Praising God with Creation - Psalm 148

Praising God with Creation - Psalm 148


I grew up, and my parents still live, in a very small town called West Monroe; about a 30 minute drive north of Syracuse. When I was growing up there was only one blinking yellow light in the whole town, and there was only one church, and one small store and I was about 5 or 6 when the town finally organized a volunteer fire department. As part of a larger school district, West Monroe doesn’t even have its own elementary school. At both ends of my road were dairy farms, and there were two more dairy farms less than a mile away on the crossroad. Driving anywhere in the spring and fall often meant breathing in the pungent smell of cow manure being spread as fertilizer.

The block my parents’ house is on is about 2 and ½ miles in circumference and most of the land in the middle is woods, with a swamp in the center. My parents choose to build their house back in these woods on their 4 acres. In the summer one can hardly see the house from the road. Hemlocks and beach, white pine and maples surround the house, which only had a bit of a front lawn when I was growing up.

It was a wonderful place to play. My dad made a swing secured between two trees and a sand box in back of the house. The space under the umbrella branches of a hemlock became my pretend house. The shallow vernal stream and ponds between our house and the road became an adventure course: trying to cross over the stream on fallen logs to get to a little island; “fishing” for leaves with a stick, and “skating” on an icy area in the winter until I hit a thin patch and my boot would fill with icy water and I had to walk the dozen yards back home. My brother and other neighbor children and I would often make picnics and eat them out under the trees.

I learned to love the other creatures that lived in our woods. We had several bird feeders and I loved to watch the different birds coming to eat and the silly antics of the squirrels trying to outsmart my mechanical engineer father’s newest attempt to keep them out of the seeds. My parents taught me the names of the birds, and which songs they sang. Sometimes we would see deer and rabbits. When I was little I went to sleep in the spring to the peepers and in the summer to the song of the whip-poor-will, and as I got older a population of turkeys developed. I came to know many plants, the prodigious ground pine, and wild winter mint, the rare and beautiful trillium and the very occasional lady slipper. I used to plant the red berries of the mayflowers in my sand box. I loved turning over rocks and logs to find the creepy crawly bugs and worms scurrying below. I would catch toads, salamanders, frogs, fireflies and caterpillars and sometimes keep them for a while. My neighbor even taught me how to pick up the little snakes in the woods before I was 5 years old.

I also learned to love the elements. The sound and smell of summer rain falling on the leaves; the feeling of safety when I was in my house and the thunder clapped all around; the sound of the branches creaking against each other in a strong wind, and the cozy feeling of being at home by the fire while the snow was falling, snow on snow.

And then there were the stars. We didn’t even have streetlights on the corners when I was a kid, so the stars and the moon were the brightest and clearest. I learned some of the constellations by name; Orion became my favorite.

Even living so closely with nature, my parents usually took us camping when we went on vacation. We tented in many national and state parks; canoed in the lakes and streams trying to sneak up on beavers; climbed mountains in the Adirondacks, and Catskills; hiked to lovely waterfalls; explored the sea side at Manasquan, NJ, Arcadia National Park and Eastham, Cape Cod; spelunked through Mammoth cave in Kentucky; picked wild strawberries and blueberries; biked along old bits of the Erie Canal. I also frequented the local Girl Scout camp in the summers, eventually spending three whole summers living in platform tents as part of the staff. When looking at colleges I easily chose one located in an old apple orchard at the foot of the Holyoke Mt. range over the one on Commonwealth Ave. in Boston.

Coming to know so much of God’s creation so intimately; it is easy to read Psalms like 148 that invite all creation to praise God together. Creation praises God naturally, just by being and doing what God created it to be and do. The cosmos around us knows and expresses joy every day. And what is more hopeful than nature? Look at the life that comes back even after a forest fire. Look at the persistence of the dandelions even when people try all manner of banning them from their lawns. Look at the moss, which will grow on a roof, the trees, which will seed themselves in our gutters, and the flowers, which will start to grow even in the cracks of pavement if given half a chance. When we develop our relationship with the other creatures of this universe the scripture passages which treat nature as a being, almost an enchanted being, will no longer seem simply poetic, or fanciful. The mountains and the hills can break forth in singing and trees of the field do clap their hands. The real invitation is for us to recognize ourselves as part of creation and join together in the constant cacophony of praise.

What if we woke every morning and crowed like a rooster? Hallelujah! What if we sang quiet peaceful songs before we went to sleep each night? All night, all day, angels watchin’ over me my Lord… What if we frequently let feelings of delight well up within us like the geysers and spill out into our smiles and our speech, our thoughts and our actions?

