Crossing the line

Psalm 111; Luke 17: 11-19
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
October 10, 2010


Two weeks ago, when rain was pounding the eastern seaboard and storm drains were flooding, an elderly woman and her great-grandson were driving down Rhode Island Avenue in Washington, D.C. The water was so high and rising so fast that it suddenly stopped the car and surged into where Bernice and Davonte were sitting. The boy opened his door and got of the car amidst the cold, raging water. But his great-grandmother was stuck in the car. As he tried to reach her, the water kept pushing him back. Because of the increasing water pressure, Bernice couldn’t open her door. When the water level reached the steering wheel, she thought she was a goner.

One of the passersby at the scene, a Hispanic man by appearance, stripped off his clothes and swam over to the car through the trash-ridden, fast-moving, unseasonably-cold water. He opened the car door, pulled Bernice out and helped her to safety. He didn’t hesitate or keep his safe distance. He didn’t take a picture or make a video. He didn’t even call 911. Instead he risked his life to save a complete stranger from drowning.

He also didn’t stick around to be thanked or to even introduce himself. Speculation is that he may have been an undocumented immigrant who didn’t wish to be questioned by the police when they arrived at the scene. Even though many undocumented immigrants may seem invisible to us, this man crossed that invisible line between citizen and foreigner and blurred that line so much that we couldn’t tell one from the other.

Boundaries and rules are important and should be respected. They keep us safe and healthy and whole. Usually when we break those limits, some sort of trouble or disease or injury ensues. We see the sense of them and we learn to keep them.

But we all know there are other restrictions intended to control or exclude or inflict harm on others. Many of us have known what that is like. Most, if not all, of you would cross such a line to set free, include and offer healing to one such as this anonymous rescuer.

So, isn’t it strange that in the gospel lesson from Luke, Jesus does not bridge the prescribed distance between himself and this small community of lepers? Jesus was known to be not only a rule-bender but a rule-breaker when it came to healing, forgiveness and the kingdom of God. These lepers are obeying the Levitical laws of purity by keeping their distance, but that’s never stopped Jesus before. In fact, it is in the obedience to those laws that these men are healed, as they are going to show themselves to the priests. And it is the lepers who bridge the gap by initiating conversation between themselves and Jesus.










Jesus is walking the line between Galilee and Samaria, between homeland and ghetto-land, doing his high-wire act on his way to Jerusalem. On his way Jesus encounters all sorts of people: a man with many demons, a girl on the edge of death, a woman with a hemorrhage, these ten lepers. Through these people Luke shows us what kind of person shows faith, what kind of person responds to Jesus and his message of forgiveness. It was not the leaders, the in-crowd, the longtime believers who were showing faith, but outsiders who were responding to Jesus’ message with shouts of praise and gratitude.

But only one healed man returns to give thanks and praise, and he is a double outcast: he is also a Samaritan, a foreigner. He is outside the covenant and thus, not even bound to go show himself to the priests. Yet he obeys anyway, and when he sees he has been healed, turns back, falls at Jesus’ feet and thanks him profusely.

Yes, the other nine did as they were told and were also healed, but it was the faith of the Samaritan that saved him. In other translations the word ‘whole’ is used in place of ‘well’: “Your faith has made you whole”, implying more than physical healing. Here we have the difference between being healed and being saved, between obedient faith and faith that has the power to save us and transform us.

Jesus wants to know what kind of faith we have. Are we obedient to God and the limits God has placed on us, such as the Ten Commandments? There is certainly nothing wrong with that kind of faith, but for Jesus, obedient faith is a place to start. Jesus wants to know if we’re willing to cross the line from homeland into ghetto-land, to join him in his high-wire act on the way to Jerusalem. And we all know what’s waiting in Jerusalem.

Keeping to the rules may heal the open wounds we human beings have made in this world but the rules won’t save us. And as we all know, sometimes we have to go beyond the rules and our self-imposed limits for mercy and compassion to have their way.





















The difference is joyful, jubilant gratitude. The Samaritan crossed the line of obedience to the law into the fearless expression of gratitude. Jesus offered him not only healing but the opportunity to be saved by grace. To one who was unclean and outside the covenant, this was good news indeed! It would be like not only winning the lottery but also being given the chance to change someone else’s life for the better.

When I had that dream that saved my life some thirty years ago (!), I felt like I had to give something back, that I had to ‘pay it forward’ to someone else who needed God’s transforming grace. I came across two verses in the gospel of Matthew that became a scripture reading at my ordination: “…those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?”

And so by entering the ministry I thought I was giving my life in return for the new life that had been given to me. But the giving in gratitude for my life didn’t end there. When I was in seminary, I racked up some debts. I had tuition, books, room and board, a car payment, and a credit card: American Express: no carrying the balance forward. I had gotten in over my head. Any income I had went out to pay bills. I can remember being on my knees crying and fervently praying to God because I was so scared of being in debt. I called a friend in my home church and shared my troubles.

Not long after that I received a money order for $1200 from an anonymous donor from my church, mailed to me by the church secretary. To this day, I have no idea who saved me. But in gratitude for that saving grace, I have been a pledging giver ever since.

I pledge to this church as a measure of my joy and thankfulness for what God is doing through you and through our time together. Each month I make out a check for $400—about 8% of my total salary. I know I’m crossing a line by telling you that, but if I am asking you to move beyond the comfort of home into a place none of us have been before, then I should be the first to cross that line.






















I also plan to increase my pledge to $450 a month in 2011, for as long as I am here. You are searching for a settled pastor and you want to be able to pay that person well enough that they will be a good giver and pledge to this church. I want to be a part of that, to be a part of not only the healing but the saving grace and jubilant thanks that often comes with a new pastor.

Even though the stewardship season has not quite begun, I want you to start thinking about it and praying about it. I invite you to increase your pledge this year, even if it’s only by a dollar a week. If you give but don’t pledge, I encourage you to pledge whatever you can. In order to welcome the future with joy and deep gratitude, I ask you to make that transition, to go beyond where you are now, and cross that line of fear to get to a place of magic, that place where Jesus waits for us with not only healing but with soul-saving, life-transforming grace. That place is this church, Woodmont United Church of Christ, daring to reveal God’s unconditional love by welcoming and accepting all people, through joyful and creative worship, faithful service and spiritual growth. Amen.

U.S. religious knowledge survey

An ironic surprise...agnostics, atheists, Jews and Mormons scored best on this Pew Research survey. Which means we who call ourselves Christian weren't paying attention in Sunday School. Or we forgot about that World Religions class and U.S. History and Civics. Or we're not getting our news from a balanced perspective. Or didn't receive a quality education. No wonder bigotry and ignorance still have their place in this country.

