reallifepastor

Have you seen the video of the toddler who hears his mother’s voice for the first time?  Born deaf, the boy receives cochlear implants.  The camera catches his expression when, sitting on his mother’s lap, he hears her voice for the first time.  What wonder!  What joy! Like the look on Paula Roberts’ face when she saw our new piano for the first time.

Today we’re celebrating Epiphany.  It’s the part of the Christian story where the wise men finally arrive and recognize the toddler Jesus.  “We Three Kings of Orient are.  Bearing gifts we traverse afar. Field and fountain, moor and mountain–Following yonder star.”  Usually on Epiphany, we focus on seeing, on light, on visual aha moments, or epiphanies.

But this year? We got a piano! It was delivered on December 16th– Beethoven’s birthday.  And because it’s alive–it’s made of wood–it has to sit at least two weeks before it can be tuned.  It will be tuned this Tuesday, January 6, which is–drum roll, please– Epiphany.  The piano will be tuned on Epiphany!

When I learned the date for the tuning, I thought immediately of that little boy’s face the moment he heard his mom’s voice for the first.  Then it hit me…I guess you could say I had an epiphany:  Epiphanies aren’t always visual, are they?  Revelation isn’t only about things coming to light.  Revelation also comes on sound waves.

The writer of John’s Gospel knew about aural revelation.  Just look at how he begins the Gospel story:  “In the beginning was the Word…”  Not, “In the beginning was the light,” or “In the beginning was the very pretty sunrise.”  No.  “In the beginning was the Word.”

And if you go back to the first “In the beginning” in the book of Genesis, you see from where John stole, I mean, got the idea:  “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, ²the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. ³Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.”  God spoke, and there was light.  Once God’s word created light, only then did God see it.  “And God saw that the light was good.”

So, sound comes first; it precedes sight.  It’s the same with babies before they’re born, isn’t it?  Before the fetus even has eyes, it can hear–or maybe feel is a more accurate description– its mother’s heartbeat, its father’s singing.  One of my music profsrelated something that happened at a workshop she was leading. At the break, a very pregnant woman with a guitar came up and began playing. Then she moved the guitar to the other side of her body and played.  When she did, her whole stomach moved.  The baby was drawn to the music, to the sound, to the vibrations.

Yes.  In the beginning was the Word, the sound…

After his word about the Word, the Gospel writer moves quickly to a word about light: “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people”….but it is clear that the writerunderstands sound to be the thing that creates:  “In the beginning was the Word.”  After exploring the idea of light for a bit, the author comes back to the Word and says:  “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”  The Word, the creative force, the sound that reveals light–that creative Word became flesh and lived among us.

If we think of the Word as sound, it makes sense that it comes to dwell among us.  That’s what sound waves do, right?  The sound is created and sends the waves out, so that, sound becomes something you hear AND feel.

After college, I taught school for two years in Lawton, OK, where Ft. Sill is located.  Ft. Sill is a big artillery place for the US Army.  Occasionally, when the big brass were in town, the Ft. Sill personnel would give a demonstration of their weaponry in an event called a Firepower.  One time, the Firepower blasting was so loud, a picture literally was knocked off the wall of my apartment.  Oh, yeah.  Those sound waves came and lived among us…and how!

Sound waves coming to live among us….that’s part of why I’m so excited about our new piano.  The digital piano we’ve had for so many years—we’ve made some wonderful music with it!  And I LOVE the transposing feature–especially for trying to sing those hymns at 8:30.  But with a digital piano, the sound is created electronically.  If you turn the sound way up, it might cause a little vibration…but there’s a gap between the experience of striking a key on a digital piano and the sound that’s created.  You press the key and you hear the sound, but you don’t feel it.  When you strike a key on this piano–no matter how softly–you feel the sound.  That’s why we’re able to hear this piano better in this room.  It’s because real live sound waves are emanating from the instrument—from the keys, from the strings—out into the room.  When you strike a key on this piano, the sound literally comes to dwell among us.

The same thing happens when we sing, especially when we sing together.  This summer on sabbatical, I thought a lot about song as a sacrament, about how God shows up when we sing together.  I am convinced that much of the tension that happens among people of faith–all people, really—happens because we stay in our heads.  We draw a line in the sand, create an “us” and a “them,” and spew words at each other until we’re blue in the face.

But when we sing together?  It’s hard–maybe even impossible–to fight with someone when you’re singing with them.  Part of the reason, I believe, is that communal singing gets us out of our heads and into our bodies. When we talk, we do that mostly out of our heads. When we sing with each other? Our voices and lungs, our entire bodies become involved.That’s what happens each week when we sing “Let There Be Peace on Earth”—we get out of our heads and into our bodies. And regardless of what’s going on in the community or in the world, joining hands and singing that song grounds us. It—literally–holds us together.

Though I don’t know that he would have called it a sacrament, folk singer Pete Seeger believed something powerful happens when people sing together.  In fact, he believed– deep-down believed–that people singing together could create world peace.  His biographer, David Dunaway writes: “Pete made friends through music and discovered side effects of community singing: the trust between song leader and singers, the chesty warmth that comes from strangers resonating in harmony.”Once the song “If I Had a Hammer” became popular, people would sing it “in unplanned harmony” at his concerts.  Dunaway writes that Pete “couldn’t stop talking about this, insisting politicians could learn from it.”  (K 2673)

One of the gifts of church communities is that we sing together. In how many other places in your lifedo you sing together with others?  I’m not talking about rehearsal situations– choirs and theater and such.  I’m talking about just singing with others.  At rock or folk concerts… maybe?  Maybe Scouts or summer camp.Happy Birthday in a restaurant? (…if you call that singing… One of the sad commentaries on the 21^st century is that we leave the singing to professionals and children.

Not here at Pilgrimage, though! Every week in worship, we sing together.  Sometimes we sing new songs or hymns, but a lot of times we sing the same songs, sometimes every Sunday.  We do that especially at 8:30.  Why do we sing together?  Because song is a sacrament.  When we sing together, God shows up. And if we sing familiar songs, we can stop worrying about whether or not we know it, and just sing. (Singing new songs is important, too, though. Just think, all those familiar songs once were new to us, too. J)

Now, I know that some of you don’t sing in worship.  And that’s fine.  There is no judgment in that at all.  Everyone engages worship and the community in the ways they are able.  I will say, though, that if you’re not singing the songs, you’re missing a powerful experience of worship and of connecting with the community.  You might also be depriving yourself of an experience of the divine.  Of course, now that I think about it, even if you’re not singing, the sound waves created by everyone else’s singing fill the space…so whether you sing or don’t sing, song still can be a sacrament.  It still can be a means of revealing God. But, oh, it’s so much more fun when you join your voice with others!

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” And that Word became flesh and lived among us.  Word, sound, song–sacraments…ways of meeting God.  Is there any other way to end this sermon than by singing together?  [Community sings “Amazing Grace” together.]

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015

The prophet speaks to a demoralized people.  For 400 years, the Judahites had ruled themselves…then the Babylonians show up and make mincemeat of little old Judah.  Suddenly, people who considered themselves God’s chosen ones have lost their sovereignty, their land, and–they fear–their standing in God’s eyes.  The prophet speaks to reassure the people… and to help them imagine a more hopeful future. He does it by talking about, of all things, road construction: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.  Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain.”