What does all this have to do with Christmas? It is only the second day of Christmas after all. It hinges on the song of the angels at the time of Christ’s birth. Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace. It also has to do with the gospel of John’s description of Christ as the Word, present with God at creation, through whom the Father made all things. The meaning of the incarnation of God has a bigger meaning than we usually imagine. Christ is in a loving relationship with all of creation, not just with the human population. The joy of Emmanuel, God with us, is known to the whole world, and to the heavens above.

So let us participate with creation in taking delight in the Lord. Let us “make a list of God’s gracious dealings, and all the things God has done that need praising;” God’s “compassion lavished and love extravagant. ” Let every heart prepare room to receive Christ our king and let us raise up our voices with every creature in heaven and earth to sing God’s praise.

The Gift of Christ

The words of the prophet Isaiah start with darkness. He reminds us that the message of Christmas isn’t all superficial fluff and pretend goodwill. The message of Christmas is for real people who often walk in darkness. Those who know what it is like to live in a land of deep darkness. Isaiah’s good news is given to a people who have been living under a yoke of heavy burdens, with a burdensome bar across our shoulders so that sometimes we can barely move forward through life. The message is also for those who are oppressed by the rod of violence and poverty.

We are such a people who know darkness. We know what it means to loose loved ones to grave illness and death. We struggle with addictions, or we watch, feeling helpless as our loved ones struggle with addictions. Some have known the excruciating pain of the death of a child. Others find that when we interact with our children, we behave as badly as our parents did with us, no matter how strongly we vowed that we would be different. We know what it is to live with ongoing conflicts, anger that rarely subsides, or ingrown depression. We know the fear that comes when we loose our jobs, or can’t pay our bills, or loose the money invested for our old age. Some know great physical pain that never heals; others are trapped in mental or emotional illnesses and the social stigma that comes as part of the package. And when we take the time to reflect on our inner lives, many of us will find that there is darkness in our hearts, and in our thoughts that we’d rather not admit to.

As if our own darkness wasn’t enough, every day we sit in front of boxes that ironically use light to show us even more darkness. Not only in the news of wars, terrorism, tremendous greed of a few leading to tremendous suffering of many, and the inability of governments to work for the well-being of their people, but also in our dramas CSI, Survivor, and ER –even our comedies seem to depict more darkness than light these days. We know what it is to live in deep darkness.

The gift of Christ, which we have gathered to celebrate this evening is the very personal gift of God entering into our darkness. The heart of this celebration is not the birth of a baby per se, but that this particular baby named Jesus is both fully human and fully God.

Often we seem to sentimentalize the human part of Jesus. Oh, what a sweet baby, just like every other baby. Being born in a manger seems cute, fluffy lambs, funny shepherds dressed in bathrobes, and glowing young mother and beaming father and a visit from kings showering the family with gifts. All so sweet, calm and peaceful, but not very much like real life.

Even Luke leaves much to our imaginations when he conveys Jesus’ very human birth. He simply says, “While they were in Bethlehem, the time came for Mary to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him up and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the inn.”

Luke’s story may be understated, but it doesn’t take too much imagination and common sense to see how tough this event was for Mary and Joseph. Giving birth is a difficult undertaking at its best. There is a reason it is called labor. And giving birth 2000 years ago, away from home, or midwives, or an easy supply of hot water must have been traumatic indeed. Of all the Christmas pageants and movies I have seen about the nativity, the only time I have ever seen of a fully human birth of Christ depicted is in Langston Hughes’ Black Nativity. I saw it in downtown Boston about a decade ago. Mary and Joe Wallen went to see this year’s production just last Sunday. Here is how Mary describes the scene.

"This is not a romanticized version of the Christ child’s birth. Surrounded on both sides of the stage by a gospel choir, Joseph and Mary use modern dance to convey their terrible situation. They are on the road, Mary heavy with child, and suddenly Mary is doubled over in pain. She begs Joseph for help, for they have nowhere to go.

"Accompanied by African drums, Joseph, panicked, leaps about the stage, seeking shelter for his wife. He is turned away. He returns to cradle and comfort her. They have a very unusual dance together – Joseph the protective husband lifting his very pregnant wife in the air; Mary, the loving wife responding gracefully, then contracting in agony.

"Joseph exits the stage to keep searching. The drumming becomes louder and faster mirroring Mary’s pain and fear. Her solo is all angles and contractions. Her body extends as she longs for Joseph and then is pulled back over her belly as the baby draws near.

"Finally Joseph returns to her, the panic turned to resolve, ready to deal with the inevitable right where they are, in the middle of nowhere. The dancers turn their backs and after a few more contractions, Mary shows us her baby."