Take the quiz yourself and post your results in the comments.

Say anything

Psalm 137; Psalm 37: 1-9
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
October 3, 2010 – World Communion Sunday


George Carlin was rocketed to comic fame with his routine “The Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say on Television”. Jesus had his seven last words from the cross: “I thirst”, “Behold your mother, behold your son”, “Today you shall join me in paradise” and so forth. The church has its own seven last words: “We’ve never done it that way before.”

And even though the United Church of Christ and one of its forebears, the Congregational church, are known for their freedom of the pulpit, that is, the freedom of the preacher to say what needs to be said to God’s people, there are still some subjects that God’s people don’t want to hear about from the pulpit. Many of them are also avoided in polite conversation. There may not be seven of them but you know what they are: money, sex, politics, and religion. Yes, even religion is a touchy topic many folks don’t want to hear about from the pulpit, especially if it is about our own religion and how it requires, demands, even commands something of us.

Today’s scripture adds to that list of unacceptable subjects: angry, hot revenge. You may have heard the saying “Revenge is a dish best served cold” but we all know that the desire to even the score runs hot in our blood. And we hear not only the hot-bloodedness of the writer of Psalm 137, we also hear the pain and anguish, the injustice that can cause our blood to boil.

“By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’
How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?
“…O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us!
Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!”

We ask: how can language like that be in the Bible? How can a psalm like that be not only allowed but used in a book of worship?

Once again, the lectionary has taken us to the time of the Babylonian exile, that catastrophic event in the life of the Israelites. Jerusalem and its temple have been destroyed, homes have been turned to rubble, survivors, after having seen their loved ones killed, have been carted off to Babylon as spoils of war. Their trust in God was shaken to its very core. These Israelite captives wanted not only revenge but justice for their captors—a life for a life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe, as it is stated in the 21st chapter of Exodus. We can only imagine that whoever wrote Psalm 137 witnessed the death of their own child at the violent hand of their enemy.

In the book of Psalms, in their holy book of worship, the Israelites knew they could say anything to God, that there was nothing to keep from the creator of the heavens and the earth, the one who has searched us and known us since before we were born. But there is also a balance: a heaping measure of God’s comfort and reassurance:

“Do not fret because of the wicked; do not be envious of wrongdoers,
for they will soon fade like the grass, and wither like the green herb.
Trust in the LORD, and do good; so you will live in the land, and enjoy security.
Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act.
He will make your vindication shine like the light, and the justice of your cause like the noonday.
Be still before the LORD, and wait patiently for him; do not fret over those who prosper in their way, over those who carry out evil devices.
Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret—it leads only to evil.
For the wicked shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.”

How many of us have wanted revenge on another? If you think you’re above or immune to such feelings, what about road rage? Or wishing someone ‘a taste of their own medicine’? Or withholding forgiveness, holding a grudge? We’ve all felt those feelings and our God is big enough to hear them, so why isn’t our church big enough to allow their expression here, in a place intended for honest confession, healing and reconciliation?

On the evening of Sept. 11, 2001 many churches and other places of worship were open for people to come and pray, to worship together, hold hands, light candles, to have faith in the dawn of another day. That spirit of reflection and unity lasted for quite a while. But then it seemed the songs we sang in our pain and grief were seized upon and used as a prelude to war. Though vastly different in scope, the parallels between the exile and that dark day are almost too close. A great center of commerce, twin skyscrapers that testified to American ingenuity and prowess, was made into rubble. Thousands died, including those who tried to save others. We too were shaken to our very core. Two years later war was declared and our sons and daughters have been giving their lives to it, have been made captives of it ever since.

Perhaps if we had expressed more of our grief, our sadness, our rage and our anguish within these walls, to the point of recognizing that vengeance is not ours, perhaps we might have realized the futility of war. Even if a preemptive war is intended to prevent terrorism, is not war a form of terrorism in and of itself? Can we also imagine that there are those who would pray this psalm against us? In the words of Confucius, before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

The apostle Paul urges Christian citizens of the empire in Rome, and we who are Christian citizens of our own empire, to remember to never avenge themselves, “for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord. No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” When was the last time we witnessed mercy and forgiveness in the public forum? Reconciliation begins here. In order for that to happen, we first need to express those raw emotions that make us cry out for justice.

World Communion Sunday reminds us that we exist in relationships, that what we do here in this place affects not only ourselves but others as well, rippling through this human web we live in. Let us trust that the God who demands justice will also carry it out. Jesus himself, who from an instrument of torture and death, groaned, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” but who also prayed “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” We can say anything to God in prayer—God who tenderly holds us and understands, who forgives and heals us.

Amen.

Albert Pierrepoint, Britain's last official hangman, said that hanging is more about revenge than about justice: "I have come to the conclusion that executions solve nothing, and are only an antiquated relic of a primitive desire for revenge which takes the easy way and hands over the responsibility for revenge to other people...The trouble with the death penalty has always been that nobody wanted it for everybody, but everybody differed about who should get off."

The dead tell no tales

Can you spot the gay soldier?

You're fired!

The Shrewd Manager

Jeremiah 8: 18 – 9: 1; Luke 16: 1-13
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
September 19, 2010


You’re fired: the dreaded words everyone fears in today’s economy (or on the ever-popular reality show, “The Apprentice”). These words have the power to send anyone’s life into a tailspin. Back in the 1980’s or ‘90’s people might have joked with their answer to “What are you going to do now?” by responding, “You know, do some gardening, learn Chinese, play some golf, fix up the summer house.” But nowadays no one is laughing. And more often than not, the answer to the question is a dead serious “I don’t know”.

Many of you know what it is like to be laid off, been fired from your job, had to take fewer hours for the same pay, had to quit because persons were making it difficult for you to continue working, or had to leave work to stay home with your children or to take care of an ailing parent or spouse. Maybe you’ve had to leave work for two or more of those reasons. Maybe you’ve been the one who’s had to do the laying off or to fire someone.

Work provides security in so many ways. First, there’s the income. Some jobs pay more than others, but any job pays better than none. And usually, there’s more than just ourselves depending on that income. What we earn today pays not only for what we need but for any past debt and for the future as well. Second, there’s the feeling of pride, of having a place to go, a person to be. For good or ill, our work becomes part of who we are, how we see ourselves. Who would we be without our work? And then there are the benefits that are on a scale much like our salary. Work has become a safety net with some very wide holes that continue to shift under our feet. We worry that one day we’ll slip right through one of them.