Before the advent of bulldozers and road graders, traveling was difficult.  And very slow.  Uphill, downhill, dodging rocks, avoiding robbers.Because of the rough terrain in what we now call the Middle East, when kings or emperors traveled, an advance team went before them to build passable roads.  They cleared rocks.  They dismantled mountains and used the debris to fill in valleys.  They created a smooth path, which greatly eased the king’s travel… which in turn, made it possible for all people to see their sovereign’s glory.

The road-building image is, of course, a metaphor.  The prophet uses it to invite people to imagine how they might ease the way for God’s coming.

This second Sunday of Advent, we too are invited to clear a path, to ease the way for God’s coming. How do we do it? By focusing on today’s theme: peace.The prophet’s image of road-buildingworks well as an image of peace-making. Both road-building and peace-making take a lot of work. Both take a lot of cooperation among people. Both make it possible for the sovereign to be revealed.

The title of a book by Deepak Chopra says it well:  “Peace is the Way.”  Peace isn’t so much a destination; it’s something we create as we go—one slow step at a time.

I don’t know about you, but I find the prospect of peacemaking overwhelming.  It feels like one more HUMONGOUS item to add to an already daunting To-Do list, especially during Advent:  Get milk, write sermon, buy Christmas gifts, make peace.  I’m pretty sure I know which item is going to fall off that list. And when I start thinking of placeslike Afghanistan, Gaza, Ferguson, and Ukraine?  Then I get downright depressed.  How do we make peace in a world so set on destroying itself with conflict?

But this “peace is the way” idea…that feels more doable.  We create peace by doing what we can–in the context of others doing what they can–to prepare the way for our Sovereign’s coming.  If I’m helping clear the path for God’s arrival, I’m only going to be able to carry one rock at a time.  If I try to carry more, I’ll likely injure something….then I won’t be able to do anything at all.  I’ll be finished as a road-builder; I’ll be through with peace-making.

But if I do only what I have the strength and the skill to do…and join my work with others who are doing only what they have the strength and skill to do, then the road will be built, peace will be created, and I’ll have some great new friends, a whole network of friends, a community with whom to continue easing the way for our Sovereign’s arrival.

A community with whom to create a path for our Sovereign’s arrival. Yes! Advent isn’t about coming to the Christmas Eve serviceto see if Pastor Kim remembered to add the Baby Jesus to the creche this year. Let us all be grateful that God’s arrival doesn’t depend on my memory! No. God-with-us isn’t something we sit helplessly by, just hoping it will happen.   God-with-us is something for which we actively prepare the way. By doing what we have the strength and skill to do, and joining our efforts with the efforts of others, we make it possible for God-with-us to be revealed. In this way we create peace.

Okay. So that’s all good:We do only what we can do, add our offerings to the offerings of others, and somehow, all our combined efforts reveal God-with-us. That’s a good plan for how to make peace. But what is this peace we’re making? Why is peacetheway to reveal God?

The Hebrew word for peace is shalom. The root meaning of shalom is whole. So, when something is at peace, it is whole, complete. When we are at peace, we are whole, we are complete, we have everything we need—food, water, shelter, healthcare, freedom, love.

So, whatever we do to contribute to the wholeness of others—including ourselves–is the way we make peace. Peace is the way. Wholeness is the way. We create a path for God when we contribute to the wholeness of all created things, including ourselves.

Today as we contemplate creating a way of peace, I invite us not to add things to our already overburdened schedules, but to reflect on the ways we already are creating peace, the ways in which we already are contributing to the wholeness of others. How are you using what you have to create peace?

As you reflect, I want to share with you the story of a little boy in South Africa who used what he had to create peace. His name was Nkosi Johnson and what he had to use for peace-making was AIDS.

This past Monday was World AIDS Day, the day we remember the millions of people who have died from or live with AIDS and renew our efforts to find a cure. After 30+ years of research, tremendous strides have been made in combatting AIDS. As attested by Julia Shiver last week when she told us her dad has been living with AIDS for 15+ years, a diagnosis of AIDS is no longer necessarily a death sentence.

Nkosi Johnson was born HIV+ in 1989. Knowing she would not be able to care for him, indeed that she would soon die, Nkosi’s mother Daphne allowed him to be fostered, then adopted by an AIDS activist named Gail Johnson.

When Gail tried to enroll Nkosi in school, she disclosed his HIV status. When parents and teachers learned that an HIV+ child would be attending the school, they took a vote. They voted to barNkosi’s enrollment. His presence would be too disruptive, they said.

Nkosi and Gail directed their disappointment and anger into working to create a law that made it illegal to denyschooling to children because of their HIV status. The law passed.Nkosi started school.

A tiny slip of a child, with large eyes and a larger heart, Nkosibegan speaking tolarge crowds about HIV and AIDS. Because of government suppression of the information, most South Africans didn’t know how HIV was passed. They didn’t know that simply hugging an infected person, or talking with them was completely safe. Nkosi taught people that people with AIDS were just like everyone else.

At the International AIDS Conference in Durban, South Africa in 2000, Nkosi said this: “When I grow up, I want to lecture to more and more people about AIDS… I want people to understand about AIDS- -to be careful and respect AIDS– you can’t get AIDS if you touch, hug, kiss, or hold hands with someone who is infected.Care for us and accept us– we are all human beings.We are normal. We have hands. We have feet. We can walk, we can talk, we have needs just like everyone else- don’t be afraid of us- we are all the same!”

Nkosi died on June 1, 2001—my first day as your pastor. He was 12 years old. Shortly before he died, he had one last conversation with his friend, ABC reporter Jim Wooten. Jim had been interviewingNkosi for a couple of years. As they talked, Jim could tell Nkosi was growing weak. He began saying his goodbyes. Nkosi stopped him and said: “But you didn’t ask about how I feel about dying!” Nkosi was 12. Jim had been reticent to broach the subject with him.

When Jim asked Nkosi about dying, the boy said this: “I don’t want to die, but I’m not afraid of dying.” Then he urged Jim: “Please tell people this: ‘Do all you can with what you have, in the time you have, in the place you are. Everyone can make a difference.’”

Nkosi definitely did all he could with what he had in the short time he lived. Despite often being sick and having little energy, he did what he could to create peace and to contribute to the wholeness of others. On those days when the disease overwhelmed him, he created peace by contributing to his own wholeness, by resting and letting others care for him.

There are many things I love about Nkosi’s story—the simplicity of his message, his love for others, the significant contribution he made in his short life to fighting AIDS.

But the thing I love most about Nkosi’s story is this. He didn’t use only his strengths to create peace; he also used the thing that made him most vulnerable, the thing that took his life at such a tender age–AIDS. That’s what gives me the most hope in Nkosi’s story. I don’t have to wait until I’m strong to begin working for peace. I don’t have to wait until I have it all together. I don’t have to use energy and resources I don’t have to work for peace.

All I have to do—all any of us has to do—is to do all we can, with what we have, in the time we have, in the place we are. If we do that, peace will be created, God will be revealed, and the world will become just a little more whole.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2014

This parable has always unnerved me.  Ten bridesmaids await the groom.  Five have oil for their lamps; five don’t.  The bridegroom is delayed; the bridesmaids fall asleep.  At midnight, there’s a shout:  “Look!  The bridegroom!  Come meet him.”  All ten women trim their lamps.

