Sermons

First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Crystal Lake, Illinois September 6, 2015

Psalm 145:1-13a; Mark 7:24-37

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Wow! Did you catch that? Jesus called that woman a dog. Where did that come from? He was probably exhausted from travel and mentally tapped out as well. He had just traveled from Galilee, where he had been arguing with the Pharisees again, to Phoenicia, which is modern-day Lebanon. He had hidden in a house “and did not want anyone to know he was there” (Mark 7:24). Then this local woman found him.

The Syrophoenician woman—we never learn her name—had the cards stacked against her. She was a Gentile, not a Jew, not one of the children of Abraham. She was a woman, and in those days women just didn’t talk to men who were not members of their family. And to top it off, she caught Jesus on a bad day.

Wasn’t she hurting her cause to interrupt him as he rested? She was breaking customs, which made everyone around them uncomfortable. But she was desperate. She was driven by something more powerful than customs and protocol. Her daughter had been possessed by a demon, and she feared for the life of her daughter. What else could she do? She intrudes into the house and begs this Jewish holy man for help.

Jesus responds by telling this desperate woman that his mission is for the Jews and the Jews alone. He compares her to a dog looking for scraps. We squirm around in our seats, but it would not have been so out of character in those days for cultures to clash so rudely. Early Christians would have known that she was a pagan, and the healing of a foreign child by Jesus would be far more shocking than the words which offend us.

She must have been crushed, offended, deeply hurt. But, she can no longer bear the suffering of her child, so she does what she has to do. She responds with courage. She challenges the dismissal. She confronts Jesus, and it is this Gentile woman who teaches him, the Messiah, the true nature of his mission. Jesus is reminded of what he had just been teaching his followers: social conventions, like ritual hand washing before a meal, should not stand in the way of helping those in need. Indeed, she also challenges his derogatory label, calling to mind that it is the things that come out of us, our words and actions, which can cause harm and defile us.

One New Testament scholar remarks, “Could the story of the Syrophoenician woman be a kind of ‘conversion’ moment for Jesus, in which he realizes how (maybe in a very human moment of physical and mental exhaustion) he has lost sight of the point of his mission and has to be reconnected with it by someone assumed to be outside of it? Then for Mark the woman is more than simply rhetorically gifted: she is prophetic.”[1]

The Messiah is supposed to bring salvation to people of Israel, yes, but not only them. In Isaiah we read, “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). Up until this point, Jesus has been focused only on ministry with the Jews. This journey into pagan lands, meant to be an opportunity for retreat and renewal, is the critical moment when Jesus truly grasps the universality of his mission.

This courageous woman confronts Jesus, and it changes him. The love that this mother has for her child touches something deep within him, and he is moved. From this moment on, there will be a new focus, a new mission field. From now on the children of God will be understood to include more than a chosen few. Mark ends his Gospel with these words: “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation” (Mark 16:15). And as we heard from the Psalm: “They shall speak of the glory of your kingdom, and tell of your power, to make known to all people your mighty deeds, and the glorious splendor of your kingdom” (Psalm 145:12).

Alas, I would be lying to you if I said that that the news proclaimed to all the world by Christians is always good. We Christians have not, as a whole, been very accepting or welcoming of people who are different from us. Our churches are much more likely to be segregated by race and culture than they are multi-racial or multi-cultural. Women find it much more difficult to hold a leadership role in the church, let alone be called as pastor. People of a certain sexual orientation or gender identity have heard in no uncertain terms that they are not welcome in most churches.

Somehow, the Syrophoenician woman got through to Jesus, and changed his heart. I have every reason to believe that if the heart of Jesus can be changed, so can mine, and so can yours. There are evil intentions in our hearts, but there are also good intentions. Sometimes it takes someone from outside of our comfort zone to help us realize that we are not expressing the best intentions of our hearts.