This is the beginning of the Good News that brings great joy. God doesn’t avoid our human darkness, but jumps into our lives of trouble and woe from the very beginning. God enters that darkness as the person of Jesus the Christ, becoming fully human. This is the basis for Paul’s strong claim that nothing can separate us from the love of God. For God is with us wherever we are.

Yet while Jesus Christ entered the darkness of human life with us, his purpose for coming into our world is to bring light and to make us children of the light. This is the meaning of salvation. Each human being was created in God’s image. So even though it is crucial to recognize that Christ is fully human, it is equally important to know that when we look at Christ he is also fully God. If we want to see how God intended each of us to be, we only need to look at Christ. When we decide to turn away from the darkness of our sins, and focus on the light of Christ we will be transformed and become children of the light.

Though you may not know this from what you see on tv, there are people imitating Christ and reflecting his light all the time. We just need to learn to look for it and recognize when it is happening. I found a great source on a web site called Good News Network with stories like this; the students of Dublin High School in San Francisco chose Rachel Cooperstein, a young woman with Downs syndrome as their home coming queen. An 11-year-old girl began drawing pictures of birds to raise money for the clean up of the Gulf Coast and she raised $200,000. A group of teens in Kansas found a discarded purse on the side of the road as the walked along and discovered $7,000 in it. They decided to return it to the owner, who was an elderly widow, planning to buy a memorial for her late husband. But we don’t need to turn to the news to see the light of Christ all around us. When we wake in the morning to a new day that is a gift from Christ. When someone says “thank you” that is the light of Christ. When a driver stops to let you cross the street, that is the light of Christ. When someone invites you for dinner, or a cup of coffee, that is the light of Christ. When you are invited to join with others in studying the word of God, or serve the hungry and lonely at Breaking Bread that is the light of Christ. When we gather to remember other children of the light who have passed from this world to the next, that is the light of Christ.

And we can participate in creating more light in the world. Every time we choose to forgive someone, every time we act with self-giving love, every time we exercise patience, kindness, gentleness or self-control we are walking as God’s children of light. Every time we sit with someone who is grieving, tend to someone who is sick, try to find the peaceful solution to the problem we are walking as God’s children of light.

The story of Christ’s birth in Luke is filled with light. This light is signified by the word glory – the angle of the Lord stood before the shepherds and the glory of the Lord shone around them. The heavenly choir of angles sang glory to God in the highest heaven! And after seeing the newborn Christ the shepherds returned with glory in their hearts and on their tongues as they told everyone of what they had seen. The mood of the story is filled with light too. The news of the angles was good news, of great joy, for everybody. I don’t know about you, but when I hear good news and am filled with great joy I feel like my feet are off the ground – I feel light.

In the season of Advent we focused on of hope, peace, joy and love as gifts from God. On this Christmas eve we can be sure that as we unwrap the gift of Christ in our lives we will also find the hope, peace, joy and love that life in Christ promises us. May we all walk together as children of the light so that our lives glorify God with every step we take.

The Hospitality of Lydia based on Acts 16:9-15

Today is my Mom’s and my first Mother’s Day with Grace. And it is the first Mother’s Day in many years that Mom and I are spending Mother’s Day together. It has been an even longer time since our family has had three generations of females together on Mother’s Day. But when I was a child, Mom and I spent several Mother’s Days with Grandma.

Grace’s middle name is Frances, after my Mom’s mother. Some of you have heard me mention my Grandmother, Frances Gertrude Edmands Wright who grew up in Somerville and married a Methodist minister. We could tell you many stories about Grandma, some of them very funny. But I’ve been thinking mostly this week about her gift of hospitality since this is the theme of worship today.

Grandma loved to have guests to her home. A little like Hyacinth Bucket (Bouquet) in Keeping Up Appearances, Grandma was always inviting people into her home for something to eat. Now Grandma wasn’t much of a cook, but she would do her best to make elegant meals. Often these were rounded off by New England puddings; Indian, Suit and Grapenut being most common. Her favorite summertime cuisine for guests seemed to be tomato aspic and salmon loaf. We hope her guests liked this menu better than we did! She would set the table with her good china, polish the silver and prepare a little entertainment for after the meal. Grandma let her guests know she was delighted to see them when they arrived. What distinguished Grandma from Hyacinth is that her gift of hospitality went along with her gift of story telling and her gift of listening to the stories of her guests, so that they truly felt cherished and welcome. Before they left, Grandma offered her visitors her Guest Book, and asked that they write a little something in it. Now and then as she aged, she could pull it out and remember the many happy times when she had company in her home. Grandma’s gift of hospitality was a blessing, not only to her guest, but also to herself.

