reallifepastor

I returned to church today after being away for a week and a half.  I–like many pastors–take the Sunday after Christmas off.  It was great to spend time with family and to rest a little from the Christmas Eve madness, I mean, joy.  🙂

Getting out of the house this morning was hard.  The bed was warm.  The coffee smelled good.  The sky was dark.  The first Sunday after a Sunday away is always difficult.  Getting back into the Sunday morning routine–arduous.  “Maybe they won’t miss me if I’m not there,” I said to Allen.  He snorted and left the room.  Traitor.

Arriving at church…yeah.  That was hard, too.  A little less hard because there were things to do…put my worship notebook together, write a prayer, figure out which color stole to wear.  (On mornings like this one, that last task can take a while.)  But still…  It’s hard to be working when even the sun is sleeping in.  Somewhere during the great stole color debate, I think I dozed a little…and began dreaming about the bodacious nap I’d be taking this afternoon.

THEN…the people started arriving.  I couldn’t help myself…I hugged all the ones who would slow down long enough for me to catch them.  During announcement time at the start of the 8;30 service, I was even a little giddy.  I just couldn’t believe how much I’d missed these people!  And how much I loved them.

Then we got to communion.  In truth, I hadn’t thought much about the Holy Meal in the midst of finishing off all those holiday meals.  But when we gathered around the table this morning….when Lois served me the bread and juice….when I dipped the bread in the juice then put it in my mouth…It tasted so good!  And I realized in that moment just how hungry I was.  Allen and I had made our usual run through the McDonald’s drive-thru a bit earlier, so it wasn’t that kind of hungry.  It was the kind of hungry that feeds me spiritually and relationally….a hunger that only gets filled around that table with those people at that time (8:30) every week.  Remembering Jesus, taking those memories into the center of my being–both figuratively and literally, and doing so with that community of friends?  It has become not nice, not special….  Sharing communion with those folks has become necessary to my spiritual well-being.  And what a joyful necessity it has become!

I’ve heard it said that in some cultures the greatest compliment to a terrific meal is a hearty belch.  Today I offer a loud, resonant, holy belch…because that was one terrific meal!

Thanks be to God!

            Any guesses as to today’s theme?  Yes!  Light.  From the brightness of the star that led the wise men to Jesus… to the brilliance of the heavenly host celebrating Jesus’ birth… to John’s fixation on it … light shines through the seasons of Christmas and Epiphany…which is kind of nice during the darkness of winter here in the northern hemisphere.

            Here are a few other biblical references to light…  “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the 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.  Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.”  (Gen. 1)  Ps. 27:  “The Lord is my light and my salvation.”   Ps. 119:  “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”  Is. 9: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”  Is. 60:  “Arise, shine; for your light has come.” 

            In the New Testament, Jesus says:  “You are the light of the world… let your light shine before others.”   Then, of course, there’s Saul’s experience on the road to Damascus.  He describes it this way:  “I saw a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shining around me and my companions.” (Acts 26)  Then he falls on the ground, Jesus talks to him, it changes his life… one of those big fat hairy deal conversion stories.

            Light.  The Bible is full of it!  Our faith is full of it.  Jesus claims to be the light of the world.  John says that “God is light.”  Light.  What is the big fat hairy deal about light?

            In preparation for today, I sent an email to Geoff Heilhecker and Ric Reitz asking for a list of lighting changes made to our facility in the last five years.  Geoff wrote back asking if I was starting the new year off with a joke.  I never heard from Ric.  He’s probably still laughing, basking in the brightness of summer in the southern hemisphere.

So, okay.  We have made a few changes to lighting in the last five years.  (After he stopped laughing, Geoff gave a good catalog of everything that has been and will be done.  The list was long!)  I’d like us to take a minute to think about the effects of those lighting changes.  In the silence, I invite you to reflect on how you experience light in this place.  What does light do in this space?  (Silence.)  What came “to light” for you in your reflections?  (Responses.)

(Possible responses:  color; spotlights; lights behind new artwork; reflections; the road to Damascus section; dimmers—light has many degrees; getting rid of fluorescent bulbs; energy-efficiency bulbs; lights on the Chrismon tree)

             I have a confession.  Writing this sermon has been a challenge.  From the moment we turned the lights on in the new baptism artwork in November and you all gasped, I knew light would be the theme of today’s service….so I’ve been thinking about this sermon for a long time.  But actually getting those thoughts on paper?  Very hard. 