This morning’s gospel lesson sounds like a story from the business pages of the newspaper. Someone from management has been taking from the till and making off with it. The owner of the company has heard from others about his manager and plans to fire him. The manager, thinking only of himself and his future, uses the shrewd mind that got him into this mess and ingratiates himself with his boss’s debtors by discounting what they owe the boss. It all makes sense until we get to the end. The boss commends the manager because of his shrewdness. And then Jesus tells the disciples to “make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.”






In these days of BP, GM, AIG, Lehman Brothers, Goldman-Sachs and many others we don’t want to hear about how the government is helping them dig their way out of a very big hole. They dug their hole; let them stay there for a while. But just because some folks did something wrong, we can’t write them off as bad people. We’re all a mixed bag of good and bad, of varying degrees. All of us have fallen short of the glory of God; otherwise our world wouldn’t be in the mess it’s in.

When we get upset about this dishonest manager being commended for his shrewdness our sense of entitlement kicks in. “I’ve worked hard, been honest, and I don’t get commended.” We sound like the older brother in the parable about the prodigal son, just before this one. God’s grace sounds like cheating, as though some are getting off easy for their sin. The truth is we have all benefited from God’s generosity. The truth is we all have benefited from the ill-gotten gains of others. We all live mostly comfortable lives with enough to eat, a roof over our heads, some money in the bank, and all kinds of material goods in abundance wherever we shop, never mind where they are made, by whom, and at what price to the environment. What Jesus is asking us is: What are you going to do with this grace, with your ill-gotten gains? Keep them or use them toward the eternal home, that is, the kingdom of God?

Jesus came to point a finger, not to blame, but to get us moving. The words “You’re fired” are strangely more compelling to us than “Follow me”, but both carry with them a sense of urgency. Both send us the bold message that it’s time to let go of the way things are and find another way, using the shrewd mind that got us into whatever mess we have found ourselves in.

There once was a man, a very rich man, a millionaire in fact, who came home one day to find out that his wife was ready to leave him. In response to his wife’s wake-up call, he packed up his family in the car and they headed toward Florida. On the way they met up with some friends in Georgia who then introduced the man to Clarence Jordan of Koinonia Farms. After having lunch with Clarence, the man and his family stayed on the farm for a month. He then sold all that he had, gave it to the poor, and started an organization called Habitat for Humanity. The man was Millard Fuller.

An addict has ruined her marriage, her health, her career, her friendships, and her bank account. But when she walks into a twelve-step program she can start over again, repair the breach she has made between herself and others and God, and make another life out of the dust of her old one.

Pope Benedict XVI has become known for his expensive attire: red Italian leather Prada shoes, Serengeti sunglasses and ermine trimmed capes and hats. Anne Burke, the leader of the review board set up by the U.S. Catholic bishops to oversee their policies on priests accused of pedophilia, has written to the pope suggesting he wear a simple black cassock for the remainder of his papacy to demonstrate penance for the priest sex scandal.






How we spend our money and our lives makes a direct impact on the kingdom of God. I heard it once said that there aren’t any bad people, only bad, sometimes catastrophic decisions. Jesus is telling us that it’s never too late to change our decision, to decide for the kingdom of God rather than for material wealth and our own security.

Are we going to sell all we have and give it to the poor? Probably not. Are we going to give away our possessions and live an aesthetic life? Maybe, maybe not. But maybe our rich God understands. Maybe our God is merciful as well as just even when we give a lame attempt at serving. Maybe God is waiting for us to use our imagination even just a little when it comes to the kingdom of God, that future that’s planned for all of us.

Perhaps we’re not another Millard Fuller or Mother Theresa. But we could begin to do things differently. While we’re buying ourselves new clothes we could be buying new clothes for the thrift shop. Why should the poor get only our hand-me-downs? Instead of trading in the old car we could give it away to a charitable organization. Instead of going out to dinner, we could write a check for the same amount to the food bank. What would happen if we all raised our pledge by just a dollar week? We have about 60 pledging units in this church. You do the math.





Is God disappointed at our half-hearted attempts at discipleship? Maybe. But maybe God looks at our serving the way a teacher looks at a student’s work: some mistakes but that’s 70% of learning. God looks for progress and for learning from our past ways.

God is also shrewd with us. God is no fool. God is willing to accept even our feeble efforts as a sign of our faithfulness rather than nothing at all. God is looking for a goodwill effort; are we with God or not? We are not working our way into the kingdom but then are we willing to go with God’s flow toward that kingdom or are we working against it?

So whatever you’re doing now for God’s kingdom…you’re fired!

Now what are you going to do?

You are here

1 Timothy 1: 1-19; Luke 15: 1-10
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
September 12, 2010

I was never interested in watching the TV series “Lost”. The premise seemed at the least hopeless. A plane flying from Los Angeles to Sydney crashes on a mysterious, remote Pacific island. The survivors learn that they can’t leave the island and that they all are connected in some way. Through a myriad of plot twists and two separate yet also intertwining timelines, the show took its viewers on a wild ride, getting everyone hopelessly lost in the story and its characters. But this week I did watch the final two episodes of the TV series “Lost”, to see how such a hopeless premise could be resolved. And of course, being lost and then found is the scripture theme.

Of the reviews I read, the consensus was a strange mix of euphoria and disappointment. Some comments left by viewers were rather philosophical while many were full of feelings of being taken down a long road, only to be abandoned with no real answers as to why things happened the way they did. Nobody likes to be fooled or waste their time; nobody likes to be lost.

When you think about it, we’re all looking for some real answers, some meaning and purpose to our lives. Why do things happen the way they do? How much do we contribute to our situation and how much of it is out of our control? What is real and what is just an illusion? Are we fools for believing or not? How far off course are we?




Barbara Brown Taylor in her book An Altar in the World calls getting lost a spiritual exercise. She writes, “If you do not start choosing to get lost in some fairly low-risk ways, then how will you ever manage when one of life’s big winds knocks you clean off your course? …[The] skills are the same: managing your panic, marshalling your resources, taking a good look around to see where you are and what this unexpected development might have to offer you.” [1]

Many of us have heard or read other people’s stories of how getting knocked clean off their course gave them an opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others, and there are countless other everyday heroes that don’t make it into a book or the newspapers. Many of us not in a twelve step program don’t share with each other our stories of being lost because then we’d have to admit we lost our way, that we stumbled off the path or got blown off it, that for a while there we thought we were alone and didn’t know where we were.

The scariest thing about being lost is feeling like you’re not sure you’re going to get found, if you’re ever going to get off the island. The Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “Why, when God’s world is so big, did you fall asleep in a prison of all places?” When we first wake up to what is really real, we don’t know where we are. We don’t recognize the way home. But eventually, if we can endure and keep ourselves vulnerable to the moment, rescue does come to us.