Hospitality is lifted up in scripture as a virtue. Abraham and Sarah first heard the long awaited news that they would become parents while they were tending to three unexpected visitors who came to supper. A widow who was facing starvation with her son, offered hospitality to Elijah and her containers of meal and oil lasted until the famine was over. Jesus always seemed to be visiting people in their homes, or inviting them to dinner and he urged his disciples to welcome the stranger as if they were welcoming him. Paul exhorted the Roman church to “extend hospitality to strangers.” In his list of qualities expected of a bishop, Paul includes hospitality in both 1st Timothy and Titus. And the first letter of Peter says, “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.” Hospitality combines several fruits of the spirit listed in Galatians; love, joy, peace, kindness, generosity and gentleness all come into play with true hospitality. It is a key ingredient to the Christian faith. We can see two reasons why when we turn to today’s scripture.

First, hospitality is one major vehicle for the good news of Jesus Christ to spread. In fact all through Acts we see that the Apostles depended upon hospitality of the communities they visited as they brought the Good News of Jesus to them. They continued to follow Jesus’ directions found in Luke 10, “Whatever house you enter first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide.”

Paul took three missionary journeys to spread the gospel and stayed in people’s homes all along the way. The first journey was focused on Asia Minor, an area we call Turkey today where some welcomed him and started small churches. As he started out on his second journey Paul thought he would return to these churches and see how they were doing. But late at night he heard the Spirit of Jesus, in the form of a Macedonian, inviting him to move beyond his comfort zone, into Europe. Being convinced that God was calling them Paul, Silas, Timothy and Luke crossed the Aegean Sea to Macedonia. As was their practice, they first looked for a community of Jews in Philippi, for the Jews of the Diaspora, such as Tabitha, were more likely to welcome fellow Jews. But the Jews in the distant land of Philippi were such a minority that it took a few days even to find it. Finally they took a walk to the river outside the city gate, and there they found the tiny congregation, perhaps not even big enough to make up a quorum of ten men. They may have been few, but their welcome was notable. Lydia welcomed the Apostles into her community and into her home and this led not only to her own baptism, but to the baptism of her whole household and the beginnings of the church in Philippi.

While these stories show lead us to believe that it is easier to spread the gospel to non-Christians who practice hospitality, other scripture reminds us that the church also grows when Christians are hospitable. Just a few weeks ago Kevin reminded us about the daring hospitality of Ananias when the recently blinded and repentant Saul needed to be healed and trained up in the way of Jesus. Without Ananias’ welcome Paul’s conversion might never have been completed and he might not have gone on to invite so many others to follow Jesus. Recently American Christians are reawakening to the importance of hospitality in church growth. If you type the words “hospitality” and “evangelism” on Amazon’s web site you will find 35 titles including: Welcoming the Stranger, Widening the Welcome of your Church; Fireweed Evangelism: Christian Hospitality in a Multi-Faith World; God’s Welcome: Hospitality for a God-Hungry World.

In Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations Robert Schnase gives an example of radical hospitality. He tells of a young mother who visited a small congregation of mostly older adults one Sunday. As the pastor was getting to know her, this mom expressed feeling self-conscious whenever her baby started to fuss during worship. So the pastor
met with the congregation’s leaders and they decided that they valued having young people so highly that they had to do something to ease the discomfort. To show support for the young mom, they bought a comfortable, well-padded rocking chair and placed it just behind the last pew of the sanctuary. Word got around, and soon they had to have two more rocking chairs to accommodate the moms who found this congregation to be the friendliest around!
As a result the congregation has grown. “The secret has been an active hospitality that has become contagious throughout the congregation.”

Many visitors comment that we have a friendly congregation. But there still might be some steps we could take to improve our hospitality. For example, have you looked at the signs on our parking lot? They warn people of trespassing which may result in towing and fines and nothing says that the lot belongs to us. When I was arranging for guest preachers I had to let them know to ignore the signs, and assure them they were welcome to park there. We could do something to improve the welcome we give to any strangers driving to worship with us for the first time. What else can you think of that we could do to make sure that anyone who comes to worship with us is welcome? One practice that goes hand in hand with hospitality is invitation. Lydia not only invited Paul and his friends to her home, she “urged” them and perhaps had to convince them because Luke says that finally she “would take no refusal.”