Part of the difficulty, I think, is the fact that light does so many things, as the “testimonies of light” we just shared reveal.  Yes, light illumines, but it does so in an infinite number of ways.  With the rheostats wide open, things shine more, they’re more distinct.  With the dimmers on, things become subdued.  Part of the reason we got rid of the fluorescent lights in the back of the sanctuary is because that light was too bright for solemn services like Maundy Thursday and Blue Christmas.  There are times when we need to feel the darkness around us and see the light before us, no matter how faint.

The placement of the spotlights in the far end of the room highlight the figure being baptized in the artwork.  Without those spotlights, it’s more difficult to see that figure.  The placement of the spotlights in front of me highlights me. J  Candlelight warms up the space, no matter how many other lights are on.  And who doesn’t love the lights on the Chrismon tree!  (And who doesn’t love that the tree is PRE-lit!)  And sunlight!  Ah!  Sunlight brings this place to life!…mostly in the way it bathes the room in color and carries those colors across the room.

Light does so many things!  …so many things, in fact, that talking about light is difficult even for scientists—is it a wave or a particle?  Um…yes, they’ve decided.   

Writing this sermon has been hard, I think, because light is too broad a subject.  It means so many different things!  And because it means so many things, it’s just about impossible to identify precisely what John meant when he said that God is light or when Jesus called himself “the light of the world.” 

After many days of unsuccessful sermon-wrangling, I began to wonder if—maybe– light is one of those things that really can’t be defined or even described.  Maybe it’s enough to say that you know it when you see it.  I mean, if even scientists can’t define it precisely, what hope do we people of faith have trying?

But based on all the references to light in the Bible, it certainly isn’t something we can dismiss all together.  Regardless of our ability to define, describe, or preach about it, light is still a big fat hairy deal when it comes to understanding our faith.

So….let’s try this.  Take a minute to reflect on one aspect of light that has been shared today, one aspect that “came to light” in our reflections on the lighting in this space.  Maybe it’s the spotlights.  Maybe it’s the dimmers.  Maybe it’s the lights incorporated into the new artwork.  Maybe it’s the sunlight.  Whatever.  Just think about light.

As you focus on that aspect of light, ask:  How does that light source illumine?  What does it reveal?  How does that particular aspect of light help you to see things differently?  Take a minute to think about that.  (1 minute of silence)

Now, apply your observations of that light source to Jesus.  If Jesus is light in the same way the source you’ve been reflecting on is light, what might that mean?  How does Jesus illumine?  What does Jesus reveal?  How does Jesus help you to see things differently?  (1 minute)

Now, think about any aspect of your life—your work, your relationships, your habits, your hopes….What light might your understanding of who Jesus is shed on that aspect?   (Pause)

Now, think about some situation in the world—poverty, earth care, human trafficking, homelessness….What light might your understanding of Jesus shed on that aspect?  (Pause) 

Now, think about the Pilgrimage community—as we nurture the children in our midst, as we care for each other, as we prepare for sabbatical, as we begin actively envisioning our future together…what light might your understandings of Jesus shed on our life together as a community?   (Pause)

At physical torture, I mean, physical therapy this week, the therapist told me about a patient with Parkinson’s Disease.  Apparently, in the later stages of Parkinson’s, it becomes difficult to go through doorways—not because of mobility or balance issues, but because the brain can’t see a way through the doorway.  The person can come up to a doorway, but some neurological quirk makes it difficult to pass through.

A man my therapist was working with found a way to solve the problem.  He attached a small flashlight to the front of his walker and simply followed the light.  Focusing on the light—rather than the doorway—made it possible for him to pass through with ease.

Perhaps that’s what we should do as well.  As we bask in the Christmas after-glow, eager to re-start our faithful living in the new year, committed to doing what we can to act both earth and its inhabitants into well-being, maybe we, too, can find a way through the difficulties, the challenges, the mental blocks by following the light.  It worked for one wise person.  It just might work for us, too.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan  ©  2014

            Do you ever wish they’d had Instagram in the 1^st century?  I’d love to have seen Joseph’s face when Mary told him:  “Uh, honey?  I’m pregnant.”

            In 1^st century Jewish culture, a betrothed couple like Joseph and Mary already had been through several stages in the marriage process:  talking with the woman’s parents, taking care of the dowry, determining living arrangements, selecting a china pattern…  According to the story, Mary and Joseph had done just about everything except consummate their marriage.

            So, when Mary tells Joseph she’s pregnant?  It’s bad.  Really bad.  In our culture, a pre-wedding pregnancy can, shall we say, complicate matters.  But in most cases, there are many options for dealing with those complications.  In the culture of 1^st century Judaism, though, a man whose fiancé turned up pregnant had only two options:  either divorce her loudly (via public disgracing or even stoning) or divorce her quietly.  Given those two options, Joseph—“being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to pubic disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.” 