My first experience of being lost, and I mean spiritually, emotionally, heart-breakingly lost, was when I was twelve. My father had moved out of the house and my parents were going to get a divorce, the shame of which was very keen in 1977. The year before, we had moved to another town. We had also started worshipping at another church not long before that. That meant new school, new people—I couldn’t imagine being more lost. At one particularly low point, I even contemplated suicide. Even though I had believed in God since I was a young child, I felt as though God had abandoned me and left me on some remote island to fend for myself.

For the next three years, through my freshman year in high school, my father moving to North Carolina and getting remarried, to my mother’s boyfriend moving in, I cried and cursed at and pleaded with God. In youth group I began to make new friends and deepen older friendships, including this guy called Jesus, but I still could not imagine that these people, this Jesus, loved me as I was: miserable, shy and a face full of pimples.

In the fall of my sophomore year I had a dream that changed the course of my life. In the dream I am an observer, watching the drama unfold before me. I see a group of men and women seating about a crude wooden table. Outside the makeshift shack I can hear bombs and shelling, automatic weapon fire, and people screaming. I am aware that there is a civil war being fought and that this group of people is an underground movement comprised of both sides to end the war and achieve peace.

As they are discussing and making plans, there is a loud knock at the door. The leader goes to the door, opens it and I see Jesus standing on the threshold. The leader does not recognize him but instead asks how he may help this stranger. Jesus replies that he has come to help them. The leader welcomes Jesus inside, the group makes room for him around the table, and their discussion continues.

Suddenly a woman’s scream is heard right outside the shack. Everyone rushes outside to find one their group has been fatally stabbed. Jesus picks her up and carries her inside. Jesus lays his hands upon her wound and heals her. Then the wound appears on his body and then he too is healed. The people in the group are amazed at this and ask, “Who are you? What’s the meaning of all this?”

The next morning I woke up and I remembered the dream all at once. I had no idea what it meant, so I called my pastor and asked to talk with him. He was aware of what was happening in my family and he knew how unhappy I was. After listening to me tell him about the dream, he said that there was a civil war going on inside of me, between my anger at God and my love of God. I wanted God to help me but I didn’t recognize him. God would send Jesus to heal me but I had to see what God was already doing in my life.

After that, nothing about my life changed. My parents were still divorced; my father still lived in North Carolina. My mother’s boyfriend was still living with us. I still had a face full of pimples. I still felt like a social outcast. What changed was my heart. What happened was that I turned around and started moving toward God. That’s what it means to repent: to have a change of heart, to turn around and face God.

It meant I had to stop blaming God for the way that my life was. I had to learn to accept my life and to put my focus on God and on the love that was coming into my life. And when one does this, indeed God does rejoice.

From that dream I also heard a call to the ministry, and I thought I could see how my life would go from there. Yet every direction I thought my life would take, my life has taken me somewhere else. I didn’t know how long I’d have my father, but I thought it would be longer than 19 years. I thought I would live on the eastern seaboard but I ended up in Ohio. I thought I would work part-time after having my first child but of the almost 19 years I’ve been ordained, I’ve worked about 8 years. When we moved to Monroe I thought it would be temporary; we’ve lived there almost 12 years now. When I became a pastor, I thought I had walked away from my childhood dream of being an artist, yet sometimes I try to use various art forms as a means of getting people to think about their relationship with God.

The apostle Paul certainly didn’t end up where he thought he would. He thought he was on the side of justice and righteousness when he was rousting out Jewish Christians and having them thrown in prison, but then wound up being God’s number one case history for those needing rescue. I don’t think I’m overstating it when I say that if it weren’t if Paul, there may not have been a church, yet he started out ensuring there never would be a church.


AIGA National Design Center, Design Journeys: You Are Here

Do any of us end up where we thought we would be? And does that mean we’re lost? Or could it be that we just can’t see where we are? I truly believe that wherever we are, God is; that there is no place we can go where God isn’t. Every time we try to shake God off our trail or think we’ve lost our way, God shows up in any number of surprising, subtle or life-jolting ways to bring us home.

God comes to us in Jesus to say “You are here. And so am I.” It was that truth that saved me when I was fifteen. It is that truth that continues to save me every day. None of us does this alone. Though there are days the premise of our lives may seem hopeless, though we may feel like we’re on a remote island, there are other survivors with us and all of us are connected in some way. What saves us is not getting off the island but realizing that we’re not alone.

It’s no coincidence that the TV series “Lost” ended in a church, a place of community and faith, all of the characters reunited, greeting each other in joy, forgiveness and healing. Whatever has happened to us, whatever we have lived through, wherever we have ended up, it has all brought us to this place and to this time and to this church. We are here and so is God: that mystery that found us, loved us, forgave us, and has been leading us home ever since.

Woodmont UCC Heritage Sunday, 2010

Even those who may feel lost to us, God is there as much as God is here, and God is leading them home too. We read in 1 Timothy that the whole purpose of what we’re about is to simply love and to live a life open to God. And we have also been given a commission to seek out those who feel lost and alone and help them see where they are, free them from their prison, introduce them to an old friend named Jesus, tell them our stories, and listen to theirs. Simply love. Leave your lives open to God. You are here, and so is God.

Amen.



1. Barbara Brown Taylor. An Altar in the World. New York: HarperCollins, 2009, p. 72.

Choosing God

Two Roads Diverged by Wilma J. Lopez


Deut. 30: 15-20; Jeremiah 18: 1-11
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
Sept. 5, 2010


My oldest daughter has a standard phrase whenever she teases me and pushes my buttons: “I couldn’t resist, Mom!” Then I give her ‘the look’, she laughs at me, and so it goes.

One day I realized that she was making a choice, that we both were, and that we didn’t have to do the same old thing every time. She said, “Oh, I couldn’t resist, Mom!” I replied, “Oh yes you could. There were two paths in front of you. One was rather ordinary and plain, the other bright and shiny as a penny and you chose the bright and shiny one, you did!”

Every day such choices and possibilities exist before us. Some feel like old habits and ruts, others like a warm, comfortable piece of clothing, some like that bright, shiny penny, others seem empty of any kind of thrill or joy. If you think about it, our whole reality is created, moment by moment, by our choices. What we think, what we feel, what we do. What our attitude will be, what kind of mood we’re in, whether or not we’ll be annoyed or just amused by someone’s actions. And from these choices come a myriad of possibilities.

We’re convinced that we’ve been conditioned in some way to respond, to choose the way we always have. We were raised a certain way, with certain values, a mix of good and bad experiences. How can we change the past, we say, as a way of avoiding changing the present. Most of the time, we don’t like knowing that we’re co-creators of our reality. It would mean we would have to take some responsibility for shaping the way things are.