A second reason that hospitality is a key Christian virtue may surprise us. We generally think of what we do for others when we practice hospitality. But radical hospitality doesn’t only affect the ones we welcome; it can deeply affect us as well. Look at Lydia. She was already part of a congregation. She attended the weekly gathering for prayer with the Jews of Philippi. She had moved to Philippi some years ago from Asia Minor, and she must have been a person of means because she ran her own business and was the head of a household. As a dealer of fabric only worn by the rich and famous of the Roman Empire, she probably rubbed elbows with them on a regular basis. Her life was good and I imagine that she wasn’t yearning for any big transformation. Yet true hospitality requires a posture of openness toward the other which can be life changing. Lydia didn’t just give to the visitors; she received what they had to give too. She listened to their stories. The Bible tells us “the Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what Paul said.” And as she soaked in the good news of Jesus, it moved her so that she was no longer satisfied with her life as it had been, she wanted to be transformed to a follower of Jesus, and she and her household were baptized.

When we truly practice hospitality we open ourselves up to change. My grandparents, and my parents and Uncles and Aunts welcomed many different kinds of people into their homes. I remember meeting people from all over the world, Puerto Rico, Micronesia, India and Ethiopia for the first time in the homes of my family. By their presence our understanding of the world was expanded. Because my family practiced hospitality I knew I could welcome the foreign college students back home with me on the weekends during the summers when I worked at a nearby camp. And because of the friendships we built through hospitality, I was invited to visit some of them when I traveled abroad to their hometowns. As an adult I have carried on the practice of hospitality in my home, volunteering to meet the guest speakers of my Camp Farthest Out at Logan and inviting them to stay with me for a few days before or after camp. Having this special time with them alone, they have listen and talked, offered wise counsel and prayed with me. One very tall fatherly friend from Australia helped me out when I was buying my car, by going with me to the dealer. Our lives can be enriched and blessed our faith can be deepened and God can lead us in new directions through the genuine hospitality we practice.

Hospitality is a wonderful gift from God. It is a tool for bringing about the kingdom of heaven. We can use this gift with joy, and nurture like a plant until it grows like a tree and the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.

As we honor our mothers this day, and all the women who, like Lydia, have been generous with their gift of hospitality, let us remember the words from Hebrews that, “thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

Imagine! based on Revelation 21:1-6

Imagine the World
In 1971, in the thick of the Vietnam War, which you could say was just part of the dreadfully freighting Cold War, John Lennon wrote and recorded his most beloved song, Imagine. Wikipedia quotes President Jimmy Carter as saying, “In many countries around the world—my wife and I have visited about 125 countries—you hear John Lennon's song ‘Imagine’ used almost equally with national anthems.” The song invites us to imagine a world with no countries; no possessions, no need for greed or hunger, nothing to kill or die for and all the people of the world sharing resources and living in peace.

The picture Lennon painted for us is very similar to many Utopian visions across time and cultures including some of the images written by another John, John of Patmos, a.k.a. John the author of Revelations. At the end of his complex, vividly graphic and often perplexing writing John the Revelator, as some have called him, describes a peaceful world, when the chaos and danger represented by the sea will be no more. Every tear will be wiped away. “Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” Those who thirst will be given the water of life. The imagination of John the Revelator and the vision of John Lennon have much in common.

As God would have it
Yet even when I was a child John Lennon’s utopia bothered me. For he specifically imagined that there was no heaven and no religions, which seems also to ban the Father, Son and Holy Spirit from the picture.

In contrast the Christian image of John of Patmos places the Trinity at the very center of the picture, and the name of this new and renewed earth is, indeed, heaven. It is the heaven we pray for every time we say, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” For Christians heaven is where our God lives and reigns in the very midst of us. Verse three says, “See! Look! Behold! the home of God is among mortals. God will dwell with them; they will be God’s peoples and God himself will be with them.”

It has been common in modern times for people to think that if we just get rid of religion, we could get rid of so many wars that seem to be fought over religion. Yet the church teaches that we can’t know God, or God’s purpose for creation without this book, and without a long tradition of followers of Jesus to guide us. The ancients spoke of the veil hanging between where we live and where God dwells. And Revelation has a vision of this veil being removed. Not only that, we aren’t meant to go “up to heaven” but God is coming “down” to dwell with us.

The peace that will follow is proclaimed in scripture to be the way the Lord intended it from the very first day of creation. “It is finished! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” Psalm 148 adds to this image by urging all of creation to praise God, even sea monsters and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind…mountains and hills, fruit trees and cedars, wild animals and cattle, creeping things and flying birds. All of creation is renewed and invited to return to the main business for which we were created – praising the Lord.