When the lamps of the five who’ve come without oil begin to sputter, they ask the 5 with oil to share.  Here’s the part I find unnerving:  the five wise sisters don’t share.  They send the foolish women away to purchase more oil.  While the five foolish ones are out shopping, the bridegroom comes and they miss the whole thing.

All things considered, I like the story of the Feeding of the 5,000 way better than this one.  In that story, you’ll recall, a whole mob of people was fed with two fish and five loaves.  In one interpretation of the story, the crowd wasn’t actually fed by so small amount of food.  Rather, that child’s generosity inspired others to share, too, so that, what you ended up with was a potluck dinner like nobody’s business.

In today’s story, those five wise bridesmaids aren’t sharing anything.  And because they don’t, the other five miss out.  Maybe what unnerves me is this sinking feeling that I’d be one of the ones who forgot her oil.  I don’t want to miss the bridegroom’s arrival!  Do you?

No.  Of course not!  Nobody wants to miss the bridegroom’s–we know that’s Jesus, right?  Nobody wants to miss Jesus when he arrives!  Jesus’ word to the wise?  Be prepared.  Keep alert.  You never know when Jesus–or whatever or whomever bears God’s presence–You never know when God’s going to show up.

The thing about being prepared for whenever God shows up…that’s not something anyone else can do for us.  That’s the message of this parable.  No one can see Jesus for us.  No one can say, “I’ve just had this wonderful encounter with the Holy One.  Here!  Take some of my experience and have it for yourself.”  No, in order to see Jesus in the world, in order to encounter the Holy One, we have to prepare ourselves.  There’s no riding on anyone else’s coattails into an experience of the Holy.

The Benedictines get this business of keeping alert and always being prepared to meet Jesus.  The line from Benedict that guides everything they do is: “Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ.”  If the person banging on the door at 3:00 in the morning is the Christ, you’re going to treat him differently than if he’s just a weary traveler looking for shelter, right?

If you’ve ever tried to do that–receive everyone you meet as if they are the Christ–you know it isn’t easy.  In fact, it takes lots of preparation…not so much an external preparation as an internal one.  That’s why the wise bridesmaids are unable to share their oil with the foolish bridesmaids.  It’s not because they’re stingy.  It’s because the oil in the parable represents an internal preparation for meeting the bridegroom. No one else can give you that internal preparation.  That’s something you have to do for yourself.

So, how do we?  How do we prepare ourselves always to be ready to meet the bridegroom–the Christ–whenever and wherever and in whomever he might show up?  In a word:  we practice.  We meet the Christ in others by training ourselves to see it.

My friend Janell was in a car accident last Spring. Her brain was injured. She spends most of her time these days going to physical, occupational, speech, and vision therapy. Yes. Vision therapy. Janell does vision exercises every day. She reads through a prism for one and works with a piece of string for another. Some exercises require special glasses. One pair is light blue. Another pair she calls her “Christmas glasses”—one lens is green, the other is red. The exercises were exhausting at first, Janell reports, but after a few months, she is making good progress. Because of her practice, Janell is re-learning how to see.

The process of learning to see the Christ in others? It, too, can benefit from a little vision therapy. By exercising a little every day, we might find—eventually—that we, too, are making good progress in our goal of learning to see the Christ in others.

But where do you go for a list of those exercises? A couple of stories…

Several of you have asked about the high points of my sabbatical.  (Be sure to come to our Thanksgiving dinner on 11/23.  I’ll be giving a full report then.)  Besides traipsing around Ireland with Allen, the absolute highest point was attending John McCutcheon’s Songwriting Camp at the Highlander Center just outside Knoxville, Tennessee.  I’ve told you a little about the experience of writing a song for the kitchen staff at Highlander.  The experience of writing a song for folks who usually aren’t seen at all, much less serenaded with songs written just for them?  That was a powerful experience…

…and continued to be throughout the sabbatical.  I believe in this idea of seeing the Christ–or, as the Quakers say—“that of God” in every person.  I’ve preached it on many occasions.  But actually looking for and finding the Christ in others?  Who has time for that?

On sabbatical, though, I did have time to look and see–really see–people.  You know what I learned?  It doesn’t take as much time as I thought.

One of my favorite encounters was at a Days Inn in Budd Lake, New Jersey.  I stayed there several days while visiting my friend Nancy.  An older couple from India took care of cleaning my room.  I’m not sure why, but we took a liking to each other.  They didn’t speak much English, and I don’t speak any Hindi, but we communicated well enough.

On the last day of my stay, I was there when they came to clean….I guess I should say, when he came to clean.  He cleaned; we women chatted.  I didn’t understand anything the woman said except that they were from India and when she pointed to the man working hard at something on the carpet, smiled and said, “My husband.”  I don’t know if this is a done thing or not, but I hugged that woman when I checked out.

It might be confusing to say that I “met the Christ” in a woman who likely was not Christian.  (Next to the Gideon’s Bible in the bedside table was a copy of the Bagadgavita.) What I mean to say is that I saw in her “that of God,” something holy, something that felt like kin.  I don’t know that I would have seen that in her if I hadn’t had the experience of writing that song for the kitchen staff and practiced seeing those who aren’t usually seen.

The other thing I learned about seeing that of God in others is the fact that, deep down, we WANT to see and be seen by each other.  We heard it in that story last week about the protester in Ferguson who hugged a law enforcement officer and said, “I want to hate you, but I just can’t.”  The officer hugged her back, with tears in his eyes.  When we take the time to see each other, the ability to hate subsides. Why? Because we don’t want to hate each other. We want to be seen by each other. We want to be connected. We want to get along.

I hope you’ll get to meet John McCutcheon someday.  He sees everyone.  John tells the story of waiting in his dressing room to be called on stage for a concert at the University of Alabama, Birmingham, back in the 70s or 80s.  He was doing what he usually does prior to performing–reading–when a woman from the janitorial service came to clean his room.  John offered to leave so she could work.

What happened instead was they started trading jokes.  One would tell one, then the other would try to outdo it.  That went on until it was time for John to go on stage.  The woman said, “Okay.  I got one.”  It wasn’t funny, she said, but it was one of the best stories she’d ever heard.

It happened on Christmas Eve 1914, in the early days of World War I.  Soldiers from Belgium, France, and England were hunched down in their trenches, trying to find some warmth in the bitter cold, no doubt missing their families…. when what should they hear, but a lone voice singing a Christmas carol.  It took a minute for their war-focused minds to decipher the strange sound…but once they did, other soldiers joined in.

Then, during a break in the singing, one brave soldier emerged from his trench, his handed extended.  After a silent minute, another soldier emerged from another trench, walked up and shook the hand. And with that gesture, the chill of the winter night began to thaw, and soldiers–enemies–began talking with each other and sharing photographs and telling stories of home.  They even played a game of soccer.

This Christmas Eve will be the centennial of what’s come to be called “The Christmas Truce.”  The event illustrates well what can happen when we take the time to see that of God in others, to see them as holy, to see them as kin.  It also demonstrates just how badly we WANT to see that of God in others.  Even when we want to hate them, we can’t.

