we hear God clear as a bell…we know exactly what God is saying and to what work we’re being called…we’d just rather not do it.  In fact, we’d rather do anything but what God is asking us to do.  Hear the story of Jonah.

Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah son of Amittai, saying, ²‘Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ ³But Jonah set out to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish; so he paid his fare and went on board, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the Lord.  (Jonah 1:1-3)

Perhaps you’ve heard what happened next.  A great storm blew in.  When the frightened crew asked whose sin had caused the storm, Jonah raised his hand.  They didn’t want to do it, but they had to–the crew tossed Jonah overboard.  “But God provided a large fish to swallow Jonah; and Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights.”

Jonah prayed–Oddly enough, it’s a prayer of thanksgiving–then “God spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah out upon the dry land.”  When the word of God comes to Jonah a second time, telling him to go to Nineveh — no surprise here — he does.

You, too, might have a clear sense of your gifts and to what work God is calling you, but, like Jonah, you just don’t want to use them.  Maybe you, too, would rather do anything else.  Sometimes we might need a little time out, a little seaside retreat (or maybe sea-underside retreat) like Jonah had, to get clear about our gifts and how to use them.  It worked for Jonah.  It just might work for us, too.

One last call story.  This one comes from the New Testament.

16 As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake—for they were fishermen. ¹⁷And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ ¹⁸And immediately they left their nets and followed him. ¹⁹As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. ²⁰Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.     (Mark 1:16-20)

I’m guessing this is the story that comes to mind most often when we think about being called.  Jesus is walking down the beach, sees these two sets of brothers, and calls them.  Immediately, the men drop their nets and follow Jesus.  Simple as that.

I get where the Gospel writer is coming from.  He or she is making the point that Jesus was charismatic, full of God’s Spirit, and the disciples almost couldn’t help themselves.  They turned and followed him like he was the pied piper.

I wonder sometimes if we think God doesn’t call us because we’ve idealized the disciples’ response to Jesus.  “I can’t respond like that,” we might think.  “I can’t imagine Jesus calling me…and even if he did, I can’t imagine dropping everything to go follow him.”  I wonder if, because we can’t meet the ideal of the disciples’ response to Jesus, we assume we just aren’t good “call” material.

Maybe…but I wonder if the disciples’ call experience is as ideal as it first appears. Jesus calls brothers Simon and Andrew; immediately they follow him.  Then right after that, he calls brothers James and John, who “leave their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and follow him.”  Yeah.  The call process didn’t turn out too well for old Zeb, did it?

Here’s what I’m getting at.  I think all these call stories are included in Scripture to encourage us.  They’re there to help us see that there are all sorts of ways to discern our spiritual gifts.  There are many ways to figure out to what work God is calling us.

Like Samuel, this whole being-called-by-God thing might be brand new for us.  We, too, might need help in understanding what God might be saying to us.

Like Jonah, we too might know exactly to what work God is calling us, but we just need some time to adjust our imaginations to God’s vision.  And, okay.  This adjustment time might involve a little rebellion.  Hopefully, it won’t involve a giant fish, but you never know. J

Like the disciples, you might hear God call and immediately drop everything to follow it.  That’s great if it happens…but–I don’t usually do this–but I’m going to give you my opinion about quick responses to God’s call…sometimes those calls “stick.”  But more often than not, in my experience, the “immediate” responders lose interest pretty quickly.  They get caught up by something shiny and new and go for it whole hog…and leave others in the boat to finish the work they’d started.

On the whole, I’m an advocate for taking time to discern your call.  Life runs so fast these days…it’s counter-cultural to take our time with anything.  But taking time with this?  That’s a good gift we can give ourselves…and to the communities of which we are a part.

In a minute, after we sing a really great hymn by Scottish musician and spiritual writer John Bell, we’ll participate in a commissioning liturgy.  The purpose of the liturgy is to ask God’s blessing on your service to Pilgrimage in the coming year.