The world as our Lord would have it, the new heaven and the new earth has at its core a calling. A specific call begun with Abraham, carried on with Moses, continued through the dynasty of King David through the reign of Jesus the Messiah it is extended to all peoples of the earth. That call is to live according to God’s rule. The Revelation according to John is an extension of the vision given to Isaiah in chapter 65:17-25

Live into it.
In Revelation, John of Patmos had and gave us a glimpse of God’s new heaven and earth – breaking in on us here and now. Other scriptures add to that picture, and our experience is only enhanced if we can add our imaginations too. St. Francis of Assisi did this by inviting all creatures to sing praises to God. “O brother wind, air, clouds and rain, by which all creatures ye sustain, O praise ye! Alleluia!” Hildegard of Binging, Dante, Michelangelo, Edward Hicks who is famous for his peaceable kingdom, so very many artists’ and authors’ imaginations have been inspired by visions of God’s reign coming to pass in our midst. The words of our Great Thanksgiving prayer before communion, the words of our hymns. Our whole tradition invites us to join in, and imagine what it will be like when God’s will is completely, and totally done on earth as it is in heaven.

Yes, John Lennon – you are a dreamer. And you are not the only one. We Christians can join you, even as we hold on to our faith, and offer our understanding that such peace will come, and the earth as we know it is what will pass away, when God turns our world into heaven.

Jesus encourages us to be playful and imaginative by telling us that unless we become like little children we can’t enter the kingdom of heaven. So let us practice our childlike qualities and take some time now to prayerfully engage our imaginations as we dream of the new heaven and new earth for which we yearn. I was once a preschool teacher and I have whipped up some salt and flour clay for you to use. As you imagine our world being transformed as God dwells in our midst shape your vision in the clay. Then bring your creation forward and place it on the table in front of the poster.


Let us pray:
Open our eyes to new possibilities, O God, and through our sacred imaginings, help us catch a glimpse of how life can be for us. May we be people who are open to your presence – even when your presence comes in unexpected sources and in surprising ways. And may this be a place where no one suffers alone but where each tear finds a home in the heart of another. You are making all things new and, with your vision before us, we will give shape to our priorities and efforts as a community.

"Tabitha, Get Up!" based on Acts 9:36-43

The United Methodist Women of the church where I grew up had three or four circles named after women in the Bible. Dorcas was one of them. I didn’t know who Dorcas was at the time, but now I see that the name aptly described the kind of women who made up that circle. This woman called Dorcas was “devoted to good works and acts of charity.” All of us probably knows at least one such woman; strong, compassionate and caring – the kind the church depends upon to keep things going. Like Marmee in Little Women, she provides food and clothing to the poor and sick in her community. Like Dorothy Day she is bold enough to invite the poor into her own dwelling, and to speak out in society, raising questions about the circumstances that lead to such poverty. She’s the one who organizes the baby showers for the new mothers. She knits prayer shawls, and makes beanbags to sooth aching muscles, and makes up boxes of cookies to mail to the college students on Valentine’s Day. She collects money for blankets and prepares the fellowship meals, which serve to knit the community of the church together. She stops to visit the lonely, sends cards, or calls regularly on the phone making sure they know that they are loved and appreciated.

The name Dorcas in Greek, and Tabitha in Aramaic, means gazelle. And like a gazelle Tabitha must have moved quickly, able to multi task. Like gazelles, Tabitha did not try to live alone, but made her home in her community, becoming an integral strand in the fabric.

So this story starts out with a very familiar character in the church. And when Tabitha suddenly became ill and died we aren’t too surprised, for we all have been part of that scene too. When one of our number becomes ill and dies we band together, offer soups and casseroles. Somebody calls the minister. We see that the body of the one we love is washed and prepared for burial, and we gather to remember all that he or she has meant to us. When Peter, who was nearby, heard what had happened to this sister disciple he made his way to Joppa. The congregation led him to the room where Tabitha was laid out, and they told stories through their tears of how much this woman had meant to them. They had even brought samples of her fine handiwork to show.

But then the unusual happened. Rather than launching into the funeral service, Peter asks all of the people to leave the room. Then he knelt down to pray. Upon feeling the assurance from God that Tabitha’s life would be restored he said to the body, “Tabitha, get up.” And miraculously she opened he eyes and when she saw Peter, she sat up! He gave her his hand an helped her up and then called the congregation, the widows and other saints there and presented her to be alive.

This is a fitting story of resurrection for this season of Easter. It shows that not only Jesus Christ, but others, through his power, can be brought back to life from death. Tabitha can be numbered along with Lazarus and Jairus’ daughter as one who had her life restored. When we imagine being part of her community, we look at Tabitha with astonishment and praise God for such a blessing. Hallelujah.