I guess what I’m trying say is that when we see that of God in others, when we take the time for ourselves to see God, when we practice for ourselves seeing that of God in others, the world can change….tensions in a riot-riddled city can subside, war can take a breather, and a cleaning lady can inspire a songwriter to tell a story that needs to be told again and again and again.

[“Christmas in the Trenches”]

Matthew 25:1-13

Kimberleigh Buchanan ©  2014

I got called up for jury duty this week.  I do love these civic processes–voting, working the polls, responding to a jury summons.  It reminds me that I’m part of a larger whole—often, with people who are quite different from me.  But we’re all equal when it comes to serving our larger community.  All of us in the Jury Assembly Room got the same summons.  Any of us who chose not to show up would get the same personalized invitation from a deputy.   No matter our gender or race or economic status, in the Jury Room we’re all equals. Jury Duty is a great leveler in our society.  That’s why it’s called a “jury of your peers.”

Jesus would have liked our Jury system, I think.  He was all about everyone having equal power in society and, especially, in faith communities.  The religious authorities in Jesus’ day?  Not so much.  The last couple of weeks, we’ve been tracking Jesus’ encounters with the Pharisees, the religious leaders of his day.

Matthew tells us from the get-go that the Pharisees are trying “to trap Jesus in his words.”  They’re trying to get him to say something that will get him imprisoned or that will diminish him in the eyes of the rank-and-file faithful.  Here’s the thing.  The Pharisees liked their authority, they liked their power.  They liked the hierarchical system that put them on top of the heap.  Jesus coming and leveling things out, saying everyone has equal access to God?  Nah.  That wasn’t working for them–because empowering the people meant dis-empowering them. And, like I said, the Pharisees liked their power.

So, they kept asking Jesus these manipulative questions.  Finally, an exasperated Jesus asked a question of his own.  It, too, was manipulative. He asked it to show just how manipulative the authorities’ questions had been.  He asked it to shut the others up.  It worked.

THEN, once his detractors have been silenced, Jesus preaches a sermon.  The sermon’s title?  “Beware the Hypocrisy of the Pharisees.”   Listen:

²‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; ³therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. ⁴They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear,^* and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. ⁵They do all their deeds to be seen by others… ⁶They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, ⁷and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have people call them rabbi.  (Mt. 23)

The role of religious leader came with lots of perks. The Pharisees liked their perks; they liked their power. But—as always is the case with exclusive power—for a few people to have lots of power, everybody else had to give up a lot of theirs. This disproportionate divvying up of power created an unjust system, one that was the opposite of what Jesus imagined the kin-dom of God to be.

Here’s how Jesus imagines the kin-dom:

You are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students.^*9And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father—the one in heaven. ¹⁰Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah.^*11The greatest among you will be your servant. ¹²All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.

Jesus isn’t just calling for a redistribution of power. He’s calling for a whole new kind of power, one that isn’t hoarded by some, but rather, is shared by all.

We’ve seen and are seeing the effects of the disproportionate distribution of power in what’s happening in Ferguson, Missouri. Curious about what is happening there now two months after the shooting death of Michael Brown, I emailed my good friend Karen, who pastors a Lutheran congregation just a few blocks from Ferguson. I expected to get a couple of good quotes. What I got was a wake-up call.

I share with you now what Karen wrote.

As you know, the violent protests have stopped and demonstrations are becoming more organized (less knee-jerk reactions), but everyone is waiting with baited breath as to what might happen when the grand jury findings come in.  I don’t believe that anyone will be surprised if the officer is not indicted.  Many will conclude that this is typical of a system in need of deep reform; others will be extremely angry and we will probably see more protests.

While I ask you to pray for us and our communities, we will pray for your community as well.  I believe that Ferguson is simply a symptom of racism that is prevalent in every one of our communities.

 The ways in which the community has responded over these past few months have been wide and varied, but I must say that God is working through what has been a tragic event.  Despite anger and suspicion, people are being moved to come together, talk, and are finding that working together is much more productive than out-of-control, angry protests.  

However, let me say that it is also important that the systemic problems of prejudice and racism within our culture cannot be ignored any longer.  People are fed up and we will not be able to sink back into our couches of comfort with the way things are any longer.  I see what has happened in Ferguson as prophetic for our nation.

Though you are hearing nothing in the media, there are still pockets of the faithful standing guard outside the police headquarters and on West Florissant Rd holding signs and chanting “No Justice, No Peace,” “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot,” etc.  Every week, I hear of one meeting or another in which citizens—neighbors–are meeting with the mayor and city council or police officials to try to hear one another and make changes in the way people are treated within our criminal justice system.

There also are efforts from both in and outside of Ferguson to develop more jobs. One corporation announced a month or so ago that it is building a facility that will bring 200 jobs to the city and another company announced a $1.5 million scholarship program for high school students planning on going to the University of Missouri, St. Louis.  (Lack of a good education, housing, jobs are all a part of the frustration people feel for not having an equal chance of succeeding in our culture.)

Okay, a few stories of grace in the midst of all of this:

 A group of protestors was challenging a police line in front of the Town Hall.  As the chants were being shouted, suddenly a woman walked up to a policeman and threw her arms around him and said (apparently loud enough for others to hear), “I want to hate you, but I just can’t.” The policeman didn’t know what to do, so he just hugged her back with tears in his eyes.

At a meeting called by the Justice Department (which has helped a great deal in guiding city officials, police department, and neighborhoods to talk and listen to one another) just for the citizens of Ferguson (no media allowed in the meeting), two women from the same neighborhood happened to attend. One was white, one black. Though neighbors, they had never talked with one another.  They began to talk and several days later a reporter interviewed them.  They had become friends, truly friends, and were amazed at all they had in common.  In the interview they expressed how thankful they were to have one another in the midst of this crisis. 

Finally, I think of Michael Brown’s parents. They are divorced and both remarried, yet they have remained united and steadfast on this one point: there is to be no violence in reacting to their son’s death.  They have been outspoken, consistent, and vigilant in trying to get this message across.  While they want justice for their son, they believe that demonstrators who engage in violence dishonor their son.  They want the killings to stop and want the criminal justice system to work for blacks in the same way it works for whites.

 It’s sometimes tempting to see the whole religion thing as passe, antiquated, quaint. But if you read these stories about Jesus, you see that he was– in his time and culture– addressing a dynamic that is still at work in our time and culture.  The kin-dom of God—as Jesus described it, preached it, lived it—is a place where EVERY PERSON has equal value, where EVERY PERSON is treated with human dignity, where ALL PEOPLE share power for the purpose of acting others into well-being.  Jesus’ death by crucifixion—the preferred form of execution for the Roman Empire—was in the end an indictment of a terribly unjust system.

When my friend Karen says that she will pray for our community because what is happening in Ferguson “is simply a symptom of racism that is prevalent in everyone of our communities,” she is speaking prophetically.  She is naming the injustice of racism and calling us to confront it….and heal it…just like Jesus did with the injustices of his day.

In an earlier email to our Women Touched by Grace group, Karen said that one key way to work at changing unjust systems is to focus on the small things—telling our stories, talking with each other, educating ourselves about what’s going on.