John Calvin, a 16th century theologian and Protestant reformer, believed that before the creation, God predestined the fate of the universe; that some of God’s creation was made for grace and salvation and some of it was not. Yet humankind was also given free will and the choice to reject that saving grace.

In the readings from both Deuteronomy and Jeremiah, God’s people are given a choice, between life and death, good and evil, blessings and curses, listening to God’s messenger or ignoring him at their peril. It hardly sounds like free will. Life or death? That sounds like a no brainer! And yet listen to the next verse in the reading from Jeremiah: “But they'll [God’s people] just say, 'Why should we? What's the point? We'll live just the way we've always lived, doom or no doom.”

Fear has never really worked as a coercive to get us to choose the next right thing. It’s also given the God of the Hebrew scriptures a really bad, undeserved rap. Actually, Deuteronomy and Jeremiah were written during and after the Babylonian exile, after the bad choices had been made, after the doom had happened. God’s people, in retrospect, realized that their stubbornness and their unwillingness to be shaped by God led to their destruction. And yet God continues to reach out to God’s people, again and again, offering life, blessing and goodness when we would rather die than surrender.



33 Chilean miners mark a month underground - NPR story


It’s words like surrender, obedience and repentance (change of heart) that make faith leave a bad taste in our mouths. In the words of the poet William Ernest Henley we like to think that we are the masters of our fate, the captains of our soul. We are when it comes to our attitude and our outlook on life; no one can choose that for us unless we give them that power. But resisting God will do us no good. Though we may be able to master our moments, God is the master of all space and time and we do indeed ignore that life-giving wisdom at our peril.

God is the master-potter, an artist working with an ever-changing medium called the creation. God is still discovering how to work with us earthen vessels, still shaping us, still creating us and creating through us. There are still possibilities untold: everlasting peace, the end of hunger, poverty, violence and oppression, a new heaven and a new earth but also destruction, torment, death, extinction. What will we choose? Which path will we take? What do our choices about how we live speak to the God to whom we still need to surrender?

Don Valente, son of Doña Rosa, at the Doña Rosa pottery studio in Oaxaca, Mexico


All it takes is one step: one step toward life, one step toward blessing, one step toward God. In any twelve step program one does not agree to do all twelve steps—just to begin with the first one. And that first step is all about surrender, that God knows better than we do how to end the insanity and how to begin to live. Author and Quaker Parker Palmer wrote that faith is less about taking a big leap and more about taking one more step. It’s all about doing the next right thing, whatever that may be.

What is the next right thing to do, the next step toward God, that you need to take in your life and in your life together? In what ways do you still resist God and God’s desire to be in relationship with you? Though God may not be necessary for a life lived for good, why not live with spiritual companionship that accepts you as you are and yet prods you off yourself? What are some habits, some old ruts that need to be replaced with spiritual practices such as service, study, prayer, and giving?

Our choices shape who we are and whose we are. Will we put ourselves into God’s hands and allow God to mold us and use us or will we resist and grow hard and unmalleable? When we choose God and God’s kingdom of compassion, justice and peace for all, we are shaped into a vessel that can be used toward that kingdom. Every time we choose God, that kingdom becomes more than a possibility. It becomes more and more visible, more and more a reality. And all it takes is just one step, one choice at a time.

Amen.

I thought this truth was self-evident...

...but apparently some explaning was necessary.



Thanks to Suzanne for this video.

Entertaining angels

Andrei Rublev, icon of the holy visitors at the oaks of Mamre, c. 1410


Hebrews 13: 1-8, 15-16; Luke 14: 1, 7-14
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
August 29, 2010

On the Emily Post website, a host giving a party is given six tips for a successful gathering:

1. Invite clearly. Include necessary information for your guests in the invitation. Is the party a casual get-together or more formal? What about the attire? Maybe a guest would benefit by knowing ahead of time who else will be there, which you might mention when they RSVP.

2. Plan well. Preparing your guest list carefully is key to a successful party. Then do as much as you can ahead of time. (Lower the stress level by serving food and refreshments you know will work.) Get everything ready well before your guests arrive, so you'll feel relaxed from the very beginning.

3. Remain calm. Giving a party can be enjoyable, especially if you approach it with simplicity. Get help if necessary, and don't let your guests think you're huffing and puffing. They'll feel far more comfortable if they don't have to wonder whether they're causing you any trouble.

4. Keep your guests feeling welcome. Make sure guests are warmly greeted, then made to feel welcome throughout the party. Look after each guest as much as you can. If you notice that a guest has an empty glass or if there's one person standing alone, remedy the situation as quickly and cheerfully as possible.

5. Be flexible and gracious. Your soufflé falls. Or one friend arrives with an unexpected guest. The ruined dessert? Have a fallback. The uninvited guest? As discourteous as it is for someone to spring a surprise on you, be gracious. No polite host would ever send an uninvited guest packing.

6. Be appreciative. Thank people for coming as you bid them good-bye. And don't forget to thank anyone who brought you a gift.

In the readings from both Hebrews and the gospel of Luke, it sounds as though we are being given a similar list of manners and behaviors but it’s more than being congenial and welcoming. It’s about realizing that we are all guests at God’s table:

1. Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.

2. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured as though you yourselves were being tortured.

3. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.

4. When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host. …Rather, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that [you may be invited to move up higher and be honored in the presence of all].

5. When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.




A week ago Friday my family and I, and two other couples from this church, were guests at a banquet of sorts: a Ramadan fast-breaking meal called an iftar. It was held at the University of Bridgeport and it was the first time that all the Muslim communities of Bridgeport had gathered together. And to this auspicious occasion of solidarity they also opened the invitation to anyone who wanted to join them. In the same room, sharing tables, food and fellowship, were Muslims, Jews and Christians—men, women and children. (WSHU.org news story)

When we first arrived we sat at a table about midway toward the front of the room. But David, my husband and Bruce and Will wanted to mingle with others. Then one of the organizers of the evening encouraged everyone to move to the front, to make room for any latecomers. Therese, Dorothy, and my girls and I remained at our table and were joined by a group of Muslim women and their children. I called it ‘the women’s table’.

Speeches were given by representatives from the different Muslim communities, from the Executive Director of CAIR, the Council for American-Islamic Relations, and from a Jewish synagogue and from the Bridgeport Council of Churches. There was no rancor or criticism against those who protested outside Masjid An-Noor, the Bridgeport Islamic Society on Clinton Avenue. Rather, we heard encouraging words of compassion, wisdom, and faith.

We were told we did not have to pray but we prayed. We took off our shoes, with men lining up in the front and women lining up behind them. We bowed, we kneeled, we put our foreheads on the floor as best as we could. We listened to verses of the Qur’an and prayers sung in lyrical Arabic. We observed moments of silent prayer.