Yet the story is also disturbing. For if a pastor can raise Tabitha from the dead through prayer in Jesus’ name, why is it that so many of the equally faithful, strong, compassionate and caring members of the Dorcas circle of Cicero UMC have died and been buried? Why have we at Wesley had to say farewell to our beloved sisters Joan and Isabelle in recent months? And even though Mildred lived well beyond 100, even she eventually had to face death as well. As a pastor, stories of resurrection in this life are disturbing because I have never dared to do what Peter did. Surely it would be cruel to tell a person or their loved ones only to believe and God will definitely grant their desire to live on in this world. What if I raised someone’s hopes and they were then not met? When I was being trained in pastoral care I was taught to be good listeners, to help people be at peace with mortality, and trust that God was as much with them in death as in life, but we were not coached to pray like Peter, for the dead to return to life.

But I have heard stories of some, who like Tabitha, have returned from the dead; or as we sometimes call it, they had “near death experiences.” In the early days of Camp Farthest Out the founder Glenn Clark, and some of the other leaders, like Agnes Sanford, were well known for the effectiveness of their prayers for healing. I have been told that when Agnes was scheduled to speak at a camp the leaders had to keep it a secret, otherwise multitudes would flock there just to be healed and the camp would be greatly disrupted. It seems good to me to read their books more carefully, and follow the methods of prayer, which worked for them. It seems good to me that we are spending some weeks together studying healing in Bible study.

But even Sanford has said that, “it is not the duty of every Christian to pray for everyone. Our prayers will help some and will not help others, for reasons beyond our understanding or control. Only the Holy Spirit can safely direct our healing power.” And healing is a spiritual gift, given more generously to some than to the rest of us. Furthermore, the healing flows through different people in different ways. Peter was able to pray and say “Tabitha, get up!” and she was made well. Tabitha’s method of healing, however, was in her constant, tireless caring for others in the community.

The last part of today’s scripture gives me some insight into the raising of Tabitha. After Peter called the congregation and showed Tabitha to be alive, the miracle became known throughout the town and many believed in the Lord. You see, raising a dead person to life, or any other kind of miraculous healing is not an end to itself. It is a means to God’s greater purpose of drawing others into relationship with him. In the case of the people of Joppa, folks were drawn to faith through hearing that this good, strong, compassionate woman who had done so much for the community had been given new life through the power of the risen Lord. In other times and places people have been drawn to faith in Jesus through the dignified life and peaceful and death of a believer like Mildred Buck, and in yet other times and places people have been drawn into the folds of the church through the witness of those who have died as martyrs in Jesus’ name.

Our very life is a gift from God, and it’s ultimate purpose is to give glory to God – in our living and in our dying; at times when miracles occur, and in our ordinary everyday good works and charity. As we turn to a time of prayer let us open ourselves to being a channel of healing for others, and a recipient of healing ourselves. And in all may we give God the glory and praise.

Agnes Sanford, The Healing Light, McAlister Park; St. Paul, 1947. p. 105

Freedom of Religion based on Acts 5:27-32

On January 6, 1941, Franklin Delano Roosevelt gave a speech enumerating four basic freedoms to which every American is entitled. Soon afterward Norman Rockwell painted a series illustrating these freedoms. Among them was the freedom of religion. Rockwell’s painting, you may remember, has eight people, men and women, all praying in different ways. The Catholic, Protestant and Jewish faiths are all represented, as well as black and white, old and young people. At the top is a caption “each according to the dictates of his own conscience.”

Freedom of religion goes back to the European settlement of America. Some of the original 13 colonies were founded by those who felt restricted back in Europe. Though the Protestant Reformation led to the development of different expressions of Christianity, by and large governments held on to the notion that they should determine the religion of their people. Prussia was Protestant, France was Catholic, England’s monarch was the head of the Church of England – but the politics and the religious distinctions were messy. New groups of dissenters always popped up, and many times they were violently persecuted. We all know that the Puritans came to New England with hope that on this side of the pond they could be free to set up community life according to their understanding of the Christian faith. Maryland was founded as a refuge for Catholics. Rhode Island became a providential haven for Roger Williams and others who found themselves persecuted by the Puritans. Later when the newly constituted country produced it’s first amendments freedom of religion was at the top of the list. “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

One way we can see how America’s protection of religious freedom is playing out today is by looking at the work of Harvard Professor, Diana Eck who has been the head of the Pluralism Project. This project “explores and interprets the religious dimensions of America's new immigration; the growth of Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, Jain, and Zoroastrian communities in the United States; and the new issues of religious pluralism and American civil society.” One result of her study is a fascinating book; A New Religious America: How a "Christian Country" Has Become the World's Most Religiously Diverse Nation, published in 2001.