Another opportunity to effect change is coming to the table. At a meeting of the Alliance of Baptists many years ago, I attended a session on communion.  As we reflected on our experiences of communion, one person said this:  “The table is a great leveler.  Everyone who comes to the table is equal—equal in need of grace, equal in God’s love for us.”

Perhaps we, too, in a minute might begin (or continue) to confront the sin of racism at the table of communion—a table of our peers.

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

Kim Buchanan © 2014

            Anybody tired of campaign ads yet?  Every year when the ads begin, I’m hopeful.  The first ads name the issues and explain how candidates plan to address them.  Then somebody’s poll numbers slip and–they’ll tell an interviewer– “I didn’t want to do it, but I had to let my constituents know that my opponent is lying.”  Then the opponent defends him or herself by slinging some mud of their own.  By Election Day, you’re happy to vote, not out of civic pride but because now—at last!–the ads will end (…unless there’s a run-off.  Please!  No run-offs!).

The hardest part of political campaigns for me are the debates.  Political debates make me nervous.  And sad.  Most candidates seem much less interested in discussing the issues than in setting traps for their opponents.

That’s what happens in today’s Gospel lesson.  “Then the Pharisees met together to find a way to trap Jesus in his words,” Matthew tells us.  Why were the Pharisees setting word traps? This encounter comes late in Matthew’s Gospel.  By now, it’s clear to everyone that Jesus is challenging the religious authorities to rethink what they do.  Victims of the heavy-handed policies of those religious authorities, people are flocking to Jesus and away from the Pharisees.  Yes. The Pharisees’ poll numbers are slipping.  🙂

So, “they send their disciples, along with the supporters of Herod” (the Governor of the region) to ask:  “Teacher,” (say people who have made it clear they have nothing to learn from Jesus), “we know that you are genuine (glad somebody is) and that you teach God’s way as it really is (unlike we teach it).  We know that you are not swayed by people’s opinions (like we are) because you don’t show favoritism (at least you haven’t shown it to us).  So tell us what you think:  Does the (religious) Law allow people to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”

Here’s the issue.  The Jewish people had little power in the Roman Empire.  Herod was Jewish, but he was a puppet of the Roman government.  Back in Israel’s heyday, the Jews had governed themselves, with God as their “emperor.”  Now that they had a real emperor and a mean-hearted Governor, the issue of whether or not to participate in a government that abused its power–especially in its tax laws–was a hot one.

So, the Pharisees ask Jesus this question–in front of a group of Jewish people and emissaries of the Roman government—as a test.  If he says, Yes, the Law says it’s okay to pay taxes to Caesar, then the Romans will be happy, but he will lose the support of the rank-and-file Jewish people.  On the other hand, if Jesus says, “No.  It is not lawful for Jews to pay taxes to Caesar,” then he’ll be arrested on the spot and thrown in jail.  If that happens, the people will get back in line and the Pharisees’ poll numbers will rise again….which is the whole point, right?

But Jesus is on to them.  “Knowing their evil motives, he replies:  ‘Why do you test me, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used to pay the tax.”  They bring him a coin.  ‘Whose image and inscription is this?’ he asks.  ‘Caesar’s,’ they reply.  Then he says, ‘Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.’”

As a means of entrapment, the Pharisees’ question is brilliant, but Jesus’ response is even more brilliant.  It’s brilliant because he doesn’t fall into the Pharisees’ trap.  He knows they’re trying to set him up.  He knows they’re trying to get him imprisoned by the Romans or disenfranchised by the Jewish people–answering the question directly would have landed him in either of those places.

Instead of answering directly, though, Jesus turns the question back on the Pharisees– “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”  Decide for yourselves, he says.  I don’t have time for these petty power games.  The work of the kin-dom is too important.  Matthew tells us that “When the Pharisees heard Jesus’ response, they were astonished–probably that their ploy hadn’t worked– and they departed.”  Probably with their tails tucked between their legs.

Do you like this Jesus?  I sure do.  The Savior who sticks it to the manipulative, heavy-handed religious authorities?  Oh, you bet I like this Jesus!

…until I really listen to what he’s saying.  “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”  You decide the relationship between your faith and your civic life, Jesus says.  Oh, man!  Decide for myself? You mean Jesus isn’t going to tell me how to vote in a couple of weeks?  Are you telling me Jesus isn’t a registered voter?

Actually, I’m not saying that. If Jesus lived in the here and now, he probably would be a registered voter….but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t tell us how he was planning to vote. Because, what would happen if he did? He’s Jesus, right? We’d all just vote the way he voted without giving it another thought….

….which is exactly what Jesus is afraid of. He’s afraid of people of faith not giving any thought to the relationship between what we believe and how we live. How would Jesus vote? It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that people of faith think for ourselves about how our faith informs what we say and do outside these four walls.

We say we believe God’s love is for everyone, that—as followers of Jesus—we are called to act others into well-being. Do we keep that call in mind when we read the candidates’ stances on issues? When we step up to the voting machine to register our choices, do we bring the “least of these” with us and consider how our vote will affect them? In our own mission statement here at Pilgrimage we commit ourselves to “bringing hope, comfort, and friendship to all”….Does the way we vote help us live out that commitment?

We say that “God is still speaking…” Jesus’ grumpy response to the Pharisees’ manipulative question is, “Yes, but are we still listening?” Are we still thinking? When it comes to the relationship between your faith and your civic life, I can’t tell you what to do, Jesus says. You’re going to have to work that out for yourselves.

Two people who have worked out the relationship between their faith and civic lives are this year’s Nobel Peace Prize winners, Kailash Satyarthi of India, and Malala Yousafzai of Pakistan. Kailash Satyarthi is Hindu, Malala Yousafzai is Muslim. In India, Satyarthi has worked tirelessly to end human trafficking and deplorable child labor practices. In Pakistan—and now globally—Yousafzai is working for accessible education for all people, especially girls.

In 2012 when she was 15, Malala was shot in the head by a member of the Taliban.  Miraculously, she was not killed. A short time later, Malala reflected on what she might do if she encountered her shooter. She imagines hitting him with her shoe, an extreme sign of disrespect in her culture.  After giving it some thought and reflecting on her Muslim faith, she decides against it.  To show such disrespect would make her no better than the shooter, Malala reasons.  If peace is to become real in the world, we must stop the cycle of violence.  Even the most powerless person in the world has power to do that:  stop the violence that flows from her or his own life.

It is her Muslim faith that informs Malala’s actions in the world. Her faith teaches her to respect the dignity of every person and to create peace (which is what the world Islam literally means). Malala ends her memoir with these words:  “Peace in every home, every street, every village, every country–this is my dream.” It is a dream firmly rooted in her faith.

What dreams grow out of your Christian faith? How are you working to fulfill those dreams? How will YOU vote on November 4^th?

As you reflect on the relationship between your own faith and how you live that faith in the world, I want to share with you a song I wrote this summer about Malala. When I read Malala’s memoir a year ago, one line stuck with me. Malala does not remember the shooting, but she says that friends told her “the gunman’s hand was shaking as he fired.”