At sunset the fast was broken with plates of sweet dried dates, bringing to mind a line from the Psalms: “O taste and see that the Lord is good.” Bottles of water were passed around, as the Muslims in the room had not had anything to drink or eat since sunrise. Blessings were said and then we waited to be called up to the buffet lines for a dinner of hummus, lamb, roast chicken, chicken kabob, rice and salad. There was even cheese pizza for the children and for my vegetarian daughter.

There we were, all of us children of Abraham, many nations, different skin colors, each with our own holy books yet sharing the same story: that of the holy visitors who came to Mamre to prophesy what was promised by God—a child whose descendents would be as numerous as the stars in the sky, as the grains of sand in the desert. Abraham and Sarah gave them the best meal out of what they had, gave them water to wash their feet and shade in which to rest from the hot sun. They had entertained angels without knowing it, for hospitality was law in the desert. It became part of the Mosaic code of law. Jesus counted it as one of the greatest commandments, that we love our neighbor as ourselves, thus, our Muslim brothers and sisters also share this belief, as Jesus is one of their prophets as well.

I know you are welcoming folk, that your hearts are open, your minds inquisitive, and that your hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness are keen. The challenge presented to us in these scriptures is that those whose rhetoric is filled with fear are the strangers to whom we need to extend our love and our hospitality. As it says in the Holy Qur’an: “And the servants of the Most Merciful are those who walk upon the earth easily, and when the ignorant address them [harshly], they say [words of] peace.” —Surat Al-Furqān 25: 63, The Holy Qur’an, Sahih International version.

Those who say that Islam is a lie: their minds are imprisoned; therefore let us have the courage to think what it must be like to be in a prison of fear and ignorance. They are tortured by this fear and ignorance; therefore let us put ourselves in that place of torture and find within us a source of compassion. Let us give them a place of honor by listening with compassion and an open heart. May we offer words of peace when we are faced with hate and fear, remembering that we are all children of God.

Let us also remain calm and be flexible and gracious. Perhaps this church would like to invite our Jewish brothers and sisters from Congregation Sinai and our Muslim sisters and brothers from West Haven to a meal here at church. You could also open that occasion to any who are interested in learning more about how much we have in common.

If you haven’t already, make a donation to the United Church of Christ for flood relief in Pakistan, home to 16% of the world’s Muslims and the second largest Muslim population after Indonesia. It’s estimated that over 17 million Pakistanis have been affected by the floods, on par with the damage done by Hurricane Katrina in this country but not receiving not nearly as much press or support.




In Gainesville, Florida the Dove World Outreach Center plans to burn as many copies of the Qur’an as possible on Sept. 11. In response to this misinformed plan, Larry Reimer, a UCC pastor in Gainesville, said “If they can burn it, then we can read it.” On Sunday, Sept. 12, along with other Gainesville religious leaders, Rev. Reimer plans to read from the Qur’an in worship. We could join them.

This is a crucial time, when people are uncertain of their future and fear of the other is on the rise, when unrest can be taken advantage of by those who seek power and control. It all depends on how the rest of us respond. Indeed, we need to invite clearly, to plan well, to make our guests, those angels unawares, feel welcome. Most of all we are to be appreciative of this gift, this opportunity given to us, to offer compassion, to be peacemakers, to join together at God’s table of reconciliation. Amen.

Fighting fire with humor

You can usually tell who is on the side of justice by the quality of their protest signs.



Thanks to my seminary friend Rick Barber for this video.

Places I've been

1. Christchurch, New Zealand


2. Oaxaca, Mexico


3. Boston, MA, USA


4. New Orleans, LA, USA


5. Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, Canada


6. Lugano, Switzerland


7. San Diego, CA, USA


8. Dubois, WY, USA

• Create your own travel map or travel blog


• Great vacation rentals at TripAdvisor

When I look at where I've been, and I think I've been quite a few places, I realize how little of the world I've seen. One of my life goal's is to have map pins in every continent, to see as much of this world as possible.

A dangerous faith

Rahab was told to tie a scarlet cord from her window (Joshua 2).

Hebrews 11: 29 – 12: 2; Luke 12: 49-56
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
August 15, 2010


Some years ago Tony Campolo, an American Baptist minister and author, flew to Hawaii to speak at a conference. He checked into his hotel and tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately, his internal clock woke him at 3:00 a.m. The night was dark, the streets were silent, the world was asleep, but Tony was wide awake and his stomach was growling.

He got up and prowled the streets looking for a place to get some bacon and eggs for an early breakfast. Everything was closed except for a grungy dive in an alley. He went in and sat down at the counter. The guy behind the counter came over and asked, "What d'ya want?"

Well, Tony wasn't so hungry anymore, so eying some donuts under a plastic cover he said, "I'll have a donut and black coffee."

As he sat there munching on his donut and sipping his coffee at 3:30, in walk eight or nine provocative, loud prostitutes just finished with their night's work. They plopped down at the counter and Tony found himself uncomfortably surrounded by this group of smoking, swearing hookers. He gulped his coffee, planning to make a quick getaway. Then the woman next to him said to her friend, "You know what? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm gonna be 39." To which her friend nastily replied, "So what d'ya want from me? A birthday party? Huh? You want me to get a cake and sing happy birthday to you?"

The first woman said, "Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean? Why do you have to put me down? I'm just sayin' it's my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean, why should I have a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"

Well, when Tony Campolo heard that, he said he made a decision. He sat and waited until the women left, and then he asked the guy at the counter, "Do they come in here every night?"
"Yeah," he answered.
"The one right next to me," he asked, "she comes in every night?"
"Yeah," he said, "that's Agnes. Yeah, she's here every night. She's been comin' here for years. Why do you want to know?"
"Because she just said that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you think? Do you think we could maybe throw a little birthday party for her right here in the diner?"

A cute kind of smile crept over the man's chubby cheeks. "That's great," he said, "yeah, that's great. I like it." He turned to the kitchen and shouted to his wife, "Hey, come on out here. This guy's got a great idea. Tomorrow is Agnes' birthday and he wants to throw a party for her right here."

His wife came out. "That's terrific," she said. "You know, Agnes is really nice. She's always trying to help other people and nobody does anything nice for her."

So they made their plans. Tony said he'd be back at 2:30 the next morning with some decorations and the man, whose name turned out to be Harry, said he'd make a cake.

At 2:30 the next morning, Tony was back. He had crepe paper and other decorations and a sign made of big pieces of cardboard that said, "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" They decorated the place from one end to the other and got it looking great. Harry had gotten the word out on the streets about the party and by 3:15 it seemed that every prostitute in Honolulu was in the place. There were hookers wall to wall.