Having made his decision, Joseph goes to sleep.  And dreams.  In this dream, a messenger suggests a third option.  He doesn’t tell Joseph to divorce Mary loudly.  Neither does he tell Joseph to divorce Mary quietly.   Instead, he says:  “Take Mary as your wife.”

Sounds simple, doesn’t it?  “Take Mary as your wife.”  But to a faithful, observant 1^st century Jewish man, those words would have been anathema.  Marry a woman who’d become pregnant outside the means proscribed by Jewish law?  Unheard of!  But, when he wakens, that’s exactly what he does.  He takes Mary as his wife then, per the angel’s instructions, names the baby Jesus, a name that literally means, “savior.”

Why did he do it?  Why choose to act so far outside the dictates of his religion and his culture?  Why risk his own social and religious standing by marrying a woman who, for all he knew, had betrayed both him and the vows that had been made?  Why did Joseph agree to raise a child he knew he hadn’t fathered?

Maybe Joseph did it because he really loved Mary and couldn’t bear the thought of her being expelled from the community or maybe even stoned.  Or maybe he did it because he was just that good a guy, a real mensch.  Or maybe he did it because that was one scary dream! 

Or maybe…trying to guess the motives of literary characters is always just that, a guess…but what if Joseph followed the messenger’s advice to “take Mary as his wife” not out of fear or for Mary’s sake or for his own sake… What if Joseph married Mary for the sake of the child?  Maybe when Joseph thought about Mary, when he thought about restrictive religious and cultural rules, when he thought about his own social standing…Maybe when Joseph considered all those things, none of it mattered much when he thought about the child. 

Maybe Joseph was one of those people who always had seen in children hope for the future.  Maybe in his heart of hearts he believed that all children had potential to be saviors.  Maybe Joseph’s first instinct when he learned about the baby was to do whatever it took to care for it, because, you never know…this child might be the one!  This child might be the one—at last—to lead people to unity and justice and freedom and understanding.  This child might be the one through whom peace on earth finally will come.  This child might truly be the savior on whom we’ve been waiting. 

This is just speculation, but what if Joseph acts so quickly in response to the dream because it gives him permission to do what his good heart wanted to do all along:  take care of the child?  Maybe all he needed was permission to act outside the bounds of religious rules and social conventions.  When he had that dream, maybe Joseph’s first thought was:  “Yes!  Now I can do what I wanted to do all along!” 

There’s no way to know why Joseph responded to his dream.  But we do know this:  because of his dream, Joseph was emboldened to do what was best for the child.  And because he did choose what was best for the child—making a home for Mary and Jesus…taking them to Egypt during Herod’s rampage…teaching Jesus a trade…raising him to be a faithful Jewish man….helping Jesus to see that sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is challenge social convention and unjust laws, as Joseph himself had done when he married Mary…  Because Joseph did what was best for the child, that child did grow up to be a savior.

Does it seem strange to you that the ruler of the universe would choose to introduce the divine self as a squirming, crying, helpless baby?  That’s a poser, isn’t it?  I mean, if you were planning to save the world, would your Plan A involve someone who couldn’t feed himself or change his own diapers?  It doesn’t seem, I don’t know, smart, does it?

Or does it?  Have you ever held a newborn baby?  Think a minute about what that felt like.  What welled up inside you when you felt that warm body…when you looked into that sweet face….when you smelled that newborn smell?  Hope?  Joy?  Determination to do whatever you could to make a good life for that little one, to love her, to act her into well-being?

Now, think about this.  What if all the adults in the world made a commitment to do whatever they could to make life good for all the children in the world?  What if all the adults in the world committed themselves to engaging in activities that only and always would act children into well-being?  What if all the adults in the world treated all children as if each one might grow up and save the world?

The world lost a great leader when Nelson Mandela died on December 5.  Born the son of a tribal chief, Mandela was educated in British-led schools and eventually became a lawyer.  As an attorney in South Africa, Mandela rebelled against the poor treatment of blacks by the white minority in his country—a bigotry that was codified when apartheid became law.  His rebellion eventually landed Mandela in prison.  It’s true that he broke the law, but his sentence—life in prison—was unjust; his treatment while in prison beyond harsh.

According to Richard Stengel, the author who assisted Mandela with his autobiography, one of the hardest parts of his 27 year imprisonment was not being around children—neither his own nor anyone else’s.  Can you imagine?  Twenty-seven years without being around your children?  Twenty-seven years without being around any children?