So, why did that man’s hand shake when he stopped Malala’s school bus, boarded it, and opened fire?  Was he nervous?  Had he been sent to do something he didn’t really want to do?  Was he born a killer or was someone trying to turn him into one?  Did the tremor in his hand speak a deeper truth than the bullet that ripped through the edge of Malala’s skull?  Did it signal, perhaps, a glimmer of hope that even those who commit acts of violence and terror might also prefer to live in peace?

As you listen to Malala’s story, you are invited to think of your own. How will you live your faith in the world? [‘Learn Peace’]

Learn Peace   

When he shot me — so they tell me — his hand was shaking.

Maybe that’s why, the bullet skewed wide, and kept him my life from taking.

Two years have passed, my body has healed, my spirit is thriving and whole.

Where is that man, with the shaking hand?  What is the state of his soul?  His soul?

I am Malala Yousafzai;  I was shot but I did not die.

I work for schools for every girl.  But I hope for everyone in the world

to learn peace.  To learn peace.

When news got out about my injury, everyone started praying for me.

The cards and gifts flooded in.

Their love helped heal me, this I see.  But now a question comes to me:

Who’ll pray for him?  Who’ll love him?  Who’ll heal him?

I am Malala Yousafzai;  I was shot, but I did not die.

I work for schools for every girl.  But I hope for everyone in the world

to learn peace.  To learn peace.  To live peace.

We must teach little girls and little boys….to live peace.

We must teach men and women of every race….to live peace.

We must teach nations around the globe….to live peace.

We must teach the Taliban and Boko Haram…to live peace.

We must teach Congress and the president…to live peace.

We must teach……………………to live peace.

We must teach………………….to live peace.

We must teach…………………..to live peace.

We must teach…………………..to live peace.

We must teach ourselves to live peace.  Can you live peace?  Will you live peace?  Will we live peace?  Peace.  Peace.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan  (C) 2014

Today’s passage from Philippians was written by the Apostle Paul in the 1^st c.  Like most of Paul’s letters, this one addresses a key topic for Paul:  how to do Christian community well.

In Paul’s day, community was unavoidable.  With most people living within a 2-3 mile radius, you were stuck with each other, which meant you had to learn how to get along.

Things are different today. Today, we can shoot messages around the globe in an instant and travel thousands of miles in a single day … Today, we can keep a tally of our friends on Facebook and make new friends with the click of a button…Today, we can conference call, Skype, text, email, Facetime, and on occasion, even go old school and talk face-to-face face-to-face.  And if doing community gets hard or annoying, all it takes is a quick click to “ignore” calls, “block” callers, or “unfriend” people.

Yes, the way we do community today is quite different from the way it was done in Paul’s day…which makes you wonder: Does a 1^st c. apostle have anything to say to 21^st c. disciples about doing community?  Let’s look and see.

Many of Paul’s letters were addressed to communities in conflict. Serious conflict.  Paul wrote to those off-the-rail churches to help them get back on the rails again.

The purpose for the letter to the Philippians is less urgent.  Paul writes from prison.  He sends the letter with his co-worker, Epaphroditus, to assure the Philippians he’s okay.  He tells them he loves them and misses them.  He thanks them for their prayers and for the good work they are doing.  He encourages them to continue that good work despite his imprisonment.

With the church at Philippi, Paul has the luxury of addressing, not a church off-the-rails, but a community that’s clicking on all cylinders. “You’re doing well,” he says.  “Here’s how to become an even stronger community.”  Paul packs a lot into the 9 verses we just heard read.  We could learn a lot about strengthening our community by considering each of them.

Instead, I invite us to look briefly at vss. 2 and 3, where Paul writes: “I urge Euodia and Syntyche to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel.”

So, two leaders of the church are in conflict. Unable to resolve the conflict themselves, the tension is spilling over into the rest of the community. And, as Paul knows well from working with other conflicted communities, conflicts—even small ones—can distract the faithful from their mission, which, of course, is to share God’s love with others.

Here’s the thing about conflict—if you’re in a community, there’s going to be some, even when the community is “clicking on all cylinders.” It’s the nature of the beast. Think about it. To do community well, everyone has to give up some autonomy, right? But who wants to do that? We like being in control of our own destinies, don’t we? And our own remotes!

How many TVs do you have at home? Hopefully, you watch some shows together as a family, but, I’m guessing in most homes, there’s the option of everyone watching different shows at the same time. Even here today….if everyone had their earbuds with them, each of us could be listening to a different piece of music at the same time. Life has become so individualized, there’s very little we have to negotiate with others.

And when it comes to negotiating opinions and ideas? Forget it. In this age of instant communication, the sound bite has become the normative form of communicating. I often find—on Facebook, on “news” programs, in emails—on the whole, we don’t seem to give a lot of thought to what we say any more. We shout slogans and think we’ve communicated. We hear other people’s slogans and think we know everything there is to know about them. I fear that authentic communication—which is key to authentic community—is becoming obsolete.

The more individualized society gets, the more counter-cultural faith communities become. A place where people of all ages, economic means, family make-up, theological bent, political commitments, and musical tastes try to live together in some sort of harmony and maybe even accomplish something together? How do you even do that? Why even try?

Paul’s words to Euodia and Syntyche and the Philippian community offer insight into both the how and the why of Christian community.

How do we live in community? First, Paul says, we strive to have “the mind of Christ.” So, what does that mean? Here’s what Paul wrote earlier in his letter:“Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking … human form, he humbled himself…”

How do we live in Christian community? We do so by following Christ’s example of emptying ourselves for the good of others. Let me be clear. This isn’t a humiliating humility Paul is talking about; Paul’s not saying we should become doormats for others. Instead, he’s advocating for true humility, a way of being that recognizes that we aren’t the center of the universe, but only one tiny part of it….a recognition that the ideal of community happens when we all work together, pray together, and seek the good of the whole community together.

And sometimes, Paul reminds Euodia and Syntyche, seeking the good of the community requires backing off a rigid stance, especially when it’s distracting the community from its mission of sharing God’s love with others. And sometimes, Paul the pragmatist reminds the whole community, it takes a village to resolve conflict. Hence, he calls on his “loyal companion” (probably Epaphroditus) to help Euodia and Syntyche resolve their differences.

So, the first way to strengthen Christian community is to “have the mind of Christ,” to set aside one’s individual desires for the good of the community. Then, when conflicts aren’t easily resolved, Paul says, the community should step up and help those in conflict resolve their differences. Two helpful words on how to do Christian community. But why bother?

Why tend to Christian community at all? You can join just about any kind of spirituality or social justice or Bible study group you want on line. You can even join a faith community in the virtual world. Why go through all the hassle of trying to create Christian community with people who are different from you, people who will challenge you to rethink your beliefs and values, people whom you might find the tiniest bit annoying? Why try to create community with people who like different styles of music, who have different parenting philosophies, or who vote differently at the polls? And why give up one whole morning of the weekend to do so? In the first century, people had to live in community to survive. Today, we can get along just fine without community. So, why do it?