Knowing that each of us discerns God’s call differently and that each of us is at a different stage in our discernment process, I invite you to participate in the liturgy in whatever way feels more authentic for you right now.  **If you’re gung-ho, all in, fired up and ready to go, great!  Enter the liturgy in that light.  **If you’re ready to commit to serving but are still trying to figure out precisely what you want to do, enter it in that light.  **If you’re still trying to decide whether or not to serve as a volunteer, I invite you to listen to the liturgy and see how it feels.  Hearing the words, do you feel drawn to serve?  **If you have decided that what you most need right now is a break–a Sabbath– I invite you to listen to the words of the liturgy and hear in them confirmation of your decision.  As one recently returned from Sabbath rest, I wholeheartedly affirm its benefits!

As you might imagine, it’s going to take a little time to tabulate your responses to the Time and Talent Survey…. which means it might take a couple weeks before you hear from someone about the gifts of service you’re offering. Not to worry, though. You will hear something. (If you don’t hear something in two weeks, let me know!)

But today isn’t about the specifics, about where and how you will serve. Today is about honoring the fact that you have decided to serve (or are thinking about it).

And so….We’ll sing this great hymn together. As we sing, if you haven’t already, I invite you to come forward and place your Time and Talent Survey in the basket on the table. For all of us, I invite us to reflect on what it means to offer our gifts to God’s work in this community and in the world. How might you build up the body of Christ? How might you act others into well-being? How might you through your service help fulfill God’s hopes for the world?

Sing The Summons.

Commissioning Liturgy.

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  © 2015

I turned 50 last Friday.  I’ve been excited about it, loving every minute of it…until Sunday.  Informal church gathering Sunday afternoon.  Talking with a 3 year old and his parents.  Cute little guy.  Together we were exploring the intricacies of the plot of the movie Frozen.  Things were going along just fine…until he called me….

Grandma!

What?!  Grandma?  I had been thinking about how the 50s are about wisdom and settledness and the joy of having figured out a lot of things about life.  I hadn’t been thinking about how most folks who enter this decade do so as…

Grandparents!

After my initial shock, I thought about it a bit.  Many grandparents in the world are people of wisdom, compassion, and unconditional love.  Watching people become grandparents has been one of the great joys of pastoring.  And I’ve met both of my young friend’s grandmas.  They are terrific women…wise, compassionate, and full of giddy love for their grandson.

So, maybe being called Grandma–even without any children or grandchildren of my own–isn’t such a bad thing.  Grandma can mean old, but it means so much more, doesn’t it?  And because I have no children or grandchildren of my own, I won’t be called Grandma a whole lot in my life…

…but now I have been.  Oh, I know.  My young friend wasn’t thinking about his words; he was just talking in the midst of his play.  (Earlier he’d also said, “Pastor Kim doesn’t look like Pastor Kim with clothes on.”  🙂   But in the moment, immersed in a high level discussion of Frozen, he called me Grandma….and my heart melted.

The old priest was about done.  He’d raised two sons one translation calls “scoundrels.”  He’d been–at best–a mediocre priest, once mistaking a woman’s praying for drunkenness.  And after the events in today’s story, he’ll lose both his sons and the ark of God in a battle with the Philistines.  Later that day, Eli himself will die when he falls over backward from his seat by the side of the gate.  The Scriptures tell us that “his neck was broken and he died, for he was an old man, and heavy.”  An inauspicious ending for an ineffective priest.

When you hear that part in today’s text about the word of God being rare in those days, you wonder if God had stopped speaking or if the religious leaders, like Eli, had stopped listening.  When we read that visions were not widespread, you wonder if God had stopped showing up or if the prophets just ignored God’s appearances.  When we’re told that Eli’s eyesight was growing dim so that he could not see, you wonder if, in addition to his physical blindness, he also was becoming spiritually blind.

For whatever reason–spiritual blindness, physical blindness, moral lethargy, maybe cynicism…for whatever reason, Eli was lying down in his room when the boy given to his care and tutelage, Samuel, came running, “Here I am, for you called me.”  Maybe Samuel woke him up; maybe the last thing Eli wanted was an interruption.  “I didn’t call you, Samuel.  Go back to bed.”  Perhaps Eli was dozing when Samuel came again: “Here I am for you called me.”  This second time Eli shows a little more concern for Samuel–perhaps wondering if the child was hearing things?–this time he says: “I did not call, my son, lie down again.”