I’m going to take a risk here in connecting this story with current events. I am going to talk about Black Lives Matter. And before you tune me out, I want to be clear about what that phrase means to me. When I say, ‘Black lives matter,’ and you think I mean, ‘Black lives matter more than others,’ we’re having a misunderstanding.[2] I don’t think black lives matter more than others. But I definitely don’t think they matter less. Let me give you an illustration.

My sister-in-law has breast cancer. If I put a pink ribbon bumper-sticker on my car, I’m saying that finding a cure for breast cancer matters to me. What I’m not saying is that finding a cure for colon cancer doesn’t matter. I’m not saying that finding a cure for leukemia or heart disease doesn’t matter. They absolutely do. But breast cancer is the issue that hits home for me, so I’d like to bring it to your attention.

What I mean when I say black lives matter is that I have a problem with unarmed black men, women, and children being shot to death by police officers, and those police officers walking away with no consequences. I am not saying all of these people were innocent of any crime. I am not saying all police officers are racist or evil. Far from it. I am saying that there are people who are dead who should not be. I am saying that racism is more than individual prejudice; it is a system of unequal institutionalized racial power that must be challenged. Racism is an issue that hits home for me, so I’d like to bring it to your attention.

Now, I’m also going to mention a presidential candidate. No, not the one you’re thinking of. And I want to be clear that I am not endorsing this candidate or any other, merely using the events as an illustration of how we could all stand to have our eyes and ears opened to a bigger picture.

Did you read or hear about the Bernie Sanders speech in Seattle that was interrupted by activists from Black Lives Matter? Some have asked, why, if Sanders is the most racially progressive candidate in the race, then why is he a target for Black Lives Matter activists? And others have wondered, aren’t they hurting their own cause by confronting the candidate most likely to support them?

In an article on Slate, one writer remarks: “Disrupting Sanders… keeps you in the news and puts indirect pressure on other campaigns that know they’ll have to answer to the movement’s questions.”[3] Those courageous women, no longer able to bear the suffering of their people, did what they had to do and confronted someone with the power to make a difference. They may even have influenced Sanders to more directly address racism in his campaign. Even if you disagree with the movement, their tactics, or even with me, I’m sure that racism has been on your mind or at least on your Facebook news feed.

We are faced with an ever-growing list of serious problems that we need to address as a community, as a nation, and as a planet. In the first century, the poor, the widow, the orphan, the infirm, the mentally ill, the alien, and many women had the cards stacked against them. In the twenty-first century, many of these people still live at the margins of society. We have become a nation more inclined to incarcerate people than rehabilitate them. Many of us still believe that people who are homeless or addicted to drugs must have brought it upon themselves. As the refugees from Syria flood into Europe, where is the voice of Lady Liberty saying “Give me your tired, your poor / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”?[4]

If we are going to get rid of the demons that are eating away at us, we need to be more like the Syrophoenician woman. We need to decide that the people that we love and the issues of justice that lie close to our hearts deserve our courage. We need to decide that we can no longer bear the suffering of God’s children and confront those with the power to make a difference.

The desperate mother and a deaf man who wouldn’t be silenced are children of God just as much as we are. They matter just as much as we do. Jesus demonstrates the love of God that reaches beyond all barriers, beyond race, culture, age, gender identity, gender expression, sexual orientation, ability, or socio-economic status. We too must seek to love beyond all barriers. Amen.

[1] Loye Bradley Ashton, Theological Perspective on Mark 7:24-37 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Volume 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 44-48.

[2] From Justin DaMetz, “Why Black Lives Matter is Crucial, All Lives Matter is Unnecessary, and White Lives Matter is just Racist,” justindametz.wordpress.com, August 28, 2015.

[3] Jamelle Bouie, “Black Lives Matter Protests Matter,” slate.com, August 17, 2015.

First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Crystal Lake, Illinois August 30, 2015

James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

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“Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers” (James 1:22). This message from James may sound like common sense, but it was considered scandalous by Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformer. Luther called the Letter of James “an epistle of straw.”[1] For Luther, the Letter of James did not fit into his doctrine of justification by faith alone. What do I mean by that? Justification by faith is the theological principle that salvation comes to an individual by God’s grace through faith, apart from any works of merit. This is outlined by Paul in the letter to the Romans. In other words, we are “saved” not by anything we do, but only by faith in Jesus Christ. Luther had more appreciation for the “theological” letters of Paul than for this letter of James, which focuses its attention on the daily practice of Christian life.