Mandela was released from prison in 1990.  In 1993, he and South African president F. W. de Klerk were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their work dismantling apartheid, preventing civil war, and paving the way for majority democratic rule in South Africa.

In his acceptance speech, Mandela spoke about how the world would know that peace had been achieved in South Africa.  He said, “At the southern tip of the continent of Africa, a rich reward is in the making, an invaluable gift is in the preparation for those who suffered in the name of all humanity when they sacrificed everything—for liberty, peace, human dignity and human fulfillment.

“This reward will not be measured in money.  Nor can it be reckoned in the collective price of the rare metals and precious stones that rest in the bowels of the African soil….

“It will and must be measured by the happiness and welfare of the children, at once the most vulnerable citizens in any society and the greatest of our treasures.

“The children must, at last, play in the open veld, no longer tortured by the pangs of hunger or ravaged by disease or threatened with the scourge of ignorance, molestation and abuse, and no longer required to engage in deeds whose gravity exceeds the demands of their tender years.

“In front of this distinguished audience, we commit the new South Africa to the relentless pursuit of the purposes defined in the World Declaration on the Survival, Protection and Development of Children.”  (Notes to the Future, Nelson Mandela)  (I encourage you to look up the Declaration—which was drafted in 1990–and read through it.  It’s a remarkable document.)

Isn’t that something?  A man who for 70 years had been demoralized by a rule of law that denied him human dignity…a man who had endured physical and psychological abuse at the hands of white prison guards….a man who just six months later would become president of his country….a man given an overwhelming to-do list for rebuilding that country and myriad options for doing so…After all he’d been through and with so much at stake for his country, given an international stage, what did Nelson Mandela do?  He chose to focus the world’s attention on children….perhaps because he sensed that all children—if they are well cared-for—are potential saviors.

Joseph and Nelson, I think, were good men cut from the same cloth.  Each knew the importance of creating a safe world for children.  Each knew that, sometimes, creating that safe world requires challenging unjust laws and bucking social convention.  And each had the courage and the will to do what it took to create that safer world.

What about you?  What will you do this Christmas season to create a safer world for children?  What will you do to act the children in your life into well-being?  What religious rules or social conventions will you challenge for the sake of children?  I invite you to think about it.  Because, you never know.  The child you help just might be a savior.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan  © 2013

Matthew 1:18-25

 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah^* took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. ²⁰But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’ ²²All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
²³ ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
   and they shall name him Emmanuel’,
which means, ‘God is with us.’ ²⁴When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, ²⁵but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son;^* and he named him Jesus.

            ‘Tis the season!’  But ‘tis the season for what?  According to any retail outlet, since about mid-October it has been the Christmas season, the season to buy, buy, buy!  Does it sometimes feel as if the retailers get the better end of the Christmas deal?  After all, they get to celebrate Christmas for two and a half months (or more…).  We Christians only get to celebrate it for twelve days…and the first of those days isn’t until December 25^th!

            Oh, the pain of Advent!  For those of us who celebrate Advent, now ‘tis the season to wait.  We’re waiting on the baby Jesus.  Again.  Just like every year.  ‘Joy to the world, the Lord will come!’ we sing….as we wink to one another over the tops of our hymnals.  We wink because we know.  We know the end of the story.  We know that the world celebrates joyously because the Lord has already come.  We know the baby Jesus will come again…just like he always does.  We go through the motions of the Advent story every year because it’s familiar.  And who doesn’t love a familiar story, especially one with a happy ending?

            But I wonder.  Do we know for certain the baby Jesus will show up this year?  Yes, he’s shown up every previous year…but this Advent—as all other Advents—is different.  After a year of experiences, we’re different people than we were this time last year.  Waiting for the Christ-child, waiting for God’s presence to dwell with us is different this year because we are different people…and the world is a different place…Next Saturday’s anniversary of the Sandy Hook School shooting reminds us of just how different a place.  Yes, Jesus has shown up every year prior to this one, but will he show up again?  Will our waiting bear fruit, like always?  Will God really come to dwell with us again?

            A couple of years ago, the church I served was looking for a new crèche.  Have you ever tried to find a manger scene where the baby Jesus is not attached to the manger?  It’s quite a task!  We looked everywhere for an unattached baby Jesus.  Finally, Allen and I found one in Adel, Georgia, of all places.  Why is that?  Why is the baby Jesus so often so firmly attached to the manger?  Oh, sure.  The baby Jesus is small and we want to be sure we know where he is come the Christmas Eve service!  Better to attach him to something bigger, like the manger, than to risk losing him.