We don’t know for sure, the text doesn’t say, but I imagine that second interruption got Eli to thinking…because the third time Samuel comes to Eli, “Here I am for you called me,” this time–finally!–Eli perceives that God is calling Samuel.  “Go lie down,” he tells the boy.  “And if you’re called again, say, ‘Speak, God, for your servant is listening.’” At that point, God does speak to Samuel.  The child receives a disturbing message about Eli’s downfall.  After some coaxing, Samuel reveals the message to Eli and at that point begins his career as a prophet of Israel.  “As Samuel grew up, God was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of God.”

It’s an astounding story–not so much for telling us about the call of a faithful youth, as for showing us the pivotal role an unfaithful adult played in that call.  When you read this story, Samuel’s eagerness to please Eli is striking.  Every time he thinks Eli calls, he comes running to do his guardian and mentor’s bidding.  Every time Eli tells him to do something, Samuel does it…even to the point of repeating Eli’s words verbatim when God calls that fourth time: “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

Also striking is just how long it takes Eli to get a clue.  God had to call three times before Eli figured out what was going on?  He was a priest, for goodness’ sake!  Of all people, Eli should have known what was happening to Samuel.  But wrapped up in his own stuff–his own failures, his own cynicism—Eli wasn’t paying attention…so it took him 2 times of hitting the snooze button before he truly woke up.

But wake up he did.  Eventually.  And because he did, Samuel, this eager child who did not yet know God, did get to know God.  Because of Eli’s less-than-stellar efforts, the word of God (eventually) was revealed to Samuel and he went on to become a great and trustworthy prophet, one “whose words never fell to the ground.”

Don’t you just want to shake Eli, maybe shout some sense into him?  “Come on, Eli!  You’ve got a child in your care. Wake up, man!  Teach him!  Remember your responsibility to care for the next generation.  You’ve got work to do.  Hop to it!”

But before we go raining down opprobrium onto old Eli’s head, we might do well to look at our own actions toward the children in our care.  Last week, we renewed our baptismal vows.  We were reminded of God’s love for us.  We were challenged to live as if we are loved by God.

In fact, that’s what we do every time we have a baptism here.  Here’s the pledge we make to every baptized child and his or her parents:  “Do you, who witness and celebrate this sacrament, promise your love, support, and care to the one about to be baptized, as she lives and grows in Christ?  If so, respond: We promise our love, support, and care.”

It’s easy to run roughshod over Eli until we remember our baptismal vows and our pledge to the baptized.  Like Eli, we too are called to nurture the children in our midst until they are able to hear God’s call in their lives.  As a nurturer of children, do you always get it right the first time?  Or the second?  If you do, let me know.  We’re going to sign you up to teach confirmation.  Like, for forever.

I don’t know any of us who gets it right every time when it comes to mentoring the children in our midst.  In the way we live our lives, do we point children to a life of faith?  Do we try to help them discover their spiritual gifts?  Do we people of the still-speaking God nurture in our children the ability to listen to God?

And lest you think I’m speaking only to the parents in our midst, I’m not.  I’m speaking to every baptized person in the room.  Every baptized person in the room has a responsibility for every child or teenager in the room….that’s what our baptismal vows mean.  Kind of like a wedding we had here a few years ago.  There were tons of kids running around at the rehearsal.  I finally had to ask at the end of the evening which kid belonged to which adult.  Everyone seemed to be sharing in the parenting tasks…and the children responded to all the adults in similar ways.  It was kind of amazing to watch.  It takes a village…in action!

If we take our baptisms seriously, that’s exactly what church should be like, too.  A visitor to this congregation should have trouble identifying family units…because what they’ll see is all of us are nurturing all our community’s children, training them up in the way they should go.

I know, I know.  I can hear the excuses now.  “I can’t help nurture these kids into faith…I don’t know the Bible…I don’t pray much.  In fact, the only time I use God’s name is in the car during rush hour…and that’s certainly not a habit I want to teach a child.  I overeat.  I drink too much sometimes.  I’m not very patient.  I don’t come to church as often as I should.  And besides all that, I don’t know what I would say to a child.  And I sure don’t know how to talk to teenagers!  Is ‘bad’ still good and ‘phat’ still ‘the skinny’?  I think I can best nurture the spiritual lives of the children in our midst by staying away from them.”