At 3:30 on the dot, the door swung open and in walked Agnes and her friend. Tony had everybody ready. They all shouted and screamed "Happy Birthday, Agnes!" Agnes was absolutely flabbergasted. She was stunned, her mouth fell open, her knees started to buckle, and she almost fell over.

And when the birthday cake with all the candles was carried out, that's when she totally lost it. Then she was sobbing and crying. Harry, who wasn’t used to seeing a prostitute cry, gruffly mumbled, "Blow out the candles, Agnes. Cut the cake." So she pulled herself together and blew them out. Everyone cheered and yelled, "Cut the cake, Agnes, cut the cake!" But Agnes looked down at the cake and, without taking her eyes off it, slowly and softly said, "Look, Harry, is it all right with you if...I mean, if I don't...I mean, what I want to ask, is it OK if I keep the cake a little while? Is it all right if we don't eat it right away?"

Harry didn’t know what to say so he shrugged and said, "Sure, if that's what you want to do. Keep the cake. Take it home if you want."

"Oh, could I?" she asked. Looking at Tony she said, "I live just down the street a couple of doors; I want to take the cake home, is that okay? I'll be right back, honest."

She got off her stool, picked up the cake, and carried it high in front of her like it was the Holy Grail. Everybody watched in stunned silence and when the door closed behind her, nobody seemed to know what to do. They looked at each other. They looked at Tony.

So Tony got up on a chair and said, "What do you say that we pray together?"

And there they were in a hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon, half the prostitutes in Honolulu, at 3:30 a.m. listening to Tony Campolo as he prayed for Agnes, for her life, her health, and her life with God. Tony recalled, "I prayed that her life would be changed, and that God would be good to her."

When he was finished, Harry leaned over, and with a trace of hostility in his voice, he said, "Hey, you never told me you was a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to anyway?"

In one of those moments when just the right words came, Tony answered him quietly, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning."

Harry thought for a moment and said, "No you don't. There ain't no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. Yep, I'd join a church like that."




That’s the kind of church Jesus calls us to be, the same one that lists Rahab the prostitute as a hero of the faith right after Moses and before those of Gideon, Samson, David, and Samuel in the reading from the book of Hebrews. Jesus said, “Tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom of God before the righteous will.” Jesus was a dangerous man. He broke the religious laws of his time to show forth God’s radical love, compassion, and forgiveness. He ate with those considered unclean, he healed on the Sabbath, he spoke with women and included them in his inner circle. He said the last would be first and the first, last. Grace would be given to all, the just and the unjust. If we were rich we were to sell all we had and give it to the poor. We were to love our enemies and pray for them. We were to deny ourselves and take up our own cross.

A friend once said in a sermon, “It isn’t the unbelievable, fantastic stories in the Bible that make me feel uncomfortable. What really makes me squirm is precisely that which I do understand, what I can fathom, what I am certain is true. The stories and the words of Jesus cut like a knife in order to purify and heal, to bother us into eternity. God is the great Botherer, to save us from drowning in the Red Sea, from burning to a crisp in warfare with our brothers and sisters or with our own selves. If we must be bothered, and we must, let us be bothered for the right reasons.”

Jesus made folks angry and aroused their passion. He not only comforted the afflicted but afflicted the comfortable. We think of the peaceful shepherd carrying his sheep, but he also carried a sword of division that would break the most precious peace, that of family. If it is one thing we try to preserve with all our might, it is the peace of our families: those at home and those at church.

In polite company we stay away from the four taboo subjects: religion, sex, politics, and money. Even in church we manage to do this. We have told ourselves that unity in the church means no fighting or disagreements. I am not advocating a knock-down, dragged-out fight, but we all know that in marriages and families, keeping our disagreements and our opinions to ourselves in the name of peace and unity only leads to misery.

In the church it can lead to quiet, comfortable, so-so faith that neither attracts newcomers nor energizes steady members. Our faith is meant to be fuel for the engine that drives the kingdom of God. Discomfort, passion, and being bothered by Jesus can fire up a sense of mission and purpose in the church.

In the first version of the movie “The Karate Kid”, Mr. Moriyagi told Daniel, “Walk on one side of the road, fine; walk on other side of road, fine. Walk in the middle of the road—squish! Like grape. Same thing with karate: you do karate, yes, or do karate, no. You do karate, so-so—squish! Just like grape.”

It is the same with believing and following Jesus, wherever we are in our journey. Whoever we are, whether we are an agnostic, a seeker, or a whole-hearted believer, we are to do it with decision, passion, and drive, even if it might lose us a few friends and more money than we think we can afford to give, even if our families wonder about us, even if it might cost us our comfort zone. We will make mistakes. We will feel pain. And we will be alive, fully so.

In today’s world, what would Jesus be doing to stir people up?


For all those folks who want to be able to carry a gun to church.

He’d be cleaning up the beaches on the Gulf coast AND working with BP, forgiving them, praying for them, helping them make restitution, prodding them on to make justice-filled policies. He’d be weeping and raging over the American empire we’ve become, driving us out of our malls and superstores and away from our computer screens and into the cities where violence and poverty enslave our fellow Americans. He’d tear down the borders, walls and fences between us and Canada and Mexico, our neighbors. He’d be picking up trash on the highway, on the beach, and in the park. He’d move in next door to a recently released sex offender and invite him over for a meal. He’d invite a homeless person to live in his house, give her the best room, and let her stay until she was on her feet again. He’d protest the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan AND he would stand with every last U.S. soldier, every last Iraqi and Afghani civilian AND share a meal with a group of insurgents. He’d buy a big house in a great neighborhood with good schools and open it up to homeless kids and teens. He’d be CEO of his own company with all the stock options, big benefits, and salary but only so he could give them away to his employees and work in the mailroom and drive the delivery truck and get the coffee every morning. He’d take red states and blue states and somehow make purple.

Ultimately, Jesus’ sword of division brings us together, not around our own rallying points but his. Jesus breaks our illusion of peace by pulling our attention away from our addiction to our own point of view and our fear of conflict. Jesus demands our undivided attention.

Each week we read names and nations and situations that need our attention in prayer. As I look at the list there is not one item that bothers me or makes it difficult for me to pray. What if the church also had a so-called ‘enemies list’: a list of persons and situations needing prayer that would be a struggle for us. Jesus said that we were to love our enemies and pray for them. Who would you have difficulty praying for?