            But again, I wonder.  I wonder if we’re afraid of losing a small piece of ceramic, or if we’re really afraid that the Christ-child won’t come this time.  Yes, in ancient times, God said God wanted to be with us.  God actually did dwell with us for a while.  But that was then.  Now we live in (what feels like) a much more complicated world.  There’s so much pain and grief and meanness.  Does God still desire to dwell with us?  Will God-with-us really come again?  I wonder if we like an “attached” baby Jesus because the empty manger makes us nervous.

            Waiting is a messy, nervous-making business.  But it always seems easier when we have something to do.  So, what are we to do during this season of waiting?  What shall we do while we wait again for the Christ-child to come?

            The prophet Isaiah gives us some ideas.  These few verses contain the prophet’s vision of a better time.  “In days to come the mountain of God’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.  Many peoples shall come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of God, to the house of the God of Jacob that God may teach us God’s ways and that we may walk in God’s paths.” 

            We 21^st century folk understand God to be present in all the world, not just on mountain tops or in sanctuaries.  But let’s go with this image for a minute.  First, we have a mountain, taller than all other mountains.  And on top of this mountain is the house of God, a place to worship God, to learn from God. And from as far as the eye can see, people are streaming to this mountain.  From every direction, people of different races and ethnicities and nationalities and languages and sizes and shapes and colors and dress are streaming to the mountain of God.  They get to the bottom of the mountain and they start climbing up.  Why are they climbing up the mountain of God?  Because they want to get close to God!  They want to learn from God!  And so, they start climbing up the mountain. 

And here’s the interesting thing.  As they’re climbing up the mountain, all these different people, as they’re climbing up the mountain trying to get closer to God, look at what else is happening!  As the people get closer to God, they also get closer to each other…so that, by the time they get to the top of the mountain to commune with God, they’re sitting right next to each other!  And what do they do once they get there?  They learn from God’s ways so that they might walk in God’s paths.  And what are God’s ways?  God’s ways are whatever it takes for these people of different shapes and colors and nationalities to talk to each other and be with each other.  What a beautiful image for this Sunday of peace!

            But the prophet doesn’t just offer an image of a better world.  He also offers an image of how to get there.  Listen:  ‘For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of God from Jerusalem.  God shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.  O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of God!

            Swords into plowshares.  Also a powerful image…if you know what a plowshare is.  I’ve heard this passage all my life, but I never knew what a plowshare was, so I looked it up.  A plowshare is the blade of a sickle.  It’s used to harvest grain.  So you can see the significance of the image of turning a sword—a weapon—into a farm implement, an implement of peace.  It is a powerful image and one that has been used in several places.

            “The words of Isaiah 2:4 (‘They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more’) are engraved in large letters on the wall opposite the United Nations headquarters in new York City.”   And in Washington, DC, ‘welded to a 16 by 19 foot steel plowshare are thousands of disabled handguns confiscated by the Washington Police Department.  The label for the sculpture reads, ‘Guns into Plowshares.’”[1]  (For picture:  http://www.artway.eu/content.php?id=1052&action=show&lang=en)  The words of Isaiah serve well as a mission statement of sorts of the UN.  And the creativity with which the Washington Police Department has contemporized the image is beautifully instructive.

            But perhaps the most powerful use of this image is a nine-foot sculpture that stands in one of the gardens at the UN.  In that sculpture, a muscular blacksmith is beating a sword into a plowshare[2].  What the blacksmith has is neither sword nor plowshare.  It’s something in between.  The blacksmith is in the process of making peace.  He’s in the process of conversion.   (For picture:  https://www.un.org/cyberschoolbus/untour/subswo.htm) 

            As are we.  Oh, to live in a world where nations do not lift swords against each other!  Oh, that war-making could be removed from our collective curriculum as obsolete!  Unfortunately, for us—as for the prophet Isaiah—our conversion process is not yet complete.  We live in a world where nations do war, a place where senseless violence still occurs.  It’s hard—so hard—for us to imagine a world without war or violence, but that’s why God gave us prophets.  Prophets help us imagine.  And Isaiah helps us to imagine a new day, a day where people of different backgrounds and faiths and colors meet together on the mountain of God in peace.  Isaiah helps us imagine a world without war, a world without violence.