This is where Eli changes from punching bag to adequate example.  Oh, he’s not perfect, not by a long shot.  But even in his imperfection, Eli is able to guide Samuel, to nurture him into the place where he is able to hear and claim God’s call on his life.

Perhaps one of the least perfect characters in all of fiction is Howard, narrator of a novel called The Ha-Ha.  A mine explosion in Vietnam leaves Howard with a severe head injury–he can neither speak nor read.  When his long-time friend, Sylvia, goes into drug rehab, she asks Howard to care for her nine year old son, Ryan.  Howard agrees, mostly because he’s not physically able to say no.

When Ryan moves in with Howard and Howard’s three roommates, life in the house changes drastically.  Ryan’s presence–though initially disconcerting (astonishingly disconcerting) – eventually catalyzes their non-traditional household into some semblance of a family.

When Sylvia graduates from rehab and takes Ryan back home, Howard comes unglued.  He goes crazy…violently crazy.  Unable to express his feelings with words, he tries drugs, violence against others, violence against himself.  In the end—thankfully–Howard gets it together.  He accepts the fact that Ryan needs to be with his mom and he goes on with his life.  He’s even able to maintain a relationship with Ryan.

As he reflects on his weeks-long relationship with the boy, Howard wonders if he should pray for Ryan.  “I decide to pray something that’s not a prayer so much as an imagined wish,” Howard says.  “I wish the first thing that bubbles into my head.  I wish for Ryan to be well-loved his entire life.  That’s the key to happiness, I think….Then my mind is pulled from my prayer, and I think that for a few weeks he was well-loved by all of us, and we were loved in return.”  (322)

If someone as broken as Howard and someone as flawed as Eli can love a child, nurture him, guide him, then maybe we broken, flawed people can, too.  Maybe we–Elis all–can pray for the children in our lives to be well-loved their entire lives.  Maybe we, too, can help the children in our lives listen to the still-speaking God.  As baptized people, what other choice do we have?

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan   © 2015  (2006)

I Samuel 3:1-10

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in the his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out; and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And he said, ‘Here I am!’ and ran to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But her said, ‘I did not call; lie down again.’ So he went and lay down. The Lord called again, ‘Samuel!’ Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ But he said, ‘I did not call, my son; lie down again.’ Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, ‘Here I am, for you called me.’ Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefor Eli said to Samuel, ‘Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’ So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for you servant is listening.’                           I Samuel 3:1-10 (NRSV)

At noon today, the Cobb Interfaith Spiritual Leaders group will be meeting at the new location for a mosque in Cobb County.  (If I’m not mistaken, it’s the same mosque whose request to rent space in a strip mall in Kennesaw was rejected by that city’s Council.)

Our discussion topic today is “What Is the Meaning of Faith?”  I broke it down into four parts:  (1) What is faith?  (2) What is Christian faith?  (3)  What is Christian faith to me?  and (4) the importance of interfaith dialogue.

Here are parts 3 and 4…

What is Christian faith to me?

In November 1999, I and several members of my congregation attended a meeting of the Georgia Baptist Convention.  Spewing vitriol, clapping their hands, and stamping their feet, that body of 2,000 delegates voted to disfellowship ours and one other congregation.  Still reeling from that devastating experience, I arrived later that evening at the Temple in Atlanta for a gathering where I was to represent the Religious Education Association, an interfaith organization for which I worked.  Unable to engage in the small talk I was there to make for my job, I wandered around searching for a place where I could gather my thoughts and feelings from the day.

I found a chapel.  It was beautiful–wooden walls, sturdy pews, soft lighting.  I was grateful for the quiet space…but after a few minutes, I found myself looking for….a cross.  In my head, I KNEW I wouldn’t find a cross in a chapel in the Temple, but my heart…Oh!  My heart, my broken spirit needed to see a cross.  I needed to know that God felt and knew the suffering I was feeling.  For me–for me–the sure sign of God’s acquaintance with suffering was the cross.

That was the moment I knew I was Christian (yes, this was after seminary and after 3 baptisms!).  The room in which I sat was holy; I could feel that.  But it was made holy by people who connect with God in different ways, with different language than I use to connect with God.  In that moment, I knew it is the language, images, and stories of Christian faith that best help me to make sense of my living, in particular, and all of life, in general.