Paul speaks to the why of doing Christian community when he asks Epaphroditus to “help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel”…

Why work at Christian community? We work at Christian community for one reason, Paul says: doing “the work of the gospel.” What is the “work of the Gospel?” The work of the Gospel is sharing the good news of God’s love for every person. I don’t know all the ins and outs of it, Paul might not have either…but the good news we share– that God’s love is for every person—our individual experience of that good news is only half the story. I can’t explain how it happens, but our experience of God’s love somehow becomes complete when we experience it in Christian community. So, if we are to be about our mission of sharing God’s love with others, then it’s vital—vital!—that we do community well.

Today, we honor two people who have done Christian community extremely well here at Pilgrimage. When we were compiling the list of Bob and Sylvia Goodyear’s many contributions to the Pilgrimage community over their 20+ years as members, one person said, “Why don’t we just create a list of what they haven’t done. It’ll be much shorter!” Indeed.

Pilgrimage is one of the most generous congregations I’ve ever been part of. And based on what I hear from my colleagues, you are one of the most generous congregations, period. The per capita giving—in time, talent, and treasure—exceeds that of most congregations. And I know that you give and share because it’s the right thing to do, because sharing God’s love with others is vitally important, because it is our mission as a church to “bring hope, comfort, and friendship to all, welcoming everyone in Christ.”   Every person in this congregation gives generously. And every contribution is vital to the life and mission of this community.

But the contributions of Bob and Sylvia Goodyear to Pilgrimage United Church of Christ? We’ll all have to step it up several notches to equal their generosity.

While we could have shared with you only what the Goodyears hadn’t done for the Pilgrimage community, I think there is much to be gained from hearing what these two people have done for and given to this community… contributions from which we all have benefited… contributions that have made it possible for this community to share the good news of God’s love with others. Let’s hear that list now. [List of contributions.]

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2014

Today, along with Kailash Satyarthi of India, Malala Yousafzai of Pakistan was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.  In 2012 when she was 15, Malala was shot in the head by a member of the Taliban.  Miraculously, she was not killed.

In her memoir, I am Malala, Malala writes, “My friends told me the gunman’s hand was shaking as he fired.”  So, why did that man’s hand shake when he stopped Malala’s school bus, boarded it, and opened fire?  Was he nervous?  Had he been sent to do something he didn’t really want to do?  Was he born a killer or was someone trying to turn him into one?  Did the tremor in his hand speak a deeper truth than the bullet that ripped through the edge of Malala’s skull?  Did it signal, perhaps, a glimmer of hope?

In another place, Malala wonders what she would do if she encountered her shooter.  She imagines hitting him with her shoe, an extreme sign of disrespect in her culture.  After giving it some thought, she decides against it.  To do so would make her no better than him, she reasons.  If peace is to become more of a reality in the world, we must stop the cycle of violence.  Even the most powerless person in the world has power to do that:  stop the violence that flows from her or his own life.

Malala ends her memoir with this:  “Peace in every home, every street, every village, every country–this is my dream.  Education for every boy and every girl in the world.”

Today, the world celebrates Malala’s work and life as a Nobel laureate.  I don’t know Malala, but I feel certain that she would say the best way to honor her is to learn peace and live it in the world.

Here’s a song I wrote this summer in honor of this amazing young woman.  Thank you, Malala!

Here’s a letter to the Emory community (I’m an Emory grad, so I was included in the mass email) by President James Wagner after Sunday morning’s anti-semitic attack on an historically Jewish fraternity on campus.

I do not understand why such hate continues in the world….

To the Emory Community:
It saddens me to report that the Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity house, an historically Jewish fraternity here at Emory, was the target of crude, offensive graffiti, including swastikas, early Sunday morning, October 5, shortly after the end of the observance of Yom Kippur.

On behalf of our community, I denounce this abhorrent act. It is an offense against a Jewish fraternity and the Jewish members of our community, and it is a repugnant, flagrant emblem of anti-Semitism. It is also an offense against the entire university. Among the many pernicious things the swastika symbolizes, in the last century it represented the most egregious and determined undermining of intellectual freedom and truth-seeking. In short, its appearance on our campus is an attack against everything for which Emory stands.

Emory University will not tolerate such acts. Instead we must together pledge Emory University’s continuing commitment to raise awareness and prevent all forms of violence and discrimination; to foster openness and diversity of thought, experience, spirituality, and culture; and to seek positive transformation in our community and the world. We all have a responsibility to uphold the principles we hold dear as an academic community, and to create a community that is inclusive, open, respectful, and welcoming to all.

Emory Police officers are actively investigating the incident and have increased patrols to the area. If you have any information about the individuals who may have perpetrated these acts, please contact the Emory Police at 404-727-6111.
 

Notes for Today’s Worship Service (9/28/14)

Song: Our Own Backyard was written by some very wise third graders…. with a little help from folk singer John McCutcheon.  John has produced 36 albums and currently is working on his 37^th—a tribute album to Joe Hill, a labor worker who was executed in 1915.  (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1821176249/joe-hills-last-will-a-new-recording-by-john-mccutch )  For more information about John, visit his website at:  www.folkmusic.com  (John:  “Nobody else had claimed the address, so I took it!”)  FYI:  John lives in the metro Atlanta area (Smoke Rise).  He is a great musician and a generous and kind human being!

People’s Climate March video: www.peoplesclimate.org

Powerpoint: Photos from some of the places I visited on sabbatical.

Japanese Garden (Portland, OR). “A Japanese Garden is not only a place for the cultivation of trees and flowering shrubs, but one that provides secluded leisure, rest, repose, meditation, and sentimental pleasure… The Garden speaks to all the senses, not just to the mind alone.” japanesegarden.com

International Rose Test Garden (Portland, OR…just across the road from the Japanese Garden!) “In 1917 a group of Portland nurserymen came up with the idea for an American rose test garden. Jessie Currey, president of Portland’s Rose Society at the time, petitioned for the city to serve as a safe haven for hybrid roses grown in Europe during World War I. Rose lovers feared that these unique plants could be destroyed as a result of the war. Foreign hybridists sent roses for test from many countries and the garden was an immediate success.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Rose_Test_Garden

Columbia River Gorge and 3 of its waterfalls (Oregon). “Rapid uplift of this region over the last two million years has forced the Columbia River to incise the Gorge as seen today. Vertical basalt walls along the Columbia River Gorge are graced with the greatest concentration of waterfalls in North America—77 on the Oregon side alone! They come in all shapes and sizes and can be classified into eight forms: plunge, horesetail, fan, cascade, punchbowl, block, tier, and segmented. Latourell Falls is named after Joseph Latourell, a prominent Columbia River Gorge settler. Height: 249 feet. Type: plunge.   Wahkeena Falls. This 242 (tiered) falls was once known as Gordon Falls in honor of pioneer land-owner F.E. Gordon. In 1915, the name was changed to Wahkeena – the Yakama Indian word for “most beautiful.”Multnomah Falls is the highest waterfall in the Columbia River Gorge with a total drop of 620 feet. http://www.columbiarivergorge.info/

The Highlander Center for Research and Education, New Market, TN. June 29 – July 3, I attended a songwriting camp led by John McCutcheon. The experience was life-changing. Part of what made the week special was being in a place with such a rich history of active engagement in social justice issues. Here’s a blurb from their website: “Highlander serves as a catalyst for grassroots organizing and movement building in Appalachia and the South. We work with people fighting for justice, equality and sustainability, supporting their efforts to take collective action to shape their own destiny.” www.highlandercenter.org

Lake Winnipesaukee, NH…I attended the Summer Acoustic Music Week. Beautiful!