Of course I think faith is very important. It’s part of my job description. But perhaps James was reacting to something he was experiencing in the early church. One commentary on James explains: “For some, justification by faith meant having faith without a commitment to others, without works. James, then, is trying to correct this idea by introducing works as an important element in justification.”[2] James saw a lack of integrity among those in the community to which he wrote. He criticized those who thought of themselves as if they were isolated individuals with no relationship to the wretchedness around them. He spoke out against those who were quick to speak and to get angry, but did nothing to change the circumstances that oppressed the poor, the orphan, and the widow.

We could offer that same critique to contemporary Christianity. Many of the attributes James criticizes are going on in churches today: hypocrisy, corruption, favoritism, gossip, divisiveness, navel-gazing, and a focus on saving ourselves for heaven rather than helping our neighbors escape their living hell.

It is not only our failure to act, but also the words that we choose that can undermine the labor of love, justice, and peace. James tells us to “be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). We all know that words spoken in the heat of anger are the ones we most often regret. Words that are motivated by fear, pain, and frustration are often the most destructive, and are a quick way to cause a break in our relationships. James counsels us to slow down, to think before we speak, before we cause harm with our mouths.

Jesus has a similar warning in the passage from Mark. It is the things that come out of us, our words and actions, which can cause harm and defile us. Racial slurs and stereotypes, labels that dehumanize and shame, oversimplification, and outright deceit are poison that destroys community and relationships, and eats away at us from the inside. We cannot be who we are called to be when we allow the evil within our hearts to spill out of our mouths. We cannot reflect the word of God unless we bridle our tongues, and speak instead from the love and kindness that are also implanted in our hearts.

James must have sat through his fair share of contentious gatherings, and maybe even a few political campaigns. He understood that unless anger is transformed, unless it is tempered with patience, anger alone cannot make things right. “Be quick to listen” (James 1:19), he says, because it is in listening and in being listened to that we open ourselves to a welcoming, trusting relationship with one another. It is hard work, especially for those of us who are impatient, quick to judge, or have already made up our minds, to listen, really listen, to the other person. Patient listening can, however, redirect anger toward solving the problem and not just treating the symptoms.

When we look in the mirror, what are we like? Are we “hearers of the word and not doers” (James 1:23)? Honestly, we all fall short of perfection. I know I do. And that is one of the reasons often given for why people are leaving the church: hypocrisy, and the way that we fail to live up to our rhetoric. All are welcome here, but if your toddler makes too much noise, or you haven’t showered recently, or you’re holding hands with someone of the same gender, you will probably receive some “looks” if not an overt indication that maybe you’re not really welcome.

What we need to remember, and to practice with one another, is that we are not perfect. We are not the Kingdom of God. We are not the community of saints. We are a community of people who are trying to become saints. We are the broken people of God trying to find the Kingdom. We are imperfect, “hearers who forget” (James 1:25), wicked, sordid, angry sinners. But we’re trying. And we must be patient with one another as we try. We must listen to one another, learn from one another, and grow in faith with one another.

The Letter of James calls on us to live up to a higher standard. James is trying to elicit integrity from us, that is, consistency in hearing, seeing, believing, speaking, and doing. We’ve all heard the gospel stories, we’ve said the Great Commandment together; does that change how we act? Do we really love God with all of our being? What do we do that shows that? Do we really love our neighbors? What do we do that shows that? How is the way that we live informed by our faith?

I have a friend who is an aggressive driver. She was ordained a few years ago, and now she has a “clergy” sticker in her car window. I remember her telling me how now she has to be careful about how she reacts to the other drivers around her. I have one of those stickers too, and let’s just say I take a lot of deep, calming breaths while driving.

