Category: theology

Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think. 

by Rev. James Briney

I like what Jesus did.  He noticed what was going on for others, did what he could and moved on.  Jesus did what he did as a matter of faith.  He lived for what he believed and he died for what he believed.  But his last words indicate that he did not know if it was worth it:  “My God why have you forsaken me.”  Jesus understood that when you know the right thing to do, but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway.  That’s all any of us can do.  

A challenge of ministry is the futility of it all.  If it weren’t for so darn many flawed human beings, clergy would be out of business.  More congregations would be extinct and forming community would be left to amateurs.  Professionally—or not—the key is to minister.  Show up.  Be present.  Be in the practice of ministry, not the ministerial business. 

The major religions of the world have one thing in common.  No one knows anything.  Religious practices are based on faith and belief, not proof and knowledge.  We all are just trying to figure out where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going.  The best we can do is employ words and symbols to express such concerns.  

I like who Jesus was, and is.  He still is, and will continue to be, for as long as he is remembered, thought about, and talked about.  Jesus was anointed as the messiah by those who recognized him as the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, and the Son of God; not the Caesars, who claimed those titles for themselves. 

When Jesus was confronted by the law-givers, who were out to do him in, he did not say he was the ‘only’ way to be in relationship with God.  Jesus said: “I am the way.”  I take that to mean, I am the way to be.  Be the way I am. 

Jesus is not some sort of magic man who did things we can’t do.  He was not being modest when he said:  “You will do greater things than I.”  Jesus understood, hoped for, and trusted that every person is capable of being and becoming the soul that God intends for them to be. 

It is tempting to give up on humanity, or to blame God in the context of overwhelming tragedies, horrors, and sorrows.  It is seductive to settle for a life of distractions that prevent us from thinking about that which matters most.  

I am a person of faith.  I believe there is more to life than life itself, perhaps experienced in the afterlife as manifestations of consciousness and energy.  I once told an atheist who ridiculed my faith, to try to be gracious should he meet God face to face.   

God has given all of Creation everything we need.  Everything in this world that is wrong, unfair, hostile, and unjust is on us.  Trust the Spirit that is Holy within you.  All that you experience and all that you do is part of the Eternal. 

There is no my god, your god, or our god.  There is one God, by a variety of names.  The Church is a flawed institution, not the Kingdom of God.  Individuals that understand the basics, fundamentals, and particulars of their own faith—and the faith of others—give me some hope.   

It’s scary to contemplate our fate and to wonder where we came from, why we are here and where we are going.  But do it anyway.  When you are satisfied that you have all the answers start over.  Think about what you believe.  Then see if you believe what you think. 

Over 25 years of ordained ministry the Reverend James Briney served congregations in Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Early on, Jim earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology.  He is retired and living in Oro Valley.  (Photo by: Lou Waters.)

The human desire to put God in a box

by Rev. Deb Church

“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.” (Matthew 11:16-19, NIV)

These verses are part of Sunday’s lectionary Gospel text, and they got me thinking about the human desire to put God in a box… Here are a few more contemporary examples (or perhaps you have your own):

“I prayed desperately to God that my sister would survive when she got cancer. She didn’t. People told me if I had prayed harder, she would have lived…”

“So many people all over the world are starving. How can there possibly be a loving God who allows that to continue to happen??”

“When I go to church, I want to be comforted and inspired. The new minister says things that make me feel bad, so I don’t go any more. I just don’t believe God wants me to feel bad when I go to church!”

“There are so many lies told in the name of God, so much hurt inflicted in the name of God– God, can’t you please just smite the people who are saying and doing those terrible, hurtful things??”

“It says in the Bible, ‘Women should be silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak but should be subordinate…’ [1 Corinthians 14:34, NRSV] It seems perfectly clear that there should not be women preachers!”

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we like to think we know God–how God will act, of whom God approves, when God will show up, why (and on whom) God will pronounce both favor and judgment, what God has to say about a certain situation, etc.

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we are also people of faith, and therefore, we know God. And we know those things about God.

Well, we think we know those things…because surely, we know God…

Okay, if we’re honest, we really want to know those things…because we desperately want to believe that we know God. Because if we can convince ourselves that we know God, then we can convince ourselves that we understand God. And we believe we understand God, then we can predict God’s involvement in our lives, and in our neighbors’ lives, and in the lives of folks all around the world. And if we can predict God’s involvement in the world around us, then we can count on God’s action, when and where and how we expect it. And above all, perhaps, we will be assured that what we’re saying and doing and thinking and believing about God is good and right and true (and…that “theirs” is not).

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we know not of what we speak…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we know not of whom we speak…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, who were also people of faith, when we claim certainty about God, and about how and where and when and among whom God will show up in the world, we will almost certainly miss it…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we must not put God in a box. Instead, Jesus challenges us to look for signs of God’s presence, as “proved…by her deeds.” (Matt. 11:19b)

When we see truth, there is God.
When we see kindness, there is God.
When we see justice with mercy, there is God.
When we see solidarity with those who are suffering, there is God.
When we see deep laughter, gentleness, humility, and wisdom, there is God.
When we see compassion, peace, joy, and generosity, there is God.
When we see healing and reconciliation, there is God.
When we see wholeness, there is God.
When we see love, there is God.

We cannot know with certainty how and where and when and among whom God will show up. But we can know without a doubt that God is present and at work, in our lives and in all of God’s creation.

Almighty and Tender God, may our eyes and ears and minds and spirits be open to truly know you, to humbly see you, and to courageously join you in your work in the world.

May it be so.

Balanced

This is Conference Minister Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons’ message preached at First Christian Church UCC/DOC in Las Cruces on Sunday, July 24, 2022.

38Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. 39She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. 40But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” 41But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; 42there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:38-42

Martha is fussing, and Mary is listening. Martha is wrong and Mary is right. Right? Or maybe, Martha is doing what a woman is supposed to do (serving) and Mary is doing what a man is supposed to do (learning)[1] so when it comes to the cultural norms and gender expectations of their day, Mary is wrong, and Martha is right. Or maybe, Martha is attending to the needs of others, and Mary is doing something more like what the priest and Levite were doing in the story just before today’s text, focusing on things above. And in that story – the story of the Good Samaritan – someone neglecting the needs of people, especially hurting people right in front of them, in favor of focusing on things above got scolded by Jesus. And in today’s story, that response is reversed. Jesus scolds Martha who is attending to the needs of others and the honor of her house, and he commends Mary. One thing that is certain about this passage is there’s nothing simple about it! A second certainty is that the story of Mary and Martha opens a profound window for understanding the Realm of God as Jesus understood it, and as Luke and the early church tried to live it.

The Rev. Dr. Niveen Sarras is a Hebrew Bible scholar and pastor at Immanuel Lutheran Church of Wausau in Wausau, Wis. She was born and raised in Bethlehem, Palestine. About Mary and Martha she writes:

In my culture and in first-century Palestine, hospitality is about allowing the guest to share the sacredness of the family space. The women’s role is to do all of the cooking and food preparation. It is very unusual for Palestinian women to join male guests before they are done with all the food preparation. In my culture and Jesus’, failing to be a good hostess means disrespecting the guest. 

The traditional interpretation of Luke 10:38-42 presents the narrative as a problem between Martha and Mary, but it is about the two kinds of ministries: diakonia and the word. Marta represents the ministry of diakonia, and Mary represents the ministry of the word. Jesus does not prefer the ministry of the latter over diakonia. Instead, Jesus does not want the diakonia to be at the expense of the ministry of the word. Both ministries are important.[2] 

Luke’s point in chapter 10 is that hospitality quintessentially marks membership in the people of God. When the seventy received their mission, a community’s hospitality was the proof of participating in the Kingdom of Heaven. Hospitality defined the Samaritan as a good neighbor. And in the next chapter, Luke 11, the tell of a friend is their willingness to give you good things when you ask for them, even when doing so inconveniences or costs them.

Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan when he met a man skilled in Biblical study who had trouble living God’s Word in relationship to his neighbors. Luke “shock[ed] [his readers] because they did not expect a Samaritan, an enemy…, to be their neighbor and succeed in what their religious leaders failed to do.” [3]  In this story Jesus met a woman so busy serving others that she wasn’t listening for God’s Word.[4]  Luke shock[ed] his audience again” when he welcomed Mary as a student.[5] 

Recovering the symbiotic relationship between the ministry of service to a broken and hurting world and deeply listening to the words of Jesus can be a step toward healing the divisions in today’s Church and empowering us for being Kin-dom of God friends, Realm of God neighbors. Notice that “Jesus does not ask Martha to give up the ministry of diakonia; instead, he intends to relieve Martha from her anxiety and exhaustion by inviting her to join her sister in learning from him. Then, she can resume her hospitality with her sister.”[6]

These past several weeks I’ve spent a significant amount of time offering a progressive Christian witness in the public square. Listening to the stories of our neighbors about the impact of unaffordable health care and resulting medical debt has been heartbreaking. Listening to the anger and determination of young activists whose communities have been targeted by voter suppression laws has been inspiring. Crafting public statements and working on ballot initiatives in what the UCC Statement of Faith calls “the struggle for justice and peace” is exhausting! Sitting at the feet of Jesus listening deeply to his words grounds us, calms us, reminds us why we are doing ministry in the public square. Without the doing – the struggle, the risks, the solidarity with and accompaniment of our neighbors, “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”[7]

Last Saturday while moderating a webinar to inform, educate, and mobilize progressive churches for reproductive rights I heard both Rev. Dr. Cari Jackson with the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Right and Brittany Fonteno, executive director for Planned Parenthood AZ say they were engaged as Christians in the fight for abortion rights not in spite of their faith but because of it. They are women who model for me the ministry of hospitality – neighborliness, and friendship – built upon a foundation of sitting at the feet of Jesus and deeply listen.

More than that, these women are the voice of Jesus for me. The Word of God that Mary was drawn to was not written on the scrolls in her synagogue. The Word of God that engaged Mary was the Word of God embodied and the words he spoke. Balancing the tasks of hospitality with the ministry of the Word means sitting at the feet of our neighbors and listening to them too, for they have a Word from God for us told in the stories of their lives. Jesus always taught us about the Realm of God through the lens of human experience. Jesus was focused on people not issues. He always interpreted the issues of his day through the lens their impact on people’s lives. And when challenged with a decision between what his Bible said and doing the compassionate neighborly thing, Jesus always chose hospitality.

Martha, thank you for opening your home to us this morning. Mary, thank you for your calm non-anxiousness in the midst of swirling surges of busy-ness and doing. Jesus, thank you for affirming countercultural gender roles, and for reminding us that actions related to loving mercy and doing justice and spending time in your presence listening deeply are two sides of a balanced life for everyone invited to your banquet table.

“If we censure Martha too harshly, she may abandon serving all together, and if we commend Mary too profusely, she may sit there forever. There is a time to go and do, there is a time to listen and reflect. Knowing which and when is a matter of spiritual discernment. If we were to ask Jesus which example applies to us,” Martha or Mary, “his answer would probably be, “Yes.”[8]

[1] Swanson, Richard W. Provoking the Gospel of Luke: A Storyteller’s Commentary. P. 167.

[2] Sarras, Rev. Niveen. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-16-3/commentary-on-luke-1038-42-5

[3] Ibid.