As a church, what is your comfort zone? Where are you being challenged to step out in faith? What is it about Jesus’ message that disturbs you, bothers you, and afflicts your personal and collective conscience? What is it about Jesus that presents a crisis, a moment or occasion of truth and decision, in your life and in your life together? Think about what has been bothering you recently as a church, as person of faith, and ask yourselves, “Is this worth spending our energy, my energy on or is there something more important? Is this about me and my will be done or is this about Jesus and God’s will be done?” As my friend said, “If we must be bothered, and we must, let us be bothered by the right reasons.” Find what it is about Jesus that fires you up and gets you hot under the collar and then follow that.




Let us dare to believe in that One, our Savior who came with a sword to cut us loose from our chains of comfort, our bondage to the ways things are, our “peace at any price”, that we might be set free, that we might have power to imagine something more wonderful and life-giving—even a church as dangerous as one that gives birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning. What makes this church dangerous? Yep, I’d join a church like that. How about you?

The "Agnes" story is from Let Me Tell You a Story by Tony Campolo, (c) 2000, published by Thomas Nelson.

A place for our stuff

Parable of the Rich Fool by Jim Janknegt

Psalm 49; Luke 12: 13-21
Woodmont United Church of Christ, Milford, CT
August 1, 2010

In 1981 George Carlin made a comedy album entitled “A Place for My Stuff”. I can still remember listening to a cassette tape of this routine in my mom’s overstuffed kitchen:

“That's all I want, that's all you need in life, is a little place for your stuff, ya know? …[E]verybody's got a little place for their stuff. This is my stuff, that's your stuff, that'll be his stuff over there. That's all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff. If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time.

“A house is just a pile of stuff with a cover on it. You can see that when you're taking off in an airplane. You look down; you see everybody's got a little pile of stuff; all the little piles of stuff. And when you leave your house, you gotta lock it up. Wouldn't want somebody to come by and take some of your stuff. They always take the good stuff. They never bother with that [junk] you're saving. All they want is the shiny stuff. That's what your house is, a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get...more stuff!

“Sometimes you gotta move, gotta get a bigger house. Why? No room for your stuff anymore. You gotta move your stuff, and maybe some of it goes into storage. Imagine that—a whole industry designed around keeping an eye on your stuff! Did you ever notice when you go to somebody else's house, you never quite feel a hundred percent at home? You know why? No room for your stuff. Somebody else's stuff is all over the place! And what awful stuff it is! Where did they get this stuff? And if you stay overnight, unexpectedly, they give you a little bedroom to sleep in. Bedroom they haven't used in about eleven years. Someone died in it, eleven years ago. And they haven't moved any of his stuff! Right next to the bed there's usually a dresser or a bureau of some kind, and there's NO ROOM for your stuff on it. Somebody else’s [junk] is on the dresser.

“Have you noticed that their stuff is [junk] and your [junk] is stuff? And you say, "Get that [junk] offa there and let me put my stuff down!"

We hear the humor in this because our ‘stuff’ can often be a source of anxiety. Do we have too much stuff or too little? Is our stuff safe? How much is our stuff worth? Can we lay our hands on what we need to find at any given moment? Is our stuff organized? Is it the right kind of stuff? Can we afford to get rid of some stuff or will we need that stuff in the future? What does our stuff say about us?

We all probably have known someone who has too much stuff, to the point that it has become an obstacle in our relationship with them. In the past five years or so the disorder of compulsive hoarding has been getting quite a bit of news, from Oprah Winfrey to TV news items and newspaper articles across the country. In years past, folks with this problem were considered eccentric or products of the Great Depression or just plain crazy. Now clinical social workers and other mental health professionals are researching and studying this behavior, from the Mayo Clinic to the Boston University School of Social Work, in order to help those who suffer from this disorder.

To a certain degree most of us have a problem with accumulating stuff—it’s whether or not it’s an obstacle, an addiction, or a bad habit. When we save stuff, hold onto it, hoard it, we give ourselves some sort of permission to do so, using one or more messages to ourselves: one, the object or item has sentimental value: it represents my life—it is a part of me, it was a gift from a special person or it belonged to them; two, the object has instrumental value: it could be repaired at some point and be of use; three, it has intrinsic value—it is beautiful or could be resold for an increased price someday. To let go of the item might cause us to feel anxious and fearful, so we hold onto it, like a child with a stuffed toy or blanket.

Luke 12: 2o-21, mezzotint made by Jacques Meheux and published by Girard Audran, Paris, France, 1660-1703.


In this morning’s gospel lesson Jesus tells the parable of the rich fool, a man who needs a bigger place for his stuff because he has so much. His first thought is not sharing what he has but storing it up for himself for many years so that he can relax, eat, drink and be merry. But Jesus isn’t looking for folks to relax into the future and pad themselves against the anxiety of the present; he’s looking for those who want to live in the kingdom of now. God says to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.” Jesus is looking for those who can make the transition between this world and the kingdom—right now.

Jesus makes plain the difference between security and serenity and puts it as a choice: what will reduce our anxiety and fear: riches and possessions or God? In the 1860’s during the Civil War and again amid the blind fears of communism in the 1950’s and ‘60’s the U.S. Treasury had the wisdom to put on our currency the words “In God we trust.” Rather than clinging to our stuff like a child’s transitional object, we are to transfer our anxiety instead to God; to trust God with our baggage, our stuff, our fears, our worries, so we don’t have to cling to it and carry it around with us while we’re trying to find that kingdom of now—God’s now of healing and peace and forgiveness; God’s now of justice and wholeness and compassion.

While writing this sermon my husband spoke to me about his recent mission trip to Oaxaca, Mexico; of how over two thousand indigenous people walked hours through the jungle to stand in line all day to receive a month’s worth of rice, beans, salt, and sugar. There are no guarantees that the food will be there every month but when a sign is posted even a week before, folks will show up, trusting the relationship they have with Bryan Nurnberger and the Simply Smiles mission trippers that come to help. That’s serenity. And though the food sustains life, it’s the relationships that transform lives and usher in that kingdom of now.

Even this seemingly skimpy meal that we share today—it’s not the bread and cup that matter the most but what they represent: the very real presence of God’s extravagant love in this world.

We don’t have to give up everything in order to serve Jesus and the kingdom. But what we hold onto, what we hoard, what we can’t let go of can be an obstacle in our relationship with God and hinder our view of that kingdom. As we say in the prayer of thanksgiving after communion, “make us aware not so much of what we’ve given as of all we have received and so have yet to share.”

In what are we investing our energy and our resources? Where is our focus? We may or may not be rich in things but how rich is our relationship with God? What takes priority in our lives and in our life together as a faith community? Jesus tells us that if we’re going to follow him, it’s the kingdom that takes priority. In the verses following in Luke Jesus tells his listeners that it is God’s good pleasure to give us the kingdom, but it is up to us to live into it.

All we need in life is not just a place for our stuff but a kingdom for the stuff of life…and love. Amen.