There are evil intentions in our hearts. There is “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly” (Mark 7:21-22). But we were created by “the Father of lights,” from whom we receive “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift” (James 1:17). These intentions are in our hearts too: generosity, kindness, love, faithfulness, hope, respect, peace, and truth. But we must do these things, not just hear them, not forget—when we turn away from the divine mirror—that we have light inside us that is longing to shine forth.

We have work to do. It is the work that was begun long ago by those in the Old Testament who cared for the widow, the orphan, the stranger. It was given a new life by Jesus of Nazareth, who always found the pressing issues of those in need to be more important than any dogma or fine theological point. It is the work of loving our neighbor actively. It is the work of showing evidence of our faith through our actions. It is the work of taking responsibility for our anger, learning to listen well, and becoming builders of the community of Christ.

Our work is to move ourselves and the world around us ever closer to becoming the realm of God. We are the first fruits, the early signs of God’s new creation. We can embrace both the good and evil intentions of our hearts, and take responsibility for our words and our works. We can, with humility, accept our potential for construction and destruction, and seek to develop the best in ourselves, in one another, and in our community. In this way, together, we can transform the world. Amen.

[1] Luther’s Works, vol. 35, Word and Sacrament I (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1960), pp. 395-397.

First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Crystal Lake, Illinois July 5, 2015

Psalm 139:1-10; Mark 6:1-13

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It had been a rough few days. Camping had been not quite a disaster. My family went tent camping down at Starved Rock State Park. It looked from the weather reports as though the rain would pass through Wisconsin and bypass Illinois. And while we were there, it did. It had been raining there quite a bit, however, as evidenced by the Illinois River flowing over the visitor center parking lot. And that meant that it was wet, and hot, and buggy.

I was miserable, and did not want to be there. And I let everyone know it. But we made it through the first night, and managed to get going in the morning. The boys had walking sticks they’d acquired at Vacation Bible School the week before, so they were excited to hit the trail. We marched along, seeing beautiful scenes of the river, the rocks, and the trees. Eventually we made it by trail to the Visitor Center, which was not itself flooded. And there was air conditioning, and food, and cold water.

With directions now in hand, we found the way to get down into the valleys to see the waterfalls. We even got the kids to stand still long enough for some nice pictures. After that we hiked out and went for ice cream. But back at the campsite, Felicia got a call that her sister had been in a car accident. While she was processing that, I noticed that what had seemed to be mosquito bites on the boys were swelling up really big. We quickly ate our dinner and headed for the hospital.

With assurances from the ER doc that they were not dying, just having an allergic reaction, we decided that I had better pack up the campsite so we could head home. I left them at the hospital, and as I packed up, the alerts began to come in about tornados hitting just north of us. Felicia and the boys caught a cab to a motel, and I finished packing up. I made it to the motel just before the heavy rain started.

Nice story, Dave, but what’s your point? Well, the title of this sermon is “Unexpected Places.” Where do we find God? In the church sanctuary during worship, I hope. Maybe we find God at the lake shore, on the mountain top, or at some camp or retreat center. The writer of Psalm 139 speaks of God being found in heaven, in Sheol, even at the farthest limits of the sea. “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?” God can be found everywhere, of course. But I think we have to be looking in order to find God, especially in unexpected places.

I certainly wasn’t looking for God in the heat and humidity at Starved Rock. But I appreciated the Visitor Center with its air conditioning that much more. I was delighted by the beauty of the waterfalls. But over the next few days, as I shared the photo of my family taken there with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time, I gained a much greater enjoyment. Mosquito bites, nope, not looking for God there. But the ER trip gave us time to reconsider the value of staying another night in the tent. The next morning was much more pleasant than it might have been.

When Jesus came to his hometown, the people of Nazareth were looking for God. It was the sabbath, and they were gathered in the synagogue. But when God appeared in the unexpected place, in this carpenter, the son of Mary, they weren’t looking there. “He could do no deed of power there,” Mark says, perhaps because of their unbelief. Maybe they were so used to seeking God in the familiar places that to find God in the unexpected was just too much to wrap their heads around.