[4] Craddock, Fred B. Luke (Interpretation: a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. P. 151

[5] Sarras, Rev. Niveen. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-16-3/commentary-on-luke-1038-42-5

[6]Ibid.

[7] The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version (Jas 2:17). (1989). Thomas Nelson Publishers.

[8] Craddock, p. 152

Pick Up Your Mat and Walk (Part 2!)

by Rev. Deb Worley

Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. (John 5:8-9, CEB) 

For those of you who were here last Sunday, you may be wondering if I forgot to change the Gospel passage for today, and accidentally read the same passage as last week! Whoops! That’s embarrassing!! 

Except, I didn’t forget to change the Gospel passage. I chose to stick with this passage for another week. When I went home last Sunday, after worship and then the “God Sightings” discussion, I felt like there was more to consider, more that needed to be said. Which is true, of course, with every scripture passage, always! There’s never a time when everything has been said that needs to be said about any one scripture passage. It’s the Living Word. There’s always more to say…because God is still speaking. 

But with this passage in particular, at this particular time, I felt the need to have another go. So…here we go! 

Because not all of you were here last week, and because this past week has been…well, it’s been quite a week…I’m going to start with a very quick review of the gist of last week’s sermon.  (Part 1)

Those of you who were here will likely remember the story I began with, about growing up on a farm in upstate NY, and a specific memory of my dad asking my then-teenaged brother, one wintry day, if he’d like to help him bring in some wood for the wood stove, and my brother saying, “Umm, no,” and my dad getting mad and my mom telling my dad that if he wanted my brother to help him, then to just tell him to help him, don’t ask him! Remember?? 

Well, as you can see and have heard, all three of those family members are here this morning! And all three of them will confirm the veracity of that story after the service, if anyone was thinking I made it up…  

But then I shifted from the question my dad asked my brother, to the question Jesus asked the man in today’s passage: “Do you want to get well?” 

And I pointed to how the man didn’t respond with yes or no, but with some of the reasons he hadn’t gotten well up to that point, some of the reasons he was still sick after thirty-eight years of sitting by the side of the pool…

And I imagined some of what the man might have been feeling: hopelessness, discouragement, despair. I imagined that he might have felt like being well would take more courage than he had, that doing things differently than he had done them for his whole life would take more strength and commitment than he had, that stepping into a new way of living would be hard and uncomfortable and scary–even if that way of living led from sickness and a diminished self to healing and wholeness–and that changing, even for the better, would take more patience and practice than he thought he could find.

And I imagined how Jesus might have responded, from his heart to the man’s heart, taking into account his fears and his despair, his excuses and his stuck-ness, his reluctance to say, “Yes! I want to be well!”… And I wondered if we, too, might need to hear that response, because we, too, can be reluctant to commit to being made well; we, too, aren’t always sure that we have the courage and strength we need to be made whole; we, too, can doubt that healing is worth the hard work and discomfort and commitment that are required… 

And just quickly, here’s what I suggested Jesus might have communicated to the man by the side of the pool in his hopelessness, and what he might also be communicating to us in our own stuckness: 

Yes, it will be hard to be well. Harder than it has been to be sick. 

Yes, it will require courage. Remaining stuck is easy.

Yes, it will require strength. It takes no effort to keep doing what you’ve always done.

Yes, it will require patience and commitment and practice. I will get you started; you will have to keep choosing to be well. Day after day, hour after hour, moment by moment.

Yes, it will be uncomfortable and unfamiliar and scary. 

And it will be hard! Or did I mention that already?? 

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

Stop watching others participate in the world around you, and step more fully into living yourself. Live life more deeply and be who God created you to be more fully. 

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

What you’ve been doing all these years that’s comfortable? Do less of that. Leave that behind.

What you’re considering doing right now that feels uncomfortable? Do more of that. Walk toward that. 

Those thoughts of “It’s too hard. I’m scared. It doesn’t feel good!”? Acknowledge them, name them, say them out loud. And let go of them. They are not going to make you well. 

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

Walk forward. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

Walk toward healing. Toward wellness. Toward being whole.

And step into Life.

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

So, a lot of that was me taking literary license. Imagining what might have been going on in the man, and, yes, in Jesus. Imagining what it might have been like for someone who had been sick, who had been incapacitated, who had been diminished in his self, in some way, for 38 years, most of his life–and at that point to be offered healing… And I imagined what that healing might have looked like, what that healing would feel like, what, really, it was that Jesus was offering. 

And we are told, after Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk,” that “At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.” (Jn. 5:8-9)

And again, I can’t help but wonder!! Did it really happen like that? Was the man completely healed, once and for all? Able to walk with confidence and strength, without a single stumble or misstep, without needing to rest? Simply getting up and stepping into this new way of being, with no looking back? 

“Stand up,” Jesus told him. “Take your mat and walk.” And “At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.”

I wonder…because in our lives and in our world, we need healing. Desperately. In our lives and in our world, we need to be made well. There’s so much pain, so much brokenness, so much suffering, so much chaos, so much darkness…

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and begin to walk.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and speak up.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and be light in the darkness.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and fight for justice.

And, we need courage. And strength. And commitment. And patience. And practice. Because while maybe the man in today’s passage was completely healed, once and for all, never to stumble again, my experience has generally been otherwise, and I suspect yours has been, too. 

We can say yes to healing and stand up–with God’s help–and begin to walk toward healing–with God’s help–with courage and strength and commitment–with God’s help–and we still stumble. We still take missteps, maybe even falling flat on our faces. We still need to rest from time to time. 

But then we can say yes to healing again–with God’s help. And we can stand up again–with God’s help. And we can begin to speak up, with courage and strength and commitment–with God’s help! And then we stumble and misstep and fall and need to rest. Again.