But even as the diversity of religious expression has increased in the United States, mainline Protestant and Catholic congregations have been decreasing. For decades now many other sociologists like Boston University’s Peter Berger have been tracking the growing secularism of our culture. Those of us who still attend worship regularly don’t need sociologist to tell us that our churches have been in decline for the last 40 years or more. It seems that what started out as freedom of religion, has for many become a freedom from religion. Or the freedom to dabble in different religious traditions; taking a little from here, and a little from there like a potluck supper until one has his or her own unique belief system. In the 1980s sociologist Robert Bellah dubbed this phenomena “Sheilaism” in his book Habits of the Heart. As Bellah worries, such freedom, when taken to extremes can dramatically weaken the power of faith in American culture.

Today’s reading from Acts, in contrast, shows the power faith when the world gives Christians no guarantees of freedom. It takes place just a couple of months after the first Easter. Like the punch line of a joke, we need to know what comes before it to really understand what it going on. Acts picks up where the gospel of Luke leaves off, starting in Jerusalem and then expanding out to Samaria and the ends of the earth. Robert Wall calls the first part the Jerusalem Mission. If you flip back to chapter 3 you will read how Peter and John went to the Temple to pray, and on the way they stopped and healed a lame beggar in the name of Jesus. This act caused a crowd to form, and Peter took the opportunity to preach the gospel to them. This greatly annoyed the priests, Sadducees and captain of the temple. So they arrested Peter and John and brought them before the Sanhedrin the next day. Peter started preaching again and the authorities ordered them to stop speaking in Jesus’ name. Peter responded that they could not stop speaking about what they had witnessed. The crowd was very supportive, and was still praising God for the healing, so the officials warned them again and let the apostles go.

When Peter and John returned to the others and told their story, the congregation prayed for strength to continue to witness to God’s wonderful deeds in Jesus. “And now, Lord,” they prayed, “look at their threats, and grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.” As a result they felt stronger, filled with the Holy Spirit and went out again to speak the word of God with boldness.

So the high priest took action again. This time he arrested all the apostles and put them in prison. But during the night the angel of the Lord came and let them out. Rather than running way to a safe house, the apostles went right back to the Temple and continued to preach in Jesus’ name. This bold action was not just the apostle’s bravado – for the angel gave them instructions, “Go, stand in the Temple and tell the people the whole message about this life.”

Finding the apostles back at it, the captain and the temple police arrested them again and brought them, once more, before the Sanhedrin. This is where today’s passage picks up. The high priest, probably quite annoyed by now, said, “We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and are trying your best to blame us for the death of this man.” And Peter, rather than using legal arguments to defend himself, began to preach once again. It seems that the apostle’s mission to spread the gospel was unstoppable.

It seems to me that the legal freedom of religion, though good for us, is not as powerful as the freedom God gives followers of Jesus Christ to witness to his gospel regardless of the social/political climate. Freedom of religion can make us so relaxed about our faith that we become complacent, lukewarm, ho hum. It can lead us to feel that it doesn’t really matter if we are part of a congregation, or which one we are part of, or how committed we are to practicing our faith. Though I won’t argue that it would be better for us to live under religious persecution, it is clear that the church often grows better and faster under persecution – look at China today.
Perhaps we need to think more deeply about what freedom really means. In a culture that values the individual so highly we often assume that freedom means each one can do whatever he or she wants all the time. But such narcissistic individualistic freedom lacks any oomph or power and we find ourselves floating along in circles in our own little paddle boats in isolated little meaningless ponds.

But the freedom God gives to his people is a freedom with power and strength. It is the freedom to stand up against those who would put us down, a freedom to persist even when arrested, even when imprisoned, and sometimes even unto death. It is the freedom, which Rosa Parks and Dr. King found when they joined together with a community of believers to witness to the equality of human beings as God created us. It is the freedom of Corrie ten Boom and Deitrich Bonhoeffer to join the Christian underground opposing the Nazi party and protecting as many Jews as they could. It is the freedom of Desmond Tutu to lead South Africa to face the truth after apartheid, and move toward reconciliation. The freedom we are talking of is the freedom, which comes when we remold our individual desires to be in alignment with God’s will for our communal life. Such freedom is found in Christian community when we all get on the same boat, lift up our anchors and open our sails to the power of the Holy Spirit ready to move together in the direction that the Spirit is blowing.

The angel of the Lord didn’t free the apostles and let them run away to safety. No, the Lord instructed them to go right back to the task of bearing witness to