            Our work of Advent is like the work of the blacksmith in the sculpture at the UN:  the call this Advent is to be about the process of making peace.  We may not make it up the mountain of God.  We may not even make it to the mountain of God.  And our arsenals may be better-stocked at this point than our barns…But now that Isaiah has helped us imagine it, let us work toward peace.  Let us continue walking in the light of God, searching for God’s mountain.  And let us scale that mountain.  And let us encounter God there. And let us meet God’s other children there, our sisters and brothers.  And let us find peace there.  And as we work and seek God’s peace, let us also keep one eye on our tasks and one eye on the empty manger.  For we may discover that—just as we hoped—God indeed is with us and among us.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan  © 2013  (2001)

********* 

Prayers of the People  (12/8/13)

Holy One, Our brother Nelson has died.  We thank you for all he was to those who knew him and loved him…and also to the tens of millions of people he inspired with his life of justice-seeking and peace-making.  We thank you that for Nelson, all sickness and sorrow are ended, and death itself is past and that he has entered the home where all your people gather in peace.  GM/HP

With our brother Nelson’s passing, we are sad and a little frightened—Who will fill his shoes?  Who will do as much to promote the human dignity of all people?  Who will continue seeking justice for the oppressed?  Who will continue the important work of “beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks?”

Even as we ask the question, though, the answer is emerging fully-formed:  We will.  We will promote the human dignity of all people.  We will continue seeking justice for the oppressed.  We will continue the important work of beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  Holy One, give us the desire, the strength, the wisdom to live as Nelson Mandela lived.  Empower us to do the important work of creating the world as you hope it to be.  Help us to make your kin-dom as real here on earth as it is in heaven.  GM/HP

And now, in the quiet of this moment, we lift into your care those things that are not yet ready for public speech.  (Silence)

Nelson Mandela has died.  If even a fraction of the people in the world would do even a fraction of the things Mr. Mandela did for the cause of peace and justice, the world would be a much better place.  If I did even a fraction of the things Mr. Mandela did for the cause of peace and justice, the world would be a much better place.

As a tribute to this great man, a few quotes.  (These were compiled by The Daily Beast)

“If I had my time over I would do the same again, so would any man who dares call himself a man.” (After being convicted to five years hard labor, November 1962)

“I was made, by the law, a criminal, not because of what I had done, but because of what I stood for, because of what I thought, because of my conscience.” (Statement during trial, 1962)

“I can only say that I felt morally obliged to do what I did.”  (At the opening of his trial, April 20, 1964)

“Social equality is the only basis of human happiness.”  (A letter written on August 1, 1970)

“Difficulties break some men but make others.” (From a letter to wife, Winnie Mandela, from Robben Island, February 1975)

“I came to accept that I have no right whatsoever to judge others in terms of my own customs.” (From his unpublished autobiographical manuscript, 1975)

“Great anger and violence can never build a nation. We are striving to proceed in a manner and towards a result, which will ensure that all our people, both black and white, emerge as victors.” (Speech to European Parliament, 1990)

“Without democracy there cannot be peace.” (South Africa, May 9, 1992)

“We are fighting for a society where people will cease thinking in terms of colour.” (March 8, 1993)

 “When a man has done what he considers to be his duty to his people and his country, he can rest in peace.”  (Interview for Mandela, 1994)

“Reconciliation means working together to correct the legacy of past injustice.”  (December 16, 1995)

“I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.” (From Long Walk to Freedom, 1995)

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” (From Long Walk to Freedom, 1995)

“If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner.” (From Long Walk to Freedom, 1995)

Facts and figures from Nelson Mandela’s life, set to the trailer from ‘Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.’

“Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished.” (From Long Walk to Freedom, 1995)

“Real leaders must be ready to sacrifice all for the freedom of their people.” (Kwazulu-Natal, South Africa, April 25, 1998)

“It is never my custom to use words lightly. If twenty-seven years in prison have done anything to us, it was to use the silence of solitude to make us understand how precious words are and how real speech is in its impact on the way people live and die.”  (South Africa, July 14, 2000)

“When people are determined they can overcome anything.” (Johannesburg, South Africa, Nov. 14, 2006)

The Soloist tells the story of gifted musician and one-time Julliard student, Nathaniel Ayers’.  Nathaniel’s mental illness eventually leads him to a life on the streets.  LA Times’ writer Steve Lopez encounters Nathaniel one day at a statue of Beethoven in Pershing Square.  He’s playing a beat-up violin with two strings….beautifully.   Intrigued, Steve tries to talk with Nathaniel.  Nathaniel responds with a disjointed, rapid-fire monologue.  Still, Steve is moved enough that he writes a column about the encounter.  The Soloist is based on Steve’s newspaper columns about his relationship with Nathaniel and his attempts to get him off the streets.

The movie based on the book contains a haunting scene.  Wanting to learn more about Nathaniel’s life, Steve spends the night with him on Skid Row.  A clean-freak, Nathaniel clears a spot in front of a store’s door—carefully removing every piece of litter, every cigarette butt.  He parks his shopping cart in front of the door, lays a tarp on the sidewalk and, as any gracious host might do, offers Steve a place to lie down.