And then we can say yes to healing again–are you seeing the pattern??–and stand up again, and be light in the darkness and fight for justice–all with God’s help. 

All, and always, with God’s help. 

With God’s help, always.

With God’s presence, always.

With God’s power, always…

Hear these words once more, from God’s heart to ours, knowing that as God reaches out to us and offers healing and wholeness, God knows our fears and our despair and the comfort we find in our familiar stuckness. And God continues to call us to new life:

Yes, it will be hard to be well. Harder than it has been to be sick. 

Yes, it will require courage. Remaining stuck is easy.

Yes, it will require strength. It takes no effort to keep doing what you’ve always done.

Yes, it will require patience and commitment and practice. I will get you started, and will be with you; you will have to keep choosing to be well. Day after day, hour after hour, moment by moment. Again and again and again.

Yes, it will be uncomfortable and unfamiliar and scary. 

And it will be hard! Or did I mention that already?? 

All of that is true. And I am here, I am with you, and I want you to be well!

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

And this morning, hear these additional words:

Get up and walk–and when you stumble, which you will, reach out for me and steady yourself, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you take a misstep, which you will, look for me and reorient yourself, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you fall flat on your face, which you will, let me help you up and brush you off, so you can take a breath, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you need to rest, which you will, rest. Find the sacred in your rest. And when you’ve rested, keep going. 

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk. 

And know that I am with you, always. 

May each of you, and me, and all of us, and our world, find the healing we so desperately need, the healing God offers us in Jesus Christ. 

Amen.

Good Enough Faith Keeps Coming Back

by Southwest Conference Minister, Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons, as preached at Scottsdale Congregational UCC on Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022

Easter presents real challenges. It has from the very beginning.

How exactly were the troops going to explain the disappeared body on their watch? Are they really going to tell their superiors: there was suddenly a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.

How were the women going to move the stone? And when they found the tomb opened already, imagine their shock and agony and fear!

Mary Magdalene didn’t wait for explanations. John tells us “she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Resurrection didn’t even enter Mary’s mind when she first visited the open tomb. The other women went inside and were perplexed. Messengers – one or two, no one quite remembered – on the stone or inside the vault, that got mixed up too – it’s tricky – but everyone agrees – messengers in dazzling clothes appeared out of nowhere and said, “Don’t be afraid. I know why you are here. The one you watched die three days ago is alive and He told you this would happen. Remember his words? By the way, he’s heading to Galilee and you can see him there.”

That last line in the angels’ message sounds like a set up. Go to Galilee?! Where Herod ruled and John the Baptizer lost his head?! Jesus’s followers had been in hiding for the last three days. They had plenty of examples of what Roman troops did to the friends of people who had been crucified. And now with the body missing, who do you think the troops identified as ‘people of interest’ in connection with all of this? That’s more than tricky!

Two disciples took the risk and ventured out – back to the cemetery. One went inside; one didn’t. No telling who was in there waiting for them. No angels this time, just a pile of grave wrappings and a shroud folded neatly on the niche where Jesus’s body should have been. Well, part of the women’s story was accurate, anyway. I wonder if they looked at Mary who stood outside the tomb and thought. “Did you women stage this? How did you manage it? Where did you put the body? Do you realize what will happen if the troops find out?!”

Nobody believed the women. The first resurrection sermon had no takers. Talk about a problem with Easter!

Mary stayed at the tomb after everyone else left. It’s the last place she’d see her Lord. She was looking for answers. She was looking for Jesus, albeit a dead Jesus. When she found him she couldn’t see him even when the living Jesus, a man she’d spent years following and living in community with, stood right in front of her talking. Her faith wasn’t ready for that. But she’d come back. And when Jesus said her name, she believed!

It took Mary two visits to accept the living Christ. It’s not how many visits it took that mattered. What’s important is that she came back, kept looking, kept listening.

It’s not always in church that we find ourselves re-visiting his tomb or that we hear Jesus say our name.

Ambulance attendants wheeled him into room 14 – the resuscitation suite. He had been found in a doorway of a downtown building unresponsive. The clinical signs told us he had been dead for quite some time. Still, the ER team did everything possible. Then the moment came to stop the effort, and a time of death was pronounced by the attending physician.

An hour or so later the deceased man’s family members and friends began arriving at the hospital and I was called to meet them. They cried and held each other and began to pray and to sing. Their pastor arrived and anointed the body. Then she turned to me and said in broken English, “You tell doctor shock him and he will live now.”

In the break room the attending physician looked at me with wide eyes. “WOW! Chaplain, if they can bring him back with prayer, I’ll start going to church.”

“Doc, I go to church because I know one man God brought back after three days. But right now, I need you to come in and explain to his family that this man has already been shocked and is gone. I’ll take it from there.”

The doctor shook his head. He was well aware that only doctors were permitted to share medical information with families. So, he explained the reality of the team’s resuscitation efforts and the certainty of biological death compassionately and succinctly. The pastor looked right at him and said, “We prayed. You shock him and he will live now.”

Usually when docs finished that kind of conversation, they left the room and let the support team facilitate a grieving process. But this time the doc stepped back, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and was as attentive as every family member there. I offered my sincere respect and appreciation for the family and the pastor’s faith in a God who could raise the dead. I too believed in that God. I knew in the end everyone who died trusting Jesus will live again. And I also knew that sometimes, as possible as a resurrection is, God takes a person to live where God is. Silence. Startlingly the pastor responded with jubílense, “¡Alabado sea Dios, se ha ido a casa!” “Praise God, he’s gone home!” and she began to pray.

I heard his pager go off during the prayer, and when I looked up the doc was gone. He found me later and said he didn’t mean to be rude and walk out in the middle of a prayer. I said to him, “What I noticed was this time you stayed for the spiritual explanation of your patient dying.” He looked at me and smiled. “You noticed that, did you.” And then one of our pagers went off…

I wonder, how many trips to Jesus’s tomb we make over time? How have your expectations or questions about what you’ll find there changed since your last visit? Maybe you decided to visit Jesus’s empty tomb this morning wondering. “How?!” Or maybe you’re at the empty tomb again not having thought much about what you’d find – an obstacle or an opening, the expected or a surprise.

Maybe the resurrection seems “like an idle tale” – dazzling extraterrestrials, a three-days-dead corpse walking and talking – the same way the testimony of the women fell on the ears of the disciples.

Maybe you’ve been trying to “remember what he told you,” a faith from childhood, lessons from catechism, or a loved one’s witness.

Perhaps the angelic questions resonate with you. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” “Who are you looking for?” [pause] “Who are you looking for?”

Maybe you’re waiting for an invitation to “come and see,” to take a closer look at this place where Jesus is supposed to be found.

Perchance, like Peter,– you’ve seen and still aren’t ready to step in. Or maybe like John – you believe but just aren’t sure how to explain it all.

Or like Mary, you’ve been here before. You’re back because wondering why Jesus isn’t where you thought he’d be, asking questions, making bargains.

It’s even possible all of this leaves you at a loss for words and afraid.

It’s equally possible you heard Jesus say your name once, and you just want to hear it again.

Maybe Easter, is, for you, a day to say, “Alleluia! I’ve seen the Lord!!

Whatever brings you to the empty tomb this time, wherever you find yourself in the story, what matters is you are here! That’s good enough!! Surely there’s room for all of us to grow in our faith. Easter is for celebrating that whatever faith we have in the living Jesus, that’s good enough. Because whatever else we aren’t sure of in our faith, we can be certain of this: Jesus is alive enough to have brought you back. How much more alive does he need to be? Easter faith is good enough when it keeps us coming back. Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!!

I think I’m a little strange…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Let us now confess our sin…” 

This is from [the 3/13/2022] worship service, as the introduction to our time of confession. I think this time each week is so important, so critical, so potentially powerful! I love it. For myself. And for our community. And yes, I know–I’m a little strange that way… But bear with me. I think there’s a chance you just might come to love it, too…

“I know we’re just a little ways into our worship this morning, but I’m going to do a quick review. So far I and we have said the following words:
‘Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ!’
‘God is good, all the time!’
‘…with God on my side I’m fearless, afraid of no one and nothing.’
Whether it’s because we are in Lent, or because of what’s going on in the world, or because of other things that are stirring in my soul, I find myself asking myself (and not for the first time!), do those words –Grace…peace…God-is-good…fearless–really mean anything?

And then I answer myself, Of course they do.

But then I wonder, what? What do they really mean? How do they really affect my day-to-day life? Because they have to. They have to.

At the core of my identity is that I am a person of faith, a beloved child of God. Those words have to make a difference in the living of my life. Or they are just words….

And they are not just words—grace…peace…God-is-good…fearless—they are powerful truths about the Reality of God, the Kingdom of God, the Possibilities of God!

And as I, and we, live into the reality of these truths, as we live more and more out of these truths, I have to believe that the Kingdom of God will grow. Bit by tiny bit, moment by singular moment, interaction by individual interaction. But it will grow…

One part of that process of living into the reality of those truths–just one part—but it’s a significant part—is owning our sin. Yep, that’s another word that’s not just a word but a powerful truth—sin.

And unlike “grace” and “peace” and “Good-is-good!” it’s one we don’t like to think or talk about much.

But our not-thinking-or-talking-about-it-much—or at least the depth of the reality of it—is, I am convinced, part of what keeps us from living more deeply into God’s grace and peace and goodness!

Our reluctance to admit those things with which we struggle, those things around which we feel shame, those things for which we have either stepped deliberately off or fallen accidentally off the path of love and healing—all of those things that keep us distant from one another, from our true selves, from God—our reluctance to acknowledge, to admit, to confess those things is part of what keeps things like “grace” and “peace” and the goodness of God as simply nice words rather than deeply profound truths.

Our reluctance to consider the truth and power of our sin, both individually and corporately, is part of what keeps us from accessing and living into the truth and power of God’s grace and peace and goodness.

So(!)…now’s our chance. A chance. A chance to get real about our sin. In these moments, we have a chance to ‘fess up, to God and to ourselves—and in a few moments, to and with one another—our mistakes, our failings, our screw-ups. Our struggles, our secrets, our shame. Or even just one of those, if that’s where you need to begin. 

As we do that, God can begin remove the weight of all of that from us, look us in the eyes, and whisper to us, “I know. And I still love you. Now get up and try again.”

And in that, we will begin to experience the reality of God’s goodness and peace more deeply. And those words will become truths. And God’s Kingdom will grow, first within us and then in the world around us, bit by tiny bit, moment by singular moment, interaction by individual interaction.

There is real power available in the act of confessing our sin.

I invite you now, as beloved children of God, to join me for a few moments of silent confession.

Let us pray…

And of course, a time of confession is not complete without what I like to call an Assurance of Belovedness. So know, dear one, that even in the face of full admission of your sin (or as “full” as you can muster at the moment), you are deeply and utterly loved. Always. Forever. No matter what. Know that in the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven! Get up and get living!

—————————–
So–what do you think? Do you love it?? If not yet, keep trying. Keep returning to it. You just might surprise yourself one day…and love it. 

Or maybe I’m just a little strange that way… 🙂
Deb

12 Days of Christmas

by Rev. Victoria Ubben

The song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas” was published in England in 1780 without music (as a fun rhyme or chant) but is probably French in origin. While there are many versions of this song and many stories as to what (if any) meaning there might be to the gifts, the following is the story that my mother taught me. Many scholars of music history today are uncertain of any possible religious meaning to this song. Thus, I cannot back this up with proof from the internet or other sources. This is the story that I was taught and that I have found to be helpful to me. May this be helpful to you and your family as you journey through the Twelve Days of Christmas! 

My late mother taught this easy-to-remember and fun-to-sing carol to my brother and me AND she taught us the symbolic meaning behind each “gift” given from one’s “true love.” She always told us that this carol was written as a catechism song for young Catholics. Each element in the carol is a “code” for a religious reality which children can remember.  Now as adults, we still remember the symbolism that our mother taught us even to this day.  

This is what my brother and I were taught: 

  • The true love one hears in the song is not a smitten boyfriend or girlfriend but Jesus Christ, because truly Love was born on Christmas Day.
  • The partridge in the pear tree represents Jesus because that bird is willing to sacrifice its life to protect its young by feigning injury to draw away predators. The tree represents the wooden cross on which Jesus died.
  • Two turtle doves are the Old and New Testaments.
  • Three French hens are faith, hope, and love (1 Corinthians 13). Other traditions indicate that the three French hens represent the three kings who brought gifts (Matthew 2).
  • Four calling birds are the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
  • Five golden rings represent the first five books of the Old Testament, called the Pentateuch. (“Penta” means “Five.”)
  • Six geese a-laying stand for the six days of creation (Genesis 1-2).
  • Seven swans a-swimming represent the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit: Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy. Another source indicates the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit are wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. They are the gifts which were to characterize the Messiah (Isaiah 11).
  • Eight maids a-milking are the eight beatitudes (Matthew 5).
  • Nine ladies dancing are the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control (Galatians 5).
  • Ten lords a-leaping are the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20 & Deuteronomy 5).
  • Eleven pipers piping stand for the eleven faithful Apostles.
  • Twelve drummers drumming symbolize the twelve points of belief in The Apostles’ Creed.

For hundreds of years the Christmas observance didn’t begin until Christmas Eve and didn’t end until Epiphany. So, why stop the gift-giving and the carol-singing on Christmas Day? Join my family and many others as we continue to sing joyous carols (like this one), light candles, and exchange gifts – while remembering and reciting the basics of our Christian faith and passing it all along to our children and grandchildren – for twelve more days!  

Bits of this information is from: 

  1. Ann Ball, Handbook of Catholic Sacramentals.
  2. Fr. Calvin Goodwin, FSSP, Catholic Tradition.

BUT… 

Most of this came from my mother who was committed to passing her faith on to my brother and me. For that, I am so grateful. 

Installation Sermon for Rev. Susan Valiquette

by Rev. Sue Joiner, Senior Minister, First Congregational United Church of Christ, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Installation Sermon for Susan Valiquette 

November 7, 2021 

John 12:1-8 and John 11:44 

12 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” 

We live our lives based on the stories we have been told and even more, the stories we tell ourselves over and over. I heard a story in college that continues to profoundly shape my theology. Wes Seeliger tells this story from his own childhood. It may or may not be a coincidence that the one who changes everything in this story is named Susan. Wes said,  

“Grandmother’s living room was large and dark.  She kept the shades down so her furniture wouldn’t fade.  One day in 1943, when I was five years old, I sat in the middle of her living room floor playing with my toy cars.  I had at least a hundred; fire trucks, buses, tractors, everything – even a hearse. 

‘For me, playing with cars was serious business and there was definitely a “right” way to do it.  The idea was to form a large circle of cars on the living room floor.  And the cars had to be evenly spaced.  Precision was of the essence. I placed my toy box in the middle of the floor.  Then, I took each car out of the box and began forming my circle.  I was very careful.  No two fire trucks could be together.  No two cars the same color could be together.  It was a tedious process, but I was a determined kid. 

When the circle was complete, I sat in the middle and admired my cars and my handiwork.  And since my grandmother never used the living room, my circle remained intact for days.  I returned time and time again to look at my cars and to make minor aesthetic adjustments. 

One morning I was sitting in the middle of my circle.  Peace and contentment bathed my five-year-old soul as I surveyed my almost perfect toy kingdom with everything in its proper order. 

Then came Susan.  Susan was my 3-year-old cousin, and she was a live wire.  Susan took one look at my precious circle of toys and charged.  My precious, tranquil circle was destroyed in an instant.  She kicked and threw my cars all over the room.  She was laughing and squealing – I was crying and screaming.  Grandmother dashed in to see who was being murdered. Grandmother told me later than I cried for two hours, and she had to rock me to sleep that night.  How can you sleep when your world has been destroyed? 

The next morning, I went into the living room to survey the damage.  I was about to begin the painful process of rebuilding when Grandmother told me that Susan was coming over, so I gave up in despair.  So, when my rambunctious little cousin arrived there was nothing to destroy. 

I met Susan at the door to try and avoid additional damage. Susan suggested that we take the cars outside.  What an idea!  I hadn’t thought of that.  But what if they get dirty?  What if one gets lost or broken?  It wasn’t my idea of playing cars, but I gave in.  I decided to risk taking my cars outside.  No use trying to build a circle with Susan around. We played outside all day.  We put real dirt in the dump truck.  We made ramps, forts, and tunnels.  I even let Susan talk me into crashing the cars together.  I had no idea playing cars could be so much fun.’ 

A lot of water has gone under the bridge since that day in 1943.  I have listened to hundreds of sermons and Sunday school lessons.  I have read stacks of theology books.  And a seminary degree hangs on my wall. 

But I think Susan taught me all I really need to know about theology – SIN (unfaith) is sitting in the middle of our homemade universe; FAITH – is the courage and freedom to leave the dark, musty, familiar, living room and take what we love most into the great outdoors.” 

Susan, you know the literal truth of this story already. You find energy outside, and you make sure you get out as much as you can. It keeps you grounded, and I experience that when I hear you pray because I feel your connection to God. Is there something you love that you are called to carry into the great outdoors? 

Let’s be honest. The world is not always open to Susans. Susans come along and question how things have been done. Susans may suggest an extravagant alternative and that can be a threat. At the same time, it can be so beautiful. It is 2021 and the world still isn’t sure what to do with women in leadership. What a gift that First Church has been open and welcoming and loving with you. It is important for all of us to embrace your unique ministry here. 

No one knew what to do with Mary. She sat with Jesus instead of working in the kitchen. Here she takes very expensive perfume and pours it on Jesus’ feet. Note she doesn’t just use a drop or two, she empties the jar and then wipes his feet with her hair. Could she be any more embarrassing? Where is her sense of dignity? But Jesus saw her. He saw the ways she ministered from the depth of her being. She wasn’t trying to be someone else. She wasn’t trying to fit in to a mold that didn’t fit. In fact, she is used to criticism. She doesn’t let that stop her from ministering in the way that is authentically her.  

My concern about the stories we tell ourselves is that those stories may be the ones that keep us from being who we are at any given time. Susan, God called you to ministry. Today you are installed at First Church, and you all say a wholehearted yes to each other. My hope is that this covenant you make with one another will allow you to be who are as you serve this congregation. By doing so, you may all be surprised by the joy you find when you take what you love most into the great outdoors. 

I didn’t read the story from John that comes before Mary’s ministry to Jesus, but it is important. Mary and Martha’s brother has died. He has been in the tomb for four days and he smells. Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb and then he turns to the people gathered and gives them a simple instruction: “unbind him and let him go.” My friends, that is what we are here to do. My understanding is that you know this, First Church. You have a history of it. My prayer for you as a church is that these will be your guiding words in the days to come. Jesus did not turn to the ordained minister. He did not turn to the lay leader. He turned to the entire gathered community and called them to be the ones who would unbind Lazarus. It is what we do for each other. It is what we do for those who dare to walk through our doors or log on to see if they could possibly be welcome here because they have been told there is no place for them in God’s church. It is what we do for those who have sacrificed everything to step into this country, hoping to find freedom. It is what we do for those in recovery, for those who are housing insecure, for those who are struggling with mental health challenges.  

If we are going to unbind them and let them go, it will take all of us. This is not a job for a few volunteers or committee chairs. It will require the whole community to listen to one another and care for one another. It will mean decisions that are difficult. It will mean loss and sacrifice. It will take us into places that are scary and unknown and sometimes places where it seems there is only death. It is into those very places that Jesus calls us to make room for life.  

We are trying to be the church in difficult times. The pandemic has taken over five million lives. There have been more than 37,000 deaths to gun violence in the United States this year alone. Suicide is among the leading causes of death in our country. Our planet is dying before our own eyes. As we have made decisions over the last twenty months, we are not just talking about what we should do, we are asking “who could die if we do this?” Death is not hypothetical.  

We worship a God who teaches us again and again that death is not the last word. People are dying around us. God is not shielding us from death, but rather calling us to be the ones who will “practice resurrection” to use Wendell Berry’s words.  

God is at work in the world right now. God is breathing life into those places where this is no hope, where there is nothing but death. God is showing us a new way. As Kate Bowler says, “God can make things new with or without us. But God chooses to use us.” Be warned, we are going to be asked to get involved. God will remove the stones from places we believed were only death. Then we are called to step in and begin the process of unbinding. 

Wes Seeliger didn’t experience deep joy until he risked losing his precious cars. Susan taught him that life is to be lived out in the world and that means things will get dirty and broken along the way. But she showed him to live fully. 

Before he became a full-time poet, David Whyte tells about being stressed and feeling like he was in a dead-end. He met with Brother David Stendl-Rast and said, “Speak to me of exhaustion.”  [David Stendl-Rast] put his glass down for a moment and realized that David Whyte was absolutely exhausted.  David Stendl-Rast said, “You know, David, the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest.”  And David Whyte repeated, “The antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest.  What is the antidote to exhaustion?”  He said, “The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.  This is the point where you have to take a full step into your métier (meh·tee·ay), into your future vocation, and wholeheartedly risk yourself in that world.” (https://gratefulness.org/dw-session-1-transcript/).   

In 2017, we took Kadhim Albumohammed into Sanctuary at First Congregational, Albuquerque. We did this with the support of the Southwest Conference, Bill Lyons, Ken Heintzelman, and Brendan Mahoney who flew to Albuquerque to talk with us about the legal implications of this decision. Kadhim was from Iraq. He worked for the U.S. military to teach them language and culture with the promise that they would take care of him. Instead, he received a letter to report for deportation. To be deported was guaranteed torture and death. He had betrayed his country and he would pay for it if he was sent home. In November that year, the Native American youth from the Rehoboth School in Gallup came to sing for worship. Afterward, they asked to hear Kadhim’s story. He spoke with them and then they asked him to stand in the middle of the sanctuary. They formed a circle around him and sang the words, “We are not alone.” When I hear these words, I am reminded that in the most difficult situations, God is with us.  

Susan, First Church friends, today you commit to ministry together and my prayer for all of you is to do so wholeheartedly, to ground yourself in a God who calls us to life and to know this work must be done together. God is with you. May you discover the fullness of God’s love as you practice resurrection in the days to come. 

Wait—what??

by Rev. Deb Worley

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night,
but even darkness is not dark for you,
and the night is as bright as the day….”

(Psalm 139:11-12)

Wait—what??

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night…”

I don’t know about you, but I tend to want the exact opposite–
generally, I want to get out of the darkness;
I’m eager for the night to become day,
for the darkness to turn to light…

Why was the psalmist wanting the darkness to hide him?
Why, if he was in the light, was he wanting that light to become dark? 

I can’t help but wonder if he was feeling ashamed of something–
ashamed, and wanting to hide away in the dark….

Or perhaps he was feeling depressed–
and wanting to keep others from seeing it….

Maybe he was feeling
unwanted, unworthy,
unlikable, unlovable–
and imagining 
that if he couldn’t see himself,
his feelings of wretchedness
would be similarly invisible….

Those kinds of feelings
can make us want to hide,
can make us afraid
of anyone looking too deeply into us,
can cause us to wish
that any light that happens to be shining on us
would magically turn to darkness,
suddenly turn to night….

Those kinds of feelings can cause us
to not want to be seen,
to feel ashamed to be known,
to feel unworthy of being loved….

Those kinds of feelings, I can imagine,
might lead us to want
to be hidden in the darkness,
to be hidden by the darkness….

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night…”

Hmmm…I think I get it….

And yet…
the psalmist realizes
that even in the darkness,
he won’t be hidden from God.
Even if the light turns to night,
God will still see him.

God will still see him,
and seeing him, God will love him. 

God will still see him–and his shame and depression–
and God will love him.

God will still see him–and his feelings of being unworthy and unlovable–
and God will love him.

The psalmist realizes that
no matter the darkness of the night,
no matter the darkness of his soul, 
the brightness of God’s love will shine on him still.
Period.

He need not fear the light,
he need not fear being seen,
he need not long to be hidden by the dark.

He is seen by God, and he is loved.
Period.

So it is for us.

May the peace of God be with us all.
Amen.
Deb

He makes me lie down

by Rev. Deb Worley

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures….”

(Psalm 23:1-2)

“He makes me lie down…”

I have been struck by that phrase for years. In fact, I looked back last night at something I wrote in April 2017 about it, and it felt surprisingly relevant to our current COVID experience….

I’d like to share that reflection here. Here goes:

The 23rd psalm–such a familiar and beloved psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….”

Unlike many other familiar Biblical passages, it is, perhaps, a passage that remains most familiar to many people in the language of the King James Bible:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me….”

Even the rhythm of the words seems to bring comfort, in addition to the assurance that the words themselves convey! It’s a psalm of trust, a song of comfort, a declaration of quiet confidence in the power, the compassion, the benevolence, and the Goodness of God.

There’s one verse in particular, however, that is speaking to me as I read this psalm today. One part of one verse, in fact, that is calling me to deeper reflection:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” (Ps. 23:2a, NRSV)

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….”  What’s not to like? Lush, green pastures, with pillowy tufts of grass inviting me to lie down and rest. Lush, green pastures, ready and waiting for me to pause, sink down into them, and be rejuvenated.

Of course, God would want, would invite, me to lie down in such a place if God’s purpose was that my soul might be restored (cf. vs 2b)!

Would my soul be restored by, say, lying down in a barren, parched desert?  I don’t think so….

Would my soul be restored by resting in a crowded, noisy shopping mall?  Not so much….

Would my soul be restored if I tried to unwind in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language or understand the culture?  Not likely.

So God, in God’s infinite wisdom, would understandably invite me to stop, to rest, to lie down in a peaceful place, a comfortable place, a place of obvious restoration. God would invite me to lie down in green pastures….

But wait–that’s not actually what the psalm says–God doesn’t invite me to lie down in green pastures, as it turns out. The psalm says that God makes me lie down in green pastures….

Hmm….Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place? Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Today [mind you, this was April 30, 2017!], I find myself considering the idea of being made to lie down, of being forced to rest, of having no choice but to accept a period of inactivity and stillness–all of which seem to imply some sort of resistance, some degree of reluctance, some level of unwillingness on the part of, well, me….

Where might that resistance to “lie down” come from? Does it come from me not wanting to stop doing what I’m doing? Does it come because I’m afraid I won’t know who I am or what my purpose is if I stop doing what I’m doing?

Where might that reluctance to rest come from? Does it come from me being comfortable where I am? Does it come because the place where I’m being made to “lie down” seems somehow uncomfortable? 

Where might that unwillingness to be still come from? Does it come from a feeling that it’s not okay to not be active? Does it come from an impression that it’s a sign of laziness and/or selfishness, or something similarly unacceptable, to not be busy, or productive, or useful, all the time? 

Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place?

Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Maybe, from my perspective, the place where God wants me to “lie down,” to be still, doesn’t look like green pastures at all, but more like an empty, parched desert–lonely…uncomfortable…too quiet…devoid of water and life… Or maybe, from where I stand, my assigned place of inactivity appears more like a shopping mall–noisy…crowded…overflowing with too much stimulation…. Or maybe, the place that God knows will be “green pastures” for me feels for all the world like a foreign land–a place totally unknown, with practices I’m not familiar with and a language I don’t understand….

Perhaps it feels like God is forcing stillness and inactivity on me, that God is making me lie down, in a place that does not seem peaceful, that does not feel comfortable, that does not fit any notion I’ve ever had or could even ever imagine as being the least bit restorative to my burdened soul….

Yet here I am, being made to lie down in green pastures, so that my soul might be restored….

“Clearly, God, You don’t know what You are doing, if You think this— 

[desert/shopping mall/foreign land…health crisis/job loss/loved one’s death…

whatever it is that forces us, reluctantly, into a period of inactivity and stillness…]

–is a green pasture!”


…or could it be that we don’t know what God is doing??…and that “this” is, in fact, in spite of what it may look and feel like to us, a place of green pastures, meant for the restoration of our souls??….

Amen.

And peace be with us all.
Deb