Norris Dam State Park, Tennessee. I spent a total of 3 weeks (in two visits) at this beautiful state park! For those who watched “The Roosevelts,” here’s a blurb about Norris Dam’s connection to the TVA and CCC, two critical pieces of the New Deal. “Construction of Norris Dam began in 1933 as the first project by the Tennessee Valley Authority, a Great Depression-era entity created by the federal government to control flooding and bring electricity and economic development to the Tennessee Valley. Civilian Conservation Corps enrollees were sent to build the park. Many of the facilities at the park were constructed by the CCC and are still in use. [Kim: I stayed in a cabin built by the CCC!] Norris Dam State Park was named for Nebraska Senator George William Norris, who lobbied intensively for the creation of the TVA in the early 1930’s.” http://tnstateparks.com/parks/about/norris-dam

Ireland.  These are just a few glimpses of our time in Ireland. Here’s a little more info on the Cliffs of Moher from Wikipedia. “The Cliffs of Moher are located at the southwestern edge of the Burren region in County Clare, Ireland. They rise 390 ft above the Atlantic Ocean at Hag’s Head, and reach their maximum height of 702 ft just north of O’Brien’s Tower, eight kms to the north. The tower is a round stone tower near the midpoint of the cliffs built in 1835 by Sir Cornelius O’Brien. From the cliffs and from atop the tower, visitors can see the Aran Islands in Galway Bay, the Maumturks and Twelve Pins mountain ranges to the north in County Galway, and Loop Head to the south. The cliffs rank are amongst the top visited tourist sites in Ireland, and receive almost one million visitors a year.”

Offertory: Music video: Biosphere. Doug Hendren is a new friend I met at songwriting camp.  A retired orthopedic surgeon, he devotes much of his retirement to writing songs and producing videos like this one.  For more of Doug’s songs and videos, visit www.musicalscalpel.com

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We shall awaken from our dullness and rise vigorously toward justice. If we fall in love with creation deeper and deeper, we will respond to its endangerment with passion.

Hildegard of Bingen, 12^th c. abbess and mystic

Play video: We Made History, about the People’s Climate March  (www.peoplesclimate.org)  One of the people in that crowd of 400,000 was my new friend from songwriting camp, Doug Hendren.  We’ll see a video and hear a song by Doug during the Offertory.   A friend of Doug’s—a college professor—returned from the march and asked a class of 250 students:  How many are aware there was a big climate rally in New York this weekend?  (3 hands went up)   How many are aware that climate change is a problem?  (7 hands)  How many are worried about it?  (5 hands)  Doug is happy for us to use his video in worship today.  He said:  “Spreading the word a handful at a time seems to be very worthwhile.”  Indeed.

A few years back, a new season was added into the liturgical calendar:  the Season of Creation.  It was an audacious move.  The liturgical calendar was set hundreds of years ago.  Its purpose:  to retell the Christian story each year.  It does that by guiding us through the seasons of Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost.  Why retell the Christian story each year?  We do it to see how our personal and communal stories connect with God’s story.

The calendar has worked well for 1700 years, give or take a century. Why change things now?  I suspect the folks who introduced this new season recognized that a key connection between our stories and God’s story is what’s happening with creation, especially in the face of climate change and all that entails.  I don’t know how the Season of Creation was birthed…but I can imagine the initial idea coming after someone heard today’s passage from Romans.

The book of Romans is very dense. We don’t have time to figure it all out in one little sermon.  What we can do, is listen to part of today’s passage and take note of the ways in which the author weaves together the stories of Creation and human beings.  Listen.

Creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God;²⁰for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope ²¹that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. ²²We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; ²³and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.  (Romans 8:18-23)

Did you hear it? Even without understanding all the theology of the passage, the author’s message is clear:  our salvation and Earth’s salvation are inextricably intertwined.

I don’t know about you, but the idea that our salvation and Earth’s salvation depend on each other depresses me.  Two years ago—after preaching four sermons on the dire state of planet earth—I sank into a depression that lasted several weeks.  If we’ve already passed the point of no return –350 ppm of greenhouse gases in the air—what’s the point?  What possibly can be done to save the earth?  Do you ever slip into that kind of hopelessness?

The songwriting camp where I met Doug was led by folk singer John McCutcheon.  In a session on music and social issues, he addressed the issue that many of us were writing songs about:  climate change.  In that conversation John said this:  “Statistics always will depress you.  They’ll always scare you.  You want to do something for creation?  Get out and play in it!”

Then he told us about Pete Seeger who, at the age of 50, began directing all his energy to cleaning up the Hudson River, which was in his own backyard. THEN he sang this song that mostly was written by 3^rd graders with a little bit of help from him. “Our own Backyard.”  (http://www.folkmusic.com/lyrics/our-own-backyard)   Sometimes adults do forget.  We also make things complicated; we overwhelm ourselves with statistics.  As those third graders John worked with said:  “It really isn’t very hard.”  All we have to do is love creation, recognize that our stories and Creation’s story are inextricably intertwined, then begin acting Earth into well-being “in our own backyard.”

John’s comment about doing something for creation by spending time in it resonates well with the quote by Hildegard on your bulletin cover:  “If we fall in love with creation deeper and deeper, we will respond to its endangerment with passion.”

I’m guessing everyone here would say they’re in love with creation.  Who wasn’t smitten by all that gorgeous fall weather this week?  Yes.  We love creation.  But how well do we really know it?

Writer Barbara Brown Taylor thought she knew creation.  She even wrote a book called, An Altar in the World. Then she read the memoir of blind Frenchman, Jacque Lusseyran.  In it, he talks about learning to identify trees by their sounds.

“Why had I never paid attention to the sounds of trees before?” Taylor asks.  “Surely the leaves of an oak made a different sound in the wind than the needles of a pine, the same way they make a different sound underfoot.  I just never bothered to listen, since I could tell the trees apart by looking.  When a sighted friend told me that she had been to a workshop where she learned how to listen to trees, I was taken aback.

“’What do they say? I asked.  “You don’t want to know,” she replied.  Acid rain, pine beetles, clear-cutting developers—what did I think trees talked about?”

Sight, remarks Taylor, “attends to the surface of things…We let our eyes skid over trees, furniture, faces, too often mistaking sight for perception.”  (Learning to Walk in the Dark, 105)

Yes, we love creation, but do we really know it?  Have we fallen in love with creation itself?  Or have we fallen in love with think creation is after one brief glimpse?

I saw some beautiful places this summer.  I took pictures!  I want to share some of those pictures with you.  I share them, not to wow you with my photographic skill.  As you’ll see, these are pretty much like any vacation photos you’ve ever had to endure.  J  I share these photos because I want to share with you my experiences of these places, places I fell in love with.  If I could take you with me to all these places, I would…and we could listen to the trees together and spend time outdoors and fall in love with creation all over again.

In the meantime, we can listen to creation by viewing these pictures.   (Slide show from sabbatical:  Listening to Creation)

What did you hear? How is your story connecting with Creation’s story these days?  Not sure?  Then here’s your homework assignment:  Go outside and play!

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2014