Jarred by the scene around him—people mumbling incoherently, drug deals going down, people shooting up, rats and roaches everywhere, people offering their bodies for sale—disturbed by what he sees, Steve leans against the shopping cart, wide-eyed.  Much more at home, Nathaniel lies down, closes his eyes, and says:  “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.”  It’s surreal to hear those words while viewing that scene. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  What do those words even mean on Skid Row?

Today marks the end of the Church year.  Reign of Christ, we call it.  It’s the “The End” of the Christian story.  The story will begin again next week with the first Sunday of Advent.  Advent is the “Once upon a time” of the Christian story.

The story begins with the people in darkness, longing for a savior.  The savior is born—that’s Jesus.  Then, during the season of Epiphany, we look for God in the world, like the Magi did.  Everyone, of course, isn’t happy when saviors start speaking truth.  Lent and Holy Week remind us of the dangers of speaking truth to power—the truth-tellers get killed.  Ultimately, though, death is not the end.  Love wins. That’s the message of Easter.  The rest of the church year—the season of Pentecost—shows us how to live the Easter message and work at establishing God’s kin-dom here on earth.

The task of this day, Reign of Christ Sunday, is to check in and see how we’re doing in the work of establishing God’s kin-dom here on earth as it is in heaven.  Last week, with some help from Isaiah, we heard a great description of God’s kin-dom.  It’s a place where everyone has a home and enough food to eat;  a place where children don’t die and old people live long and happy lives;  a place characterized by harmony and wholeness for all creation. 

Based on these images—and the one of Nathaniel saying the Lord’s Prayer on Skid Row—how are we doing?  Are we any closer to living God’s will on earth as it is in heaven?

This is where it’s easy to get overwhelmed.  We look at the statistics and so many people are homeless and jobless and don’t have adequate healthcare or food.  Vickie Tawney told us of the abject poverty she saw last week in Rio de Janero.  The gap between the haves and the have nots grows wider every day.

Sixteen states have legalized gay marriage, which is great…but this past Wednesday, we remembered 40+ transgender people in our country who were murdered last year.  And that doesn’t include the even larger number of transgender people who have committed suicide….nor the people in Uganda and other places who are thrown in jail—and worse—simply for being gay.

And the earth…while stricter emissions standards and other environmental initiatives are making some headway in earthcare, the environmental picture is still pretty grim.

Has the kin-dom of God been established?  Is what Christians call the Christ reigning yet?  We might have made some progress in helping to establish God’s kin-dom on earth, but the scene from The Soloist reminds us of just how much work is left to do.

So, how do we do it?  If the point of following Jesus is working to establish God’s kin-dom here on earth, how do we go about it?

A good place to start is with these words of Paul:  “Keep on doing the things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”

So often, we look for advice on new ways to live our faith in the world.  And so often, our pastor—rather gleefully—provides it.  Lots of it.  “Do this and this and this and this and all will be right with the world.”  In his letter to the Philippians, Paul takes a different tack.  He doesn’t give them yet another to do list.  Instead, he tells them simply to keep on keeping on.   “Remember the things I taught you,” he says.  “You don’t need any more to-do lists or advice…just live the things you already know to do.  Do that, and the God of peace will be with you.  Do that, and you will be doing God’s will on earth as it is in heaven.”

On this Reign of Christ Sunday, as we take stock of the places where God’s kin-dom has come near this year—and those places where it’s still far off—we also will do well to heed Paul’s words.  Because we, too, know what to do.  We know about “loving your neighbor,” and “welcoming the stranger,” and helping create a world where people have homes and food and adequate work.  We know what to do…we simply need to keep doing it.

We’ll have a great opportunity to bring God’s kin-dom a little closer in January.  That’s when we’ll host our first set of families in the Family Promise program.  Family Promise began 25 years ago.  Under the auspices of the Interfaith Hospitality Network, congregations offer their buildings to house a small group of families a week at a time.  We’ll be doing that four times in 2014.  Many of the families only need housing for a couple of months in order to get back on their feet and into better paying jobs and affordable housing.  By working with Family Promise, we’ll be doing lots of kin-dom work:  “loving our neighbors,” “welcoming strangers,” and providing housing and food for families.

Last week, ten people from Pilgrimage participated in a Family Promise event called “See Box City.”  Some of you slept in boxes, some in a tent, some in your cars.  The event took place in the parking lot of St. James Episcopal Church near Marietta Square.  From what I’ve heard, some of you slept—a little; some—not at all.  Some of you made it for church; some didn’t.  All of you, I know, learned something deep and real about the experience of homelessness.  Participating in that event was one sign of the coming Reign of God.