What is the meaning of interfaith dialogue?

I think it’s significant that I first embraced my Christian faith in a Jewish chapel.  After years of the faithful filling the space with their prayers, it had become a holy place, a holding place.  That room held me and helped me claim my own faith (one, of course, rooted in Judaism :-).

My experience in the chapel at the Temple illustrates well the gift and promise of interfaith dialogue.  Though each uses different language, rituals, and stories, all our traditions revere the Holy and all created life.  That reverence for the Holy and life is the place where we can connect with each other.  Hearing each other speak about our individual faith traditions–that’s the means we have of getting closer to a fuller understanding of both the divine and the created.  Interfaith dialogue is not a nice thing to add to our schedules if we have time.  It’s not “extra-curricular.”  Interfaith dialogue is at the heart of our core curriculum.  As we learn more about other faiths, we learn more about our own.  Hearing people of other faiths talk about their beliefs and commitments, we are strengthened in our own.

And, as I learned in a Jewish chapel, sometimes by practicing our own faith, we can nurture someone of another faith in their journey.

Peace, shalom, salaam…

Pink bulletins, aka, pink slips.  Yes, it’s that time of year—time to get fired!  This is probably the only time we actually look forward to hearing those fateful words… Because they mean that we’re all released from our volunteer jobs at church (except for Council.  Sorry, guys!).  I’ve been remiss the past couple of years.  I haven’t fired anyone.  So, let me say with a little extra gusto:  “You’re fired!”

“You’re fired!”  Sounds good doesn’t it?  “You are fired!”  Look at the smiles on your faces!  Do you know what’s going to sound even better come January 25?  “You’re hired!”  January 25^th is the day when everyone will be commissioned to your new areas of service for 2015.  Oh, what a great day that will be!

Why go through this firing-rehiring business every so often?  Is it just a gimmick to wrangle more volunteers?  Well, of course, it is!  But it’s so much more than a gimmick.  Taking a break from our “jobs” gives us the chance to reflect on our gifts of time and talent to the community and to see whether giving those gifts is still nurturing us and the community.

Did you know that volunteering in the church is supposed to be nurturing?  No, really.  Don’t laugh.  I mean it.  Technically, if doing your volunteer job in church is a drudgery, you shouldn’t be doing it.  Scary words to say from the pulpit!  Because, let’s face it.  Some jobs in the church aren’t fun.  Some things just have to be done, right?  And sometimes even the sort-of-fun jobs have an element of drudge to them.  But still, if you read the Bible, if you look at Christian communities that are working well, you see that the ideal of Christian service is to have everyone doing jobs they want to do and are cut out to do.

Which brings us to the question of deciding which gifts of time and talent to offer the community.  How do you decide what to do?  How do you decide which blanks to fill out on the Time and Talent Survey?  What’s that?  You don’t have a Time and Talent Survey?  Let me see that you get one!  (Pass out Time and Talent Surveys.)

Go ahead.  Take a look.  It lists the needs of the community and opportunities of service to meet those needs.  Yeah, it’s long.  And thorough.  What’s going to happen is you’ll fill these out and hand them in now through January 25.  The responses will be compiled and given to committee chairs so that they, in turn, can contact you and ask you to serve.  Then you’ll serve!

But how to decide?  Now that you see the needs and opportunities before you, how do you decide which boxes to check?  How do you decide what sacred service to offer to the community in 2015?

The best response to many “fire-ings” is a good dousing of water, isn’t it?  The same is true for today’s fire-ings. The motivation for all our service in the church—sacred service, we call it—the motivation for all our sacred service can be found in our baptismal vows. When we are baptized, or when we confirm, affirm, or renew our baptismal vows, we make certain commitments to God and to the faith community of which we are a part.

I invite you to look at p.46 in your hymnal. When you join Pilgrimage, you do so by affirming your baptismal vows. Let’s read the first sentence of the Address together. “By your baptism you were made one with us in the body of Christ, the church.”

Baptism is the ritual that joins all Christians together. It’s an outward sign of an inward experience of seeing God in Jesus. Our baptism doesn’t make us Christian, but it does signal our membership in the body of Christ. And, by virtue of our membership in the larger body of Christ, we are welcomed into this small part of Christ’s body here at Pilgrimage.

But being a member of the body of Christ doesn’t give us a free pass, not at all. With membership in the body of Christ comes the important work of building it up. Read the “Question about Participation” with me.

Do you promise to participate in the life and mission of this family of God’s people, sharing regularly in the worship of God and enlisting in the work of this local church as it serves this community and the world?           

There’s our motivation for serving others. We serve others because it is a commitment we make at our baptism. As part of the body of Christ, we offer our service to others because we want to do whatever we can to contribute to the well-being and growth of the body of Christ.

But we don’t give our service to others willy nilly… The church needs this service? Okay, I’ll do it. No, we give service only after considering our gifts and praying about how to use them in the community. In a minute, in a Litany of Release, we will be reminded that there are many gifts, but one Spirit. Each of us has our own array of talents, our own skill set. We have been given those gifts for a reason—to build up the body of Christ. As the Apostle Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” If you have been given a gift, you have a responsibility to use it for the good of the community. By the same token, the community has the responsibility to give you the opportunity to use your gifts.

The New Testament word for community is Koinonia. When he started an interracial Christian farming community in south Georgia in 1942, Clarence Jordan called it Koinonia. The members of Koinonia responded to their baptismal calls by trying to live the Christian ideal of having all things in common and working for social, racial, and economic justice.

Reading The Cotton Patch Evidence, a history of Koinonia, I learned that, while Koinonia did some amazing things, ultimately, it wasn’t a great success as a Christian community. Author Dallas Lee had a keen insight into why that was the case.

It had to do with how Clarence used his gifts in the community. Clarence was a gifted religious leader…but because the community strove to have everyone participate as equals—an idea that Clarence bought in to—Clarence downplayed his gifts as a spiritual leader. He focused instead on being an administrative leader…an area in which he wasn’t as gifted. Lee suspects that had Koinonia more readily allowed Jordan to exercise his gifts as a spiritual leader, the community might have been more stable. You never know, but it does make you wonder.

One of my favorite stories about church members doing jobs in the church that fit with their gifts happened right here at Pilgrimage. A few years back, two people served on Council, one as Treasurer, the other as Chair of Communications. Neither was happy in their position. In fact, the Treasurer came to me one day and said, “You’re going to have to get another treasurer. If I do this job much longer, I’m going to start hating the church.”

In the end, this person and the person who was chairing Communications swapped positions. Both people flourished in their new jobs and because they were flourishing—using their God-given gifts in service to the church—the church also flourished. Cool, huh?

As people of Christian faith, baptism connects us to each other. How does that happen? The first way is by acknowledging that all of us, every last one of us, is a beloved child of God. Just look at today’s Scripture story. What happens as Jesus emerges from the water after his baptism? The Holy Spirit descends on him like a dove and a voice from heaven says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” The same thing happens with each of us when we’re baptized. In baptism, we acknowledge and receive the one fact that remains and does not change: that God has loved us, loves us now, and will always love us. And the best part? This gift of God’s love comes as pure grace—God doesn’t love us because of what we have or haven’t done. God loves us because we are. Period.

The question comes, though, what will we do in response to that love? Because the love comes as a completely free gift, we don’t have to do anything in response to it. But do we want to hoard God’s love? Do we want to ignore its impact on our lives? Or do we want to share it? Christian ethicist Beverly Harrison’s definition of love is really apt as we think about how to respond to God’s love for us. She says that “Love is the power to act each other into well-being.” Yeah, we can bask in the warm glow of God’s love for us…really we can. But what might happen if we share that love? What might happen if we use our gifts, our talent, time, and effort to act others into well-being?

In the next few minutes, we will have the opportunity to reflect on our own baptisms, our own belovedness in God’s eyes, our own “power to act others into well-being.” First, we’ll renew our baptismal vows by reading together pp.45-6 in the hymnal. Then, you may come forward to touch the waters of baptism and remember or affirm your baptism. Then, you may come to me or Rochelle for a baptismal blessing. Then, you may return to your seat and prayerfully consider how you might use your time, talent, and effort to act this community into well-being in the coming year.

Please see all these activities as invitations only. Each one truly is voluntary! Now, let’s turn to p.45 and, for those who will, affirm our baptismal vows.

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015 (with parts from 2011 and 2012)