This event is followed by the first major act of delegation by Jesus. He sends them out, the twelve, into the villages. He warns them that some people are not looking for God in the unexpected arrival of these fishermen-become-disciples, and might treat them like we do when certain people come knocking unexpectedly on our doors. Jesus sent them anyway, because he knew that in unexpected ways they would find welcome, and be empowered to share their message and bring healing.

This past weekend I travelled to Cleveland to the United Church of Christ General Synod, the national meeting of the church. Due to the generosity of many people in this church, and in the wider church, I was able to attend as a delegate from the Illinois Conference. Next Sunday I will talk in more depth about that event at the First Forum here in the Library at 8:30 a.m. I had many wonderful experiences, saw many friends from around the country, and encountered God, even there, in some unexpected ways.

I had gotten up at 4:30 a.m. to catch my plane. I was able to sleep a bit on the flight, fortunately. I walked through the terminal waiting for my phone to turn on, looking for coffee, when I received a Facebook post. “Supreme Court rules in favor of Marriage Equality.” I was thrilled, of course, but that was not the unexpected part. The post came from a friend of mine, a lesbian pastor in Michigan whose wife (yes, they were already legally married) is a lawyer working for Equality Michigan. Her update came two full minutes before the New York Times update appeared on my phone.

At dinner one evening with friends, two women and two other men, we had been talking about issues of privilege and equality, about who has power handed to them and who has to fight for it. I was running late for the next business meeting and I wasn’t going to be able to finish my steak. So I turned to the guys and said, “Do you want the rest of my steak?” My friend Nicole asked, “What about me?” As I turned red and covered my face with my hand, we all burst into laughter. Thank for friends who are able to point out my faults in love.

We live in a time when we all recognize the church is in decline. Membership and attendance numbers are going down , in small town congregations, churches like ours, and even in the fundamentalist mega-churches. And yet we celebrated 67 new UCC churches that have been started since the last UCC General Synod in 2013. That is 20 more than 2 years ago, and more than at any time since 1957.

I attended a workshop hosted by the Back Bay Mission in Biloxi, Mississippi. Do you remember Hurricane Katrina? We heard a lot about New Orleans, but do you remember hearing anything about Biloxi, MS? It was like a nuclear bomb went off there. There are neighborhoods where there is still nothing left. Members of the Back Bay Mission struggled to respond even as their own homes and headquarters were washed away. It took time, but they were able to begin recovery efforts. With help from the UCC Disaster Ministries, Back Bay Mission is still a vital resource for the Gulf coast region. The speaker at my workshop said “UCC Disaster Ministries sticks around. They are not the first ones there, but they are the last to leave.” Everyone loves New Orleans, but down the coast in hard-hit Biloxi, God is still showing up.

This was a UCC meeting, so justice was sure to be on the agenda. A resolution was passed calling on the whole church for a just and compassionate response in the wake of the murder of nine members of the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina. It reads, “We reach out in Christian love to communicate… our deep sympathy for their loss and the shattering of safe space in their house of worship, and to assure other houses of faith in Charleston that we stand in witness to their faith and courage.” God was there at bible study in Emanuel AME, even if the shooter didn’t expect God to be there.

We find God where we look for God, and though it may not occur to us in the moment, God is often found most strikingly in the unexpected places. This was news to most people in ancient times, just as it is news to us today. That is why we still find the cross to be a strange symbol for our faith. It was, after all, a symbol of Roman Imperial power. It was the tool of torture and death for those who dared rebel against Rome. Who could have expected to see God in such a horrible device?

It was, and still is, quite unexpected to find God in the frailty of human life. In the person of Jesus we unexpectedly find that God can not only identify with our weakness, but has been tested in every way, just as we have. The good news is that God is to be found in the unexpected places. When the people are conquered over and over again, and even sent into exile, they are not abandoned. When the Christ is nailed to the cross, God is still there.