Another sign was the poem written by Keira Dandridge, a member of Mt. Zion Baptist Church.  She attached the poem to the box in which she slept last Saturday night.  It’s called, “We are Not Art.”

We are not art; yet, often enough, people view us as spectacles on exhibit. However, we are humans, children of the Creator, temporarily displaced and searching for a beacon of hope and light during a dark and destitute time.

We are not art; yet, often enough, people view us as lazy, unusual, and entertainment.  However, we are humans, children of the Creator temporarily living in boxes and tents that are dressed in our few possessions…our livelihood.

We are not art; yet, often enough, people view us as darkened souls, foreign, otherworldly, non-citizens.  However, we are humans, children of the Creator, citizens of God who glow in the darkness.  We produce and emit a different type of light manifested through our lives and testimonies.

Our light is fluorescent (bright); it calls attention to our state of being.   It calls for our humanity to be considered.  It cautions you to be aware that we are still your brothers and sisters in Christ seeking your light during our time of darkness.

WE ARE NOT ART.  WILL YOU GLOW FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE DARK?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Bfno79nAJg

                “Glowing for people in the dark…”  It sounds like so little, doesn’t it?  Sleeping in a box for one night, or staying overnight here at church with guests, or bringing food, or simply visiting with them?  Can these really be the tasks by which we help usher in God’s kin-dom?

                All through The Soloist, Steve struggles with how little he feels he is doing for Nathaniel.  He wants to get him off the streets, he wants to get him on medication, he wants to get him performing again.  What he’s told over and over is that Steve’s greatest gift to Nathaniel is friendship.  “‘Relationship is primary,’ one doctor says.  ‘It is possible to cause seemingly biochemical changes through human emotional involvement.  You literally have changed his chemistry by being his friend.’” (196)Later Steve realizes that, “although I can help him, I’m not ever going to heal him.” (236)

            Neither will we be able to heal the world.  As hard as we’ve worked at and prayed for God’s kin-dom to come here on earth as it is in heaven this year, we still haven’t arrived.  But as we end this year’s re-telling of the Christian story and prepare to tell it again next week, if we do as Paul suggests—keep on keeping on with what we already know—we’ll be closer this time next year than we’ve ever been before.  And that will be cause for great rejoicing.

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

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2013

When I reflect on that great line from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Wild Geese”–“you have only to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves”–I think of my cats, Dayo and Gracie.  They do what they feel like doing the moment they feel like doing it.  When they’re tired, they rest.  When they need to run around, they run around.  When they want attention, they ask for it.  Dayo and Gracie are never NOT cats, which means they are never NOT themselves.  They “love what they love” with no apologies.  They are teaching me to do the same.

Dayo is a Yoruban name that means “Joy arrives.”  Gracie is named after my favorite monastery in the whole world, Our Lady of Grace, in Beech Grove, IN.  I’ve recently figured out, though, that if you say their names together–Dayo Gracie–it sounds very similar to the Latin phrase, “Deo gratia,” which means “Thanks be to God.”  Dayo-Gracie.  Indeed!

Here’s what I’m learning at physical therapy:  If you don’t tell the therapist where it hurts, she can’t do what needs to be done to help you heal. 

When another patient at PT yesterday said, “Um, that muscle isn’t happy,” I realized how reticent most of us are to say, “Ouch!  That hurts!”  I’m getting better at it.  A few of my lines from yesterday’s dry needling session…  “Ouch!  That hurts.”  “Ugh!  That felt like a lightning bolt traveling down my leg.”  (That line was delivered with a firm kick that nearly caught my therapist in the jaw.  Oops.)  “Okay.  That feels like a hot rod being run through my leg!”  And then, of course, there’s the sharp intake of breath and the low moan.  Those are particularly effective when delivered in quick succession. 🙂

So much of our culture is about avoiding pain, or masking it–with achievement, consumption, entertainment, addiction, sleep.  Facebook.  We work so hard at avoiding pain….all the while, it’s naming our pain and dealing with it that, as my physical therapist says, “promotes healing.”  

So, weird as it sounds, today I am grateful for pain.  Pain shows us where healing needs to happen….and then works hard to put itself out of business.

Today I am grateful for poets, especially Mary Oliver.  She says things so well!  Here’s one of her best-known poems.  You’ll see why.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

   love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls you like wild geese, harsh and exciting—  

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.  

Today, I am grateful for Sabbath rest.

“Today I am altogether without ambition.  Where did I get such wisdom?” 
 Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures