Advent I: Illumination

 

Advent I: Illumination

 

Romans 13:11-14

Salvation is near; wake from sleep 

 

13:11 Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is already the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers;

 

13:12 the night is far gone; the day is near. Let us then throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light;

 

13:13 let us walk decently as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in illicit sex and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy.

 

13:14 Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

 

 

I confess that I did not read the first Harry Potter novel before seeing the initial film. I am generally not a reader of fiction, and had read about the growing influence of the first J.K. Rowling effort on young readers, which impressed me. “The boy who lived” had caught the attention of similarly young boys and girls who had started to drift more heavily toward video games and iPhones, than libraries and books. Jill Rowling’s first book attempted to turn that tide, and it was working. Then, the masters of Hollywood got ahold of the magic, and produced a magnificent film that allowed us non-fiction readers to get on board the Hogwarts Express. My daughter, the literature major, took us to see “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” and we were hooked. How many years later, and we’ve seen all of the films more than once, and have made two “pilgrimages” to Universal Studio’s “Wizarding World of Harry Potter,” the first very early after its first chapter opened, and the latest, just a couple of years ago, in its current state. What they have done to bring the stories to life is just short of miraculous. I also have actually read a couple of Rowling’s novels in the sequence.

 

Why am I telling you this? Well, as the Harry Potter series unfolded, the tenor of the stories kept getting darker and darker, until Hogwarts became the scene of what could best be summed up as a “winner take all” apocalypse, pitting “He Who Must Not Be Named” against the heavily patinaed, young-adult Potter. The bright colors of the first two films were now replaced with the muted shades and the shadowy lighting of the later movies. Things got REALLY dark, which “scared” many more conservative Christians who had already pretty much written off the series as “of the devil,” or whatever. (From the beginning they discounted the concept that Rowling’s tales were modernized, highly creative versions of classical English “wizard’s tales,” most connected with the Arthurian legends. Merlin became Dumbledore and Morgan le Fay morphed into Valdemort. Ultimately, both story lines go dark before the dawn of heroism wins the day. It’s this shift toward darkness that reminded me of the lectionary text I chose for this week’s sermon.

 

I happen to like the darkness, especially as long as it is safe. Oh, I’m not one to wander aimlessly in dark areas of the city at night, especially alone, and especially where I know the crime rate is higher than usual. As an amateur astronomer, I enjoy taking my “smart” telescope, and occasionally my “old fashioned” straight optical telescope out into the darkness to capture God’s celestial creation in digital images. I confess that I’m now going out with a bit more fear and trepidation into my local night, now that we have had frequent visits by a neighborhood BEAR, just 20 feet from where I like to set up my telescopes! But still, I like the darkness, and what wonderful lights in the heavens one can see on clear nights. There is something soothing and peaceful about the darkness, but obviously, it may also mask more than just the colors—it may also hide danger, or even the little things we are likely to stumble over. In most narrative, AND in film, darkness often foreshadows a turn toward a less desirable event or a shift in the direction of the story, and it’s usually not good. 

 

The Apostle Paul worried about the “darkness” that might try to overcome the fledgling Christian church. The darkness Paul wrote about wasn’t always “evil.” It might be just a shift in doctrines that caused schism, or at least sought to give power to one faction over another. It could be a political “infection” that might turn what Jesus wanted to be a benevolent faith community ruled by mutual love and compassionate mercy into a juggernaut of “we’re RIGHT” over “YOU’RE wrong” factions, with a destructive, judgmental bent. This latter darkness is what kept Paul up at nights, if not the loud singing going on in the prisons he seemed to frequent. Was he right to be concerned? Just ask the “brands” of Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians, and Baptists that have proliferated, as well as the “independent” churches! Paul would be turning over in his grave, and Jesus might, too, if he were still dead.

 

We live in a time when the darkness—and NOT just religious darkness—threatens to undo the “goods” that society has historically wrought. Our own “American experiment” is getting quite clouded, if not downright slipping into dark skies, right now. What scares me is that Donald Trump was just the “trigger” that opened the floodgates of a large share of Americans who apparently believe we SHOULD be more of a dictatorship, if the “chosen leader” agrees with their views. Otherwise, “Lock ‘em up!” Political violence and its escalation is the darkest moment our country has seen since the Civil War. We are under the darkness of the widest income inequity our nation has ever seen, too. The “haves” now have MUCH more, and the “have nots” are losing even more ground, including essential “safety net” programs like SNAP (“food stamps”) and subsidies to help them pay for healthcare. We are in a time when the Department of Education—which has advanced early, childhood education as a remedy for poverty—is now being disassembled. What was the Department of Defense is now the “War Department,” running counter to America’s insistence on the world stage that our military is for DEFENSE, only. Obviously, Russia and China have noticed this switch, and are themselves ramping up their own “war departments.” This kind of darkness could get us all killed. We are also seeing darker days for the efforts to combat human-caused climate change. Unfortunately, if this erosion of a global cause continues, especially on our part, the “dark skies” may cease to be a metaphor.

 

I worry about the moral state of our society, as well. I know that sounds like a “preacher” thing, but our decline in common decency is being displayed on the highways, the airways, and on the airwaves, as well. People drive and fly with a chip on their shoulders, and name-calling and fight-picking is all the rage on our media. Only PBS has remained civil, and it is being cut from the federal budget, of course. Church attendance is way down, as people fill their schedules with personal leisure rather than community-based activities like church activities and Christian education. There was a time when religious leaders saw a “positive” in that persons were describing themselves as “spiritual,” but there are indications that this is looking more like people are defining their own, highly-personalized “religion” that serves merely their own needs. It is not translating out into any kind of community life. For the church, these are certainly not “this little light of mine” times.

 

Jesus, Paul, and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. all taught us that if there’s one thing that can conquer the darkness, it is LIGHT. Christ came to BE the light that would drive out darkness in each of us, and eventually the world. This light still shines, and is still “lighting up” souls. For now, the illumination of the world seems like something more on the apocalyptic horizon than in the near future, but Paul tells us to not be discouraged. There is an inevitability clearly shining through this text from Romans. And those of us who are believers were told by Jesus to be the “light of the world,” ourselves. He talked of how no one lights a lamp and hides it under a basket. We are to “let our light shine,” as it can drive out the darkness. Right now, the church looks like its batteries are winding down, doesn’t it? 

 

We let our light shine by doing good works, according to both Paul and John Wesley. The nice thing about good works is that they are a positive public witness, AND they directly benefit those who are on the receiving end of them. Another way we can be further illuminated is to pick up the mantle of being a life-long learner, again. Knowledge is the fuel of the proverbial “lamp of learning.” Almost every university on the face of the planet has a “lamp of learning” in its crest, somewhere. AND right now, even the universities are being hammered by the forces of darkness right now, as they are being accused of being “woke.” What does Paul say here? “…it is already the moment for you to wake from sleep.” We are CALLED to be “woke.” First, to the call of Christ to be saved, then to work for human justice. Ending poverty and hunger, political oppression, and providing healing and wholeness through affordable healthcare and a decent public education, are the kinds of “woke” items that are currently under attack, as is one of the most important justice goals—dismantling racism. An “awakened” society is one where the various degrading “isms” have been stamped out, which is hard for us to accomplish, thanks to those who stand to benefit from people being disempowered and relegated to lesser economic levels of the society. Christians who wish to be “enlightened” beings, must necessarily be “woke,” at least according to the Apostle Paul, Jesus, and Dr. King.

 

As we begin the Advent journey, may we take these words of Paul in Romans to heart. May we “put on” Christ AND the “armor of light” to tackle the darkness, and may we seek illumination of our minds, not just satisfaction for our bellies. May we take up Mr. Wesley’s call to be agents of grace and advocates for the downtrodden, instead of claiming WE are the ones being persecuted! Maybe we all need to re-read Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, “Learning to Walk in the Dark,” wherein she helps us find our way in the darkness, realizing that God can be here, too, and can help us find our way back to the light. There ARE lessons in the darkness, and one of them is, WE DON’T WANT TO STAY HERE! We are better than this. Paul says we can be DECENT people again, thanks to Jesus Christ, God’s grace, and our own decision to make it happen. 

 

If indeed Advent is a time for new beginnings and harkening back to the Christ who came to save the world AND us, then may this be a season of illumination and discovery. And may we wear the wardrobe of light, not darkness. Church, let’s get that lamp out from underneath that bushel basket and let it shine! Stop fighting over stupid rules and doctrines and “let your love flow,” as the song says. The world will gravitate toward the light of love and acceptance, and run away from the talk of dogmas and schisms. It IS the season of illumination, so let us WAKE UP and SHINE, Beloved! Amen.

Car 54, Where Are You? Part II

 

Car 54 Where ARE You? Part II

 

Psalm 46

The God of Jacob is our stronghold 

 

46:1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

 

46:2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea,

 

46:3 though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah

 

46:4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.

 

46:5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns.

 

46:6 The nations are in an uproar; the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice; the earth melts.

 

46:7 The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah

 

46:8 Come, behold the works of the LORD; see what desolations he has brought on the earth.

 

46:9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.

 

46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth."

 

46:11 The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah

 

It was a TV show from 1961 to 1963. Joe E. Ross and Fred Gwynne starred as two, somewhat aloof New York police officers patrolling in Car 54. For those of you interested in such things, regulars on the show included two African American actors who would go on to bigger and better things—Nipsey Russell and Ossie Davis—as well as Al Lewis, who would later play Grandpa Munster to Fred Gwynne’s Herman. Since it was a comedy, the standard plotline was that the bumbling officers would get a case, which they, well, bumbled, but eventually stumbled into solving, before the episode’s end. It was a few notches above “My Mother, the Car,” with Gwynne’s Officer Muldoon character being a bit bookish (he actually had a college degree) AND given that the show did feature regular African American actors who weren’t stumblebums, and who didn’t have to tap dance. The title of the show, “Car 54, Where Are You?” telegraphed the central plotline, that Car 54 was often nowhere to be found when the trouble started.

 

God can be like that. This simple statement will elicit a plethora of reactions, I’m sure. Some of you will jump on it, proclaiming that God is ALWAYS present, and watching over the welfare of God’s people. God just doesn’t always do things the way WE want them done. Others—especially persons who have been through some hellacious experience—may quickly agree, namely that God is absent when the trouble starts. They may backfill with a consolation affirmation, that God DID show up just in the nick of time, “stumbling” into being helpful, in some way, especially if they feel the resolution to their crisis was positive. I guess we will never know how those folks who didn’t make it through their catastrophe felt about God’s intervention, or lack thereof. Speak to someone who claims to be a “nonbeliever,” and you will often find at the root of their lack of faith is a story about a time when they, or a loved one, needed God’s intervention, and none came. You can see how they could draw the “there is no God” conclusion, can’t you? At the very least, it appears God can be rather selective of when to interject Godself into our situations; some might even say, random. What are we to make of this silence on the other end of the “police radio” when calling for help?

 

Let’s look at Psalm 46. It begins with a subtitle added by a commentator, “The God of Jacob is our stronghold.” This isn’t much of an endorsement, in my opinion. Jacob was such a conniving scoundrel, that if he and Yahweh were so tight, I’d be more weary of Yahweh. Discounting this “subtitle,” let’s look at the text. The very first verse of the psalm is what led to this message’s subject: Is God indeed a “very present help in trouble”? During a discussion in one of his movies about his own lack of faith, actor/director Woody Allen questioned, “My God, my God, what has Thou done LATELY?” It’s easy for our theology to postulate God as the “unmoved mover” of the early American deists, sitting high in God’s heaven, watching as a non-helicoptering “parent” to see how we handle things, and reserving a “that’s a shame” assessment when something goes awry. It’s much harder to postulate a God who really DOES know how many hairs (or follicles?) are on our heads, and who will be that “very present help” when it all hits the fan.

 

The next two verses make it sound like God is more a member of the Sierra Club than someone interested in our hairstyle. God is concerned for nature and the earth, this we know. If da Vinci were still around, I’m sure he’d be quite happy that we’ve taken good care of the Mona Lisa, putting it behind bulletproof glass and surrounding it in nitrogen. Artists always are concerned with their creations. Verse 5 tells us that God harbors concern for the city. I’m guessing this is all about the Jewish preoccupation with “Zion”--the Holy City—Jerusalem. We could do several hundred sermons on the symbolic significance of Jerusalem to God’s people, a sentiment and priority that has certainly not let up at all in our time. Even our current President, during his first term, “knighted” Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. But does this verse mean God cares for the NEEDS that arise around cities? Cities are not only centers of business, commerce, education, and medical resources, but they are often magnets for the poor and marginalized. Why? Initially because they have the most jobs available, but also possibly because other vital resources are within walking distance, or accessible via public transportation. Given that the apocalyptic prophecies of the Bible imagine Heaven as a great city, we can affirm that God does favor cities, or at least those who write as spokespersons, do.

 

Verse 6 extends God’s attention to “nations” and “kingdoms,” with what I have to see is actually a prayer on the part of the psalmist that God will “make wars cease” and “melt” the threats to civilization and the ongoing welfare of humanity. It certainly isn’t a report of current reality, is it? Where IS God, in the midst of the genocide, needless wars over land, power, and wealth, and, God help us, over RELIGIOUS disputes? There is a repeated refrain in Psalm 46: “The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah” Again, is this more of a prayer than a promise? I learned that “Selah” is possibly a musical notation similar to a “repeat,” meaning pause and rethink this. It’s good counsel for those of us wanting to believe that God did not just “wind the watch” and walk away. It bears repeating over and over again, that God WILL BE our refuge. Car 54 may finally show up!

 

Ultimately, I think the secret to the “Where is God” question is in verse 10: “Be still, and know that I am God!” The older I get, the more I find forms of meditation and “stillness” to be cathartic and formative to my spirituality. As an academic at heart, I have in my earlier years reveled in “doing theology” and absorbing the history of the faith. I have been a “proud United Methodist,” celebrating the good things about Wesleyan theology and practice. Honestly, this stuff is fading into the background radiation for me. Being quiet, contemplating my place in God’s universe, and taking stock of what I should be doing to enjoy the great gifts of life, love, and relationships, and finding simple, often subtle ways to make life better for those around me. It’s probably a feature of getting old, but almost every morning between 4:00 and 4:30AM, I’m up to answer the call of nature, only to return to bed and be WIDE awake, my brain firing up like a Falcon 9, thinking it’s time to be thinking. My earliest reaction to this phenomenon was to lie there going with the burst of creativity it was coming up with, but that turned out to be a dead end, for if I DID fall back asleep, nearly every good idea that had been generated had fallen back into the ether. Of late, what I have been doing during these times is trying to be still and enter into a meditative state, of sorts. I’ll hold my hands together in a pyramid fashion, close my eyes, and think of things to put my racing brain at rest. I have to confess that my best “mantra” comes from my favorite baseball movie, “For the Love of the Game,” starring Kevin Costner as Billy Chapel, an aging pitcher who finds himself in the middle of pitching a perfect game. At the start of each inning, he closes his eyes and chants inwardly, “Clear the mechanism.” I use this as I’m chilling the ol’ Falcon 9 Merlins from taking off. Next, I try to imagine where I am at this moment in the realm of the Almighty. I find myself safe, at home, in a comfortable bed, next to the most amazing woman in the world, retired from the “grind” of the ever-beckoning shackle of responsibility, and “feeling” the presence of a greater Creative Presence deep in my soul. If I get this far, I am already headed toward peace. Sometimes it puts me back asleep, but more often than not, it delivers me to a higher state of listening. I feel I can “hear” God addressing with much wisdom the bigger questions that come to mind in this silence. I don’t always achieve answers, but the peace of Psalm 46’s “God is our refuge” visits me in those moments. 

 

In police radio lingo, “What’s your 20?” is a request for “Where ARE you?” This sermon started out questioning God, “What’s your 20?” What Psalm 46 is trying to tell us is that we should be hearing GOD asking US, “What’s your 20?” Being still is the best answer to the question, for it is there we find what we are looking for. I’m not trying to make excuses for God’s “inaction,” just suggesting—as I believe does the psalmist—that this essential stillness is what gets us to connect with the creative source of wisdom, and guides us to our “next steps” to milk the most out of God’s gift of life for ourselves, our loved ones, and others. Acting on this may require more than just the discovery of “meaning.” We may have to give more, or to volunteer, or to feed people. We may have to ramp up our prayer life and rally around those who we see suffering. We may have to take on injustice at the voting booth, by writing our legislators, or by speaking out against the wrongs we witness, especially when WE are not the ones being wronged! But starting with silence is a good idea. God WILL show up, believe me. No, God will not snap God’s fingers and just “fix” it, but it’s clear from the long, biblical witness that God CAN and DOES empower God’s people to methodically make repairs.

 

Another police radio term is “10-4,” meaning “I acknowledge.” Let’s not waste our energy waiting for God’s “10-4.” I think we have that already; his name is Jesus. Instead, may we go to the silence, be still, and offer God OUR “10-4,” and get with the program. Amen.

 

 

 

Longing for That Starry Night

 

Longing for That Starry Night

 

Isaiah 65:17-25

New heavens and a new earth 

 

65:17 For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.

 

65:18 But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating, for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy and its people as a delight.

 

65:19 I will rejoice in Jerusalem and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it or the cry of distress.

 

65:20 No more shall there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime, for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.

 

65:21 They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.

 

65:22 They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat, for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.

 

65:23 They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity, for they shall be offspring blessed by the LORD-- and their descendants as well.

 

65:24 Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear.

 

65:25 The wolf and the lamb shall feed together; the lion shall eat straw like the ox, but the serpent--its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.

 

 

The idea for this message came to me just after I read the lectionary selections for this weekend, most especially being jarred by the fantastic promises of this chapter 65 passage from Trito-Isaiah. A few minutes later, I was staring down the path from Groves Lodge toward the Manor at Olmsted Manor, looking over a table populated by a 1,000-piece puzzle of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.” The puzzle was incomplete. Aren’t we all looking for that starry night, I thought? Ralph Waldo Emerson is credited with the poetic line, “When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” Don’t we all hope that is true, given we are now experiencing some dark nights?

 

Olmsted Manor, like many similar church “camps,” is experiencing an existential moment. COVID put a serious crimp in the operation of so many retreat-oriented facilities, the shrinking economy has put yet another fold in it, and the cultural changes happening all around us has only sped up the harmful process. Costs to run such facilities are up, usage is down, and funding alternatives are far fewer, especially due to the disaffiliation in the United Methodist realm. While our camps and retreat facilities have pledged to continue to serve both the UMC and the Global Methodists, it does not seem like the fledgling product of this most recent church schism is interested in taking up the offer. My wife, Dara, is on the board of Olmsted Manor, an organization that I served as board president of for almost ten years. The current board is dealing with realities similar to what we experienced during my tenure (COVID shut-downs and the need to install a modern water system to the tune of $500,000). As I looked out that window to the beauty of Olmsted, framed by the Starry Night puzzle, I contemplated Isaiah 65. 

 

In those few moments, I also thought about the federal government shutdown and the people it has already affected. I worried about those who had zero dollars deposited in their SNAP accounts these past two weeks, and fellow seniors who had no one to talk to when needing to contact the Social Security Administration. I couldn’t help but also be concerned for the 14 million Americans who may lose their healthcare coverage, should the Affordable Care Act credits be allowed to expire, thanks to the Big Beautiful Bill passed by Congress. Is it dark enough to see the stars, yet, Ralph? Vincent, will we be able to see the swirling stars in your Starry Night masterpiece? God, will we ever be able to see the fulfilment of Isaiah 65? My gut feeling must be at least a free sample of what God’s people Israel experienced when they heard these words of Isaiah 65: “We so BADLY need this, but I’m not feeling it!”

 

Have you ever noticed that picture puzzles are much like Bible prophecies? The box shows you what it should look like when everything comes together, but when you dump out those 1,000 tiny pieces, all seems near hopeless. My wife loves doing picture puzzles, and she has her “method,” as would any good Methodist. She turns all of the pieces over to the picture side, begins separating out the flat-edged “border” pieces, and then starts grouping the remaining pieces by color or subject matter. She starts with the border, possibly because her personality type likes to know its limits, first. I don’t have the patience for spending long periods of time poring over a picture puzzle, but when I do, I begin by looking at piece shape, generally ignoring clues such as subject or color. I am most frustrated by those puzzles that manage to shape the pieces almost identically, forcing the latter comparisons. I guess I’m the same with interpreting the Bible? I could never be a literalist, in this regard. In seminary, I passionately resonated with a statement attributed to Karl Barth, the Swiss pastor and theologian: “I take the Bible too seriously to take it literally.” As a journalist, I also resonated with the tongue-in-cheek line, “All the news that’s print to fit.” Like putting together a picture puzzle, I just try to make the pieces fit, hoping that the picture will reveal itself in due time. I think prophets like Third Isaiah did exactly the same thing. Their prophecies were one-third spirit-inspired, and two-thirds guttural hope.

 

What will it take for us to see that starry night in our time? Let’s look at the words of Trito-Isaiah:

 

New heavens and a new earth: I don’t know about the “new heavens,” for, as an amateur astronomer, I think the present ones are quite amazing. I spend countless hours with my “smart telescope” deployed, enjoying the mysteries and spectacular displays of the present “heavens.” I do accept the idea of a “new earth,” though, for we are well on our way of corrupting this one beyond recognition. On our recent nine-day cruse across the South Pacific, I was shocked by the amount of garbage and “plastic crap” we sailed passed in the middle of the ocean. “Green energy” will only help if it is more widely adopted, and our own country has taken a powder on this. Oh, and I’ll not even wade into Isaiah’s promise that “the former things will not be remembered” line. It will take a long, LONG time to forget the damage being done to humanity and good intentions by the actions of the selfish, egotistical leaders we have currently in the seat of power, and not just here in the United States.

 

No more shall there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime…: Our own country has one of the worst infant mortality rates of any “civilized” nation, and the patent disrespect we show our elderly is unique among the nations of the world. Why? I’m open to any suggestions beyond just that we are heinously self-centered, and happy with the “wealth flows upward” tenet of unregulated capitalism. We are living in a time of the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Years ago, someone hypothesized that, if you were to redistribute a society’s wealth across the broad spectrum of that society, with a fairly short period of time, those who were originally wealthy would be wealthy again, and those who were at first poor, would be poor again. I’m sure this is correct, because “handling money responsibility” is surely a product of education and experience. THIS is why regulations and “caring for the least of these” was a “thing,” even in Jesus’ day! Using this “money flows upward” factoid as a justification for deregulating the economy is not only folly, it is downright cruel. And how long will a hurting society wait for the “wealthy” to gain a conscience? Ask Elon Musk, who just got a TRILLION DOLLAR payday! 

 

They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit: If the world has a homelessness problem, the United States is its capital city. Every town of every size has unhoused persons wandering the streets, pushing their entire worldly possessions in an old shopping cart, and begging at traffic lights for money to feed themselves. Yeah, I’ve heard all the arguments about how “it is their own fault,” or “they are actually wanting money for drugs or alcohol,” and “they won’t use the shelters because they suffer from mental illness.” While all of these things may be true, to some extent, why can’t a progressive, advanced society that can put a smart phone in everyone’s pocket solve THESE challenges so our citizens can’t get the help they need and have a roof over their heads? We seem satisfied to live in a society of “haves” and “have nots.” Isaiah was not impressed, and neither did he think God was. Speaking for the Divine, Third Isaiah thought that people should have shelter and food. It’s that simple, and for the believer, we should not find satisfaction until this prophecy is fulfilled.

 

Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear: I think God is trying to keep up God’s end of the bargain. If it were not for the times when God has intervened in human affairs, I think we would have long since vanished from this planet. Also, God IS willing to answer, but are we speaking? What ARE we praying for, if anything? And are we just sending up our personal shopping list without listening to see if God has a message or marching orders for us? I find myself thinking often about the efficacy of prayer. I have come to accept as a matter of faith that prayer is an important and good thing, and that I should do it, regardless of my understanding of how it works, similar to breathing. I know that if I stop breathing, I will cease to live. As a believer, if I cease praying, I will therefore cease to believe, after a time. Prayer is like breathing, for a believer. Beyond this, prayer is also a kind of self-reflection, serving to internalize our “dreams” for our life, our family, and for the world. Praying, therefore, can be an exercise in externalizing these dreams. Maybe when we pray them—externalize them—we will be compelled to work for them? So many of my prayers can be fulfilled by my own actions; do I hear the Spirit of God saying, “Then go DO that!”? God is not the genie in the lamp. God is the lamp.

 

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together: While it would be cool to see this happen among the members of the animal kingdom, I watch enough Nature episodes with David Attenborough to know that it might not be the best for them, if they were to fully “be at peace” with one another. Indeed, some might even starve. I’m thinking these words of the prophet are more about the nations of the world, and our world leaders? Putin is a wolf, as is North Korea’s Kim Jong Un. China’s Xi seems to want to be more of a lamb, albeit an economically-driven one, while the European “pride” is largely lambs, hoping for a world where “we all just get along.” The United States has played the role of the heavy-feeding, heavy-lifting OX, most of the time, and occasionally taking on a reconciling “lamb” role. Now, we have a wolf in charge, and it could potentially throw the world off its axis, peace-wise. It is time for the peacemakers Jesus talked about. We should pray for them, be them, and look for the blessings of peace, rather than join in the lion’s roar, as people of faith, in my opinion. But, of course, I’m not a literalist…

 

Third Isaiah envisions a world that we STILL can’t yet grasp. The border pieces of his “puzzle” are not yet together, let alone the main body of the picture. A few minutes after I was glancing over the far-from-finished puzzle of the Van Gogh at Olmsted, my dear wife came along and pointed to it, saying, “That was here back in July, and it doesn’t look like much has been done to it, since then.” Therein lies my greatest fear with the “world puzzle” of Isaiah’s (and God’s?). Who will pick up the mantle of completing the puzzle of God’s “Starry Night” if we don’t? And how will the church become a key—if not THE key—agency for fleshing out the picture? We must first believe this is the picture God wants us to present to the rest of the world, and THEN we must want it with a passion. 

 

Are WE longing for Isaiah’s Starry Night? Think about it, Beloved. Shalom…

 

 

Gold Mine

 

Gold Mine

 

Haggai 2:1-2:9

 

2:1 In the second year of King Darius, in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month, the word of the LORD came by the prophet Haggai, saying:

 

2:2 "Speak now to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest, and to the remnant of the people, and say:

 

2:3 Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?

 

2:4 Yet now take courage, O Zerubbabel, says the LORD; take courage, O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest; take courage, all you people of the land, says the LORD; work, for I am with you, says the LORD of hosts,

 

2:5 according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you; do not fear.

 

2:6 For thus says the LORD of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land,

 

2:7 and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations will come, and I will fill this house with splendor, says the LORD of hosts.

 

2:8 The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the LORD of hosts.

 

2:9 The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the LORD of hosts, and in this place I will give prosperity, says the LORD of hosts."

 

 

An old friend of mine and I used to tease each other about naming one of our children, “Zerubbabel.” One of the great Bible names, what nicknames could it possibly spawn? Zero? Bub? Babel? ZB? Thankfully, our sense overcame our inner “Monty Python,” and none of our children ever had to wear this moniker like a millstone around their neck. Still, it’s an interesting name, memorialized in this passage as one of the ancient leaders of Israel. God had a message for him.

 

Israel was at one of its nadirs, and God wanted to reassure them that God had NOT forgotten them. Indeed, the core message was, “My Spirit abides among you.” God was about to stir the pot again, to the end that Israel will be reestablished and reborn. It happened a lot, because Israel knew how to fall hard. Yes, they were victimized by being a largely religious “theocracy,” surrounded by warring, conquering peoples, but they most often brought their “bad luck” upon themselves. You see, when things were going well for them (thanks to Yahweh), they had a bad habit of believing they were responsible for their own good fortune, and began exhibiting quite arrogant behavior. Then, when the walls fell in, they cried out to God, “believing” that somehow God must be responsible for their plight. At the very least, the “bad guys” who had beat them up deserved a bit of spiritual retribution, so they would pray for it to happen. In my opinion, God too regularly obliged. I’m not really criticizing God, here, for I don’t believe God is this kind of a side-taker, other than to preserve and dignify righteousness. However, we must remember that “history is written by the victors,” as they say, so what we read in the Bible about Israel’s restorations and triumphs must be seen through this “victory” lens. This is a good reason why we should not take the bible “literally” without a thorough review of which “eyeglasses” through which we are viewing the story. The clearest view we get in the Hebrew Bible is through the eyes and preachments of the prophets. Jesus probably gives us the best view of current reality in the New Testament, however, even HERE we are “hearing” his words through the Gospel writers and their later redactors. Again, we should approach the Bible with some degree of caution. If the word is positive and redeeming, we should ask about what “sins” are being forgiven, and if it is doom and gloom, we should ask who’s being blamed for it. Humans have a nasty tendency to take credit for what is good and blame others for what is not. It’s a cheap way to “save face,” and it will reduce genuine religion to a list of platitudes and rules REAL fast. 

 

Honestly, I have a hard time not seeing the Christian church in today’s scripture lection. We have fallen on hard times. There was a time—and I mean a recent one—when the huge “megachurches” were singing songs of triumph, while the historical denominations were reeling and “singing the songs of Zion” in a strange land, the land of “where’d everybody go?” It was easy to suggest that the Megas (maybe too close to MAGA?) were “preaching the fundamental Word” and were therefore prospering, while the “mainline” churches had become too occupied with social justice, dismantling racism, and caring for the poor, thus alienating their people who just wanted to come to church and then go home to watch football. The “prosperity gospel” of the Joel Osteens and the “come to Jesus” message of the evangelicals was both soothing and encouraging. If some, out of being slathered in the “balm” of these messages, chose to show gratitude by helping the downtrodden or people in the Sudan who needed clean water, then sobeit, but this was not the necessary outcome of the Megachurch thrust. Growing was, and growing required lots of cash. And it flowed, often with the promise that the “pressed down, shaken together, running out all over” reward would be forthcoming to those who were generous. “God loves a cheerful giver” would result in that giver being showered abundantly with God’s blessings and a Divine debit card, a secret PIN, and a large balance just waiting to be drawn upon. Then, like overly prosperous Israel, the Mega-thing began to unravel. WAY too many “shepherds” of this movement began their descent into the leadership abyss by preying upon the sheep, if not their bank accounts, then their marriages. “O how the mighty have fallen” could have become the Call to Worship in many of the popular megachurches. They might have spared themselves by reading this text, which reminds us that the GOLD and the SILVER belong to God.

 

Meanwhile, the historical denominational churches began a-splitting over things like “authority of scripture” and “doctrinal purity.” Episcopalians, Lutherans, Presbyterians, and more recently, United Methodists, split apart. Most have recovered from their schisms, or at least have righted themselves, but the United Methodist “ship” is still listing. Many of our charges had been cobbled together to provide a “parish” big enough to function and to pay a pastor a living wage. The disaffiliation reduced many of these charges into two bodies, neither of which can stand on its own. We retired UMC pastors have been pressed into service in an attempt to keep our end of the divided church afloat, and “charge realignments” are the order of the day, going forward. The Global Methodists may or may not support the parts of these charges that left, but their new-found polity doesn’t say they HAVE to, so we’ll see. Whatever, this text from Haggai can speak to the schism, and its sad aftermath, can’t it? The “gold is mine,” says the Lord. Even if some of it appears to be fool’s gold. There are those who say a “revival” is coming. I think it will be a shakeup such as this text mentions. Our hope is in God’s continued presence “among” God’s people, regardless of their chosen “house,” and in the tremendous promise of the last verse: The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the LORD of hosts.

 

Why would God go to such ends to redeem and relaunch a community so intentionally scattered by human folly and selfish, “I’m right” ambitions? Love is most likely the foundational reason. God IS love, and God loves US. If you can get your head around that, then you are a few steps ahead of this preacher. I’m frankly still angry at the theological audacity and idiocy that split my house. Injustices were committed, instead of being remedied and resisted. Accusations were leveled instead of divisions being addressed and reconciled. I don’t know how the “other half” is faring, but my “house” is hurting. At least we can claim to be an inclusive church, sort of. The “each church” can decide clause in OUR new-found polity can hide a multitude of sins, especially for those of us who WANT to be a fully inclusive community of faith. 

 

Another reason God may want to right the ship is that God does hate injustice. That any of God’s people who WANT to be redeemed, reconciled, and included in the church should be able. Years ago, George W. Bush ran under the promise that he was a “uniter, not a divider.” Well, God is a gatherer, not a hunter, and a farmer, not a butcher, when it comes to dealing with God’s people. I’ve been around WAY too many people who just can’t wait for “judgment day” as a time when those who don’t see it their way will get theirs. There will be lots of surprises, me thinks. God loves, God gathers, and God forgives, to the end that GOD is the true “uniter, not a divider.” This is what the text in Haggai is trying to tell us, if we would only listen.

 

If you can’t guess from reading many of my “retirement sermons,” I’m still smarting from this disaffiliation thing. I love God and I love my church, or my “house,” as this text puts it. And I’ll be darned if I can figure how this schism in any way glorifies God Almighty. It still hurts measurably that one of the beloved congregations I served and nurtured chose to disaffiliate, and I’ll be honest, I believe my successor is culpable in driving the movement, and not righteously so. This pastor sold the idea of dividing on the false premise that the congregation would be able to “control their own funds,” should they vote to leave the United Methodist house, a point not lost on a church very heavily endowed with legacy monies. Members were regularly told “it’s not about homosexuality,” which was actually the key issue of the General Conference legislation that opened the door to disaffiliation, in the first place. See what I mean? I’m having serious trouble getting over this whole thing, and the text reminds me I MUST. WE must. And I must believe that “God is among God’s people,” even those who chose to jump ship. I’ll get there, because I always do, thanks be to God. I share this with you, as I’m sure I am not alone in my sentiments and residual anger that plagues me. Let us agree to be open to the Spirit’s healing voice, shall we?

 

Years ago, I heard a story about a man who led a large Christian organization. It had a need for a van to transport clients in its work, so the man prayed and prayed for a van. One day, a benevolent individual offered the organization a used van in useable condition. A few nights after seeing his prayers answered for a van, the director was returning alone in the van after dropping off clients, when it suddenly died in the middle of a very busy highway. Not only had the motor stopped, but all power was gone, and the van was now a dark, “sitting duck” in the middle of the road, and the director could see a huge tractor trailer barreling toward him in his lane. He said a quick prayer, made sure his shoulder harness was snugged, and held the wheel to steer the van away from any oncoming traffic after being launched by the impending collision. The truck saw the stalled van it the last minute, but could not stop in time and collided with it. Thankfully, the director was not hurt, and was able to safely steer the crushed vehicle onto the side of the road, in the aftermath. As he sat there in the crunched van, waiting for the police and emergency crews to arrive, he at first cried AT God: “God, WHY would you answer my prayer for the van, only to allow it to be so quickly destroyed?” He related that after a few minutes of gratitude that neither he nor anyone else had been harmed in the accident, he heard the voice of God say to him, “Bill, whose van IS it?” The director sadly acquiesced, “It’s YOUR van, God.” God spoke again, “Then let me take care of it.” Word got out about the accident and the demolished van. A few days later, the director started receiving calls from caring souls who wanted to contribute funds toward a new van, and even a car dealer phoned to DONATE a brand new van for the ministry. As the director related the story, he said, “A few days later, as I sat at my desk, thumbing through car titles, I was reminded how important it is to realize who the TRUE “owner” is of all we are blessed with!”

 

Haggai got it. He wrote: The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the LORD of hosts. I’m hearing God say to me, “Whose church is it, Jeffrey?” I guess I should listen to Haggai. You think? Amen, beloved.

 

 

 

The Saints In My Head

 

The Saints in My Head

Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18

The holy ones of the Most High 

7:1 In the first year of King Belshazzar of Babylon, Daniel had a dream and visions of his head as he lay in bed. Then he wrote down the dream:

7:2 I, Daniel, saw in my vision by night the four winds of heaven stirring up the great sea,

7:3 and four great beasts came up out of the sea, different from one another.

7:15 As for me, Daniel, my spirit was troubled within me, and the visions of my head terrified me.

7:16 I approached one of the attendants to ask him the truth concerning all this. So he said that he would disclose to me the interpretation of the matter:

7:17 "As for these four great beasts, four kings shall arise out of the earth.

7:18 But the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever--forever and ever."

Have you ever thought much about the stuff that “lives” in your head? What goes on when you dream, or when you daydream? What you are thinking about during your idle times, or when you stare out the window, or just watch the world go by while riding in a car? The realm of the mind is a quite interesting thing, isn’t it? 

Two things I used to tell folk from time to time in my sermons: 

Where does your “inner dialogue” come from? To whom are you “conversing” with that mysterious “partner” in your head? I liked to suggest that possibly the other partner in the conversation is the Spirit of God. Isn’t it interesting to think that God is THAT close to us that when we are having those conversations with our inner voice, we may be actually talking with the living presence of God in us, at least partly? 

 

And related to this, I used to give my listeners “permission” to wander away from the sermon to ponder or daydream, if something from the preaching scripture—or even something from the sermon—provoked the sidebar. After all, if we believe the Holy Spirit really is guiding what is being preached, why not believe that this same Spirit may use a given thought to touch a specific individual, whose own processing—or ruminating—on it might just be what that person needs at that moment in their lives. With this in mind, I would tell folk that if this happens, please go on your merry way, live fully into the “daydream,” extracting as much from it as they could. And when they finish, just rejoin us in the service, as I will most likely still be talking…

 

Personally, I enjoy these “mind vacations,” so much so that I plan for them, from time to time. I like to put on some good music, stare into space, and see what thoughts visit my consciousness at that moment. I suppose this is what some would call “meditation”; possibly others throughout time saw it as a kind of spiritual visitation of ancestors long gone, or even the “spirits” of the wind or water around them, as did the Native Americans who first “owned” America before we stole it from them. There are those who use some form of chemical stimulants such as cannabis or psilocybin to enhance such meditations, but I find them much richer when my conscious, rational mind stays in the conversations, which often can be wild enough, in my experience. Wild, peaceful, or wisdom-bearing, I should say, to be more accurate. Rarely do I find them anxiety-provoking, but I have not found it unusual to be “moved” to take some action, based on what I learn, and often with a sense of urgency. These moments that link my waking thoughts with inner chats in that part of my brain just below consciousness have become precious to me, and I both encourage them and cherish them. I am convinced that so many folk today are coming apart because they eschew these experiences, either because of schedules and responsibilities that encroach on any available time for them to occur, or paradoxically, they cheapen or ruin them by artificially trying to rush or enhance them through chemicals, booze, or some form of forced spirituality or meditative method not born of their own soul. 

 

Since this weekend is what we have adopted as “All Saints Sunday,” following after All Saints Day, I have spent some time thinking about the saints of God—especially my saints—who live in these “twilight zone” inner thoughts and dialogue in my head. Our last surviving parent—my Mom—died just before Thanksgiving last year. This Sunday, her name will be read at a service of remembrance at her church, along with the names of the other saints of that church who passed since last year. All four of our parents still live in my head, as each made important contributions to how and who I am, both as a person and as a person of faith. Unlike many of us, I had a deep, spiritual relationship with a couple—Ed and Marian Apel—who would become my in-laws. Ed and Marian used to invite young people into their home as a place of Bible study, spiritual sharing, and prayer, after encountering such needs among young folk while engaging in Lay Witness Missions. Their faith inspired me and many of my friends. (Believe me, eventually marrying their daughter and becoming part of the family was never in my mind, as SHE was “way out of my league,” as they say! But God is SO good…) My own mother and father never pass from my thoughts, either, as they didn’t just “make” me, but they continued to form me by openly and passionately facilitating my many and various interests. They also went out of their way to trust me, and these two “ingredients”—opportunities to explore my interests, and trust—provided me with a type of freedom most kids only dream about. The ways they generously did this still lives on in my daydreams, which end up as prayers of thanksgiving for Bob and Jean Sterling, saints in my head.

 

There are many more saints in there, too: pastors galore, as I was blessed to have some of the best in my live, both in my home church while growing up, and in my later vocation as a church worker and eventually as an ordained minister. I’ve written and spoken before about the likes of Virgil Maybray, Hugh Crocker, and Lloyd Sturtz, but there is another with whom I worked that I don’t believe I have ever written about. He walked into one of my “head” ruminations this week, as I was reflecting on this message, so I thought I’d mention him. He was an American Baptist pastor, John Harrington, who served the First Baptist Church of Franklin, PA. He hired me to work as a kind of parish associate back in the early 1970s, in a time when I was exploring my young adult faith, and was engaged with what we used to call the “Jesus Movement,” at that time. At the church, I worked with the youth group, and helped the church with general administration and communications. But Pastor John had a great passion for growing peoples’ faith in Christ, and in helping his church reach out into the community, in a day when most churches seemed to be on “autopilot.” It was a time when denominational churches rather thrived on tradition and were still riding the post-war baby boom to prosperity. Somehow, Rev. Harrington seemed to see much earlier the proverbial “handwriting on the wall” that this “wave” would dissipate, and that the church would soon be “competing” for time on peoples’ increasingly busy, and self-centered schedules. He instilled in me a sense of urgency in terms of “keeping the main thing the main thing,” as they say, and focusing on building and encouraging faith. I believe it was some of my many “heady” conversations with John—a proud graduate of Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary, by the way—that resulted in my later ministerial goal of “developing the Christian faith of the people I serve,” which was part of my personal mission statement. Faith development was something most folk needed and understood, and it was something that required more than an hour on Sunday mornings. John Harrington is one of the saints in my head.

 

This weekend’s passage from Daniel got me started on this theme, as it opens with Daniel’s “dreams and visions of his head.” Obviously, Daniel was a young man who spent a lot of time in his own head, and we certainly should learn from that. I have said throughout my life that I was a person who has NEVER been bored, and it is true. Why? Because I learned very early on of the gathering that is always happening inside my own head, just like Daniel. For me, it also began at night time, when I would lay in bed, thinking. I have always had a rich imagination and a very fertile set of “memory banks” that hardly forgot any of the things I have experienced. Maybe this is why I resonate with Daniel, here. To be able to join the inner dialogue in la Cabesa at any point, and to pull from the fast storehouses of memories shelved in the gray matter can both entertain and give way to fresh visions of “what’s next.” For Daniel, his dreams and visions led him to believe that better days were coming for the people of God, and that the “holy ones of the Most High” would receive and rule the kingdom. I believe that, too. Original thoughts, or at least ones kick-started by the Holy Spirit joining the party in my head, not only stave off boredom, but offer hope that better thoughts lead to better life, which may ultimately lead to a better world. Whoever it was who said, “Maybe we should sleep on it,” touched on an important truth. Daniel knew it, and he wasn’t the only prophet of God who did. Don’t you wonder if the ability to WONDER and to PONDER wasn’t what God was looking for in prophets?

 

When Jesus went off by himself, as he often did, the gospel writers said it was to pray. I’m guessing that he was also attending the party in HIS head that I’m sure had an open-door policy. If a guy can spend an evening on a mountain with Moses and Elijah, I’m convinced he could conjure up just about any of the patriarchs and matriarchs to join him in a quiet thought/conversation, in solitude. Solitude is an important element in learning to “listen to your life,” as Frederick Buechner put it. And while our heads may be crowded with thoughts, memories, conversation partners, and those saints who inspired us, you can’t visit it in a crowd of witnesses. It’s something you must do alone. And neither will it work when you fill the ear-gate and the eye-gate with sounds and images. I worry today that just about everyone I see who IS alone, whether it’s at the gym, out running, or even just sitting at the beach, has those earbuds in their ears. I’d like to think that at least some of them are using just the noise-cancelling function of them to blot out the madding crowd so they can think, but I’m doubting it. We seem to have evolved a culture where every waking moment must be filled with something, and if it isn’t, instant boredom. Our inner world is slowly being crushed by stimuli like a walnut in a vise. Don’t let it happen to you!

 

So, on this All Saints Sunday (or weekend), discover anew your inner world! Take some intentional “alone” time to listen to your life. Don’t be alarmed if the first things it tells you sounds like a scolding. After all, when left alone, your inner dialogue partners get bored, too. Keep going, though, as those unpleasant—or at least less than edifying—comments will fade away, giving way to drawers of memories and reminders of unfinished thoughts that you forgot you had left behind. When your inner dialogue partner shows up, be reminded, too, that you may well be talking with God, using the “interface” we know as the Holy Spirit. And like Daniel, be encouraged that the world IS filled with “holy ones of the Most High” who, like the ancient spirits of our Native American siblings, can guide us and inspire us. Pay attention to the saints in your head this weekend, Dear Ones. Enjoy the resulting dreams and visions, and the good conversation with the others who will join you there, thanks to the cumulative and creative power of memory. Once you find the joy and power of this solitude, say a prayer of thanksgiving to the Most High for the Holy Ones who have formed YOUR faith. They are the only cloud of witnesses that truly count. Amen.

Crowns

 

Crowns

 

2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

The good fight of faith 

 

4:6 As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come.

 

4:7 I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.

 

4:8 From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

 

4:16 At my first defense no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be counted against them!

 

4:17 But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion's mouth.

 

4:18 The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and save me for his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen.

 

I’m working on this message while on our cruise, and we just finished a lecture about Salvador Dali’s illustrative watercolors he produced as companion pieces for each of the 100 verses of Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Of course, this epic poem is about his idea of the afterlife as a circuitous journey, starting with hell, at its lowest level, and proceeding upward toward “the heavens,” at its apex. As I remember the poem, we should all be thankful if we don’t end up stuck in the hellish lower levels, let alone griping that we didn’t get some sort of “award” or crown for how we lived our days while still sucking air. I find it humorous to be approaching this particular message after our review of Dante’s masterwork. However, in light of also reflected on the surrealist work of Dali, one of my favorite artists, I suppose the irony is, in itself, a bit surreal.

 

Let me continue to digress a bit, hoping to weave this all back together before this thing gets to the “amen.”

 

Dante’s “Divine Comedy” is surrealist literature, even as Dali’s art is surreal. Both are bold about their views of the Divine mysteries, Dante clearly demonstrating this in his poem, and Dali as a self-proclaimed atheist. As I listened to the lecturer today, it occurred to me that both men’s creative output suggests that they truly had a serious faith in things beyond this, our conscious life, and possibly a profound belief that their was something more, and something greater ahead. Dante’s rumination about it were triggered by the sudden death of his young love, Beatrice. The “Divine Comedy” betrays Dante’s wrestling with the classical “Christian” views of life, death, hell, and heaven. He weaves them all into this profound poem. Dali, on the other hand, calls himself an atheist, yet paints amazing representations of what he experiences in the subconscious realm of his dreams. I wonder if his “atheism” is triggered by the truly surreal landscapes he sees in his dreams, indicating that there is SO much more to reality than what we see while awake, coupled with his interest and knowledge of an emerging field of science in his lifetime—quantum physics. Could he possibly have embraced his atheism because when he looked back at what the church was teaching about the Divine, it could not possibly describe these ever-widening ideas? I must admit that I rarely encounter theologies broad enough to encompass the miraculous world enfolding in the realm of science, knowledge, and the arts. Theology is too often dogmatic and limiting, instead of seeking a broader, more inclusive view. These two greats of literature and art seemed to “get” that there was so much more to life, the universe, and everything—including the Divine—than doctrinal religion could handle, or even wanted to approach. I can get that. I know that we often “blame” the fallout of people—especially the young—from the church on declining interest in morals, or busy agendas, but what if folk are just overwhelmed by the explosion of knowledge at a time when the church is flirting with retrenchment? Maybe there’s more Dante and Dali in us than we might realize.

 

Now, we come to today’s text from the pen of Paul the Apostle. Paul is reflecting on his calling, his ministry as a messenger of the Gospel, and possibly evaluating his perceived effectiveness. We know Paul was an educated man, having studied under one of the great minds of his day, Gamaliel. (When Paul does that thing about “counting it all as garbage” beyond his faith in Christ, we must realize that he is making a value comparison between his love of knowledge and his salvific faith, the latter of which has been transformative. He is not literally throwing his education out with the trash!) Paul is writing to an audience that did not have his background in classical philosophy, history, and civics, so he approaches the afterlife for them using two simple themes: righteous living, and a “heavenly” reward for it. The “man in the street” could understand this: live rightly and in a way that embraces love of God and neighbor; and God will “reward” us when we arrive in the blessed afterlife made possible by the grace of God through the Christ Event. In Paul’s day, a “crown” was both a symbol of social standing and wealth, both things early Christians, most of whom came from neither, might long for. Paul was offering them a simple hope in the midst of the challenges they faced. We modern preachers try to do the same thing, but it is incumbent on us to realize that our folk are more Dante and Dali in regarding the scope of their knowledge, experience, and the questions they bring. (One of my parishioners once told me, “I come to church each week as an atheist, and hope you will prove I am wrong.”) We and the church err when we “dumb down” the faith. Grace may be easy (not cheap), but our questions and the life that generates them are not.

 

In the text, Paul is making a case for living an ethical, “righteous” life, as what will be both honoring to God and an effective witness for the Gospel of Christ. He talks of being “poured out” himself in trying to do so. A true faith life is no easy business. Neither is wearing a crown, by the way, as this, too, carries many obligations. This leads me to one of those personal “sidebar” stories…

 

When I was appointed as lead pastor of St. Paul’s UMC, a few of my ministerial colleagues—who were understandably jealous—questioned what I did to get such a large, “cushy” church job. They saw it as a kind of “crown,” I guess? Having served as an associate pastor there back in the early 1990s, I knew better. While I knew it to be a wonderful and vital church, I also knew the incredible responsibility and heavy workload it presented. There would be nothing “cushy” about it, and that was what I thought was so long before I had to help the church get through the traumatic passing of a truly monumental servant of Christ (and our Administrative Director), Faith Geer, AND the COVID epidemic! My challenge to these colleagues was to come follow me around for a day to see what serving a large, extremely active church was like. Only a couple ever took me up on this, but both said it was a real eye-opener. I can understand what Paul means, at least to some extent, by being “poured out.”

 

Dante may have had the best answer to the best reward of the afterlife—arriving at its highest level. Where he erred, though, was in the idea that righteous living is what gets you there, which might have been the “works righteousness” of the church in his era. What gets us there is nothing but the grace of God. However, Paul is right in saying that both righteous living and “finishing the race” are godly virtues, but they are responses of gratitude for the grace and love of God which we freely receive. AND they are witnesses to the rest of the world of what an effective, compassionate Christian life looks like. Remember, Jesus said that world will know God’s love when they see it working in us!

 

What might be the equivalent of a “crown of righteousness” to us in our day? I would say the satisfied heart. When I live at my most “Christ-like,” I can feel God’s pleasure, as well as my own encouraging contentment. This is no small thing at a time in human history when so many find themselves discontented, angry, or depressed. Remembering my distance-running days, I know that even a good split time doesn’t mean much unless I finished the race. So it is with the Christian life journey. You can have the crown; I’ll relish the day-by-day satisfaction of loving God, my most precious loved ones, and my neighbor. It is such a good feeling to do for others out of the deep, deep well of God’s grace that saves and empowers me. And you?

 

And in terms of serving a large, ridiculously busy church? Dali was right—the clock always seemed to be melting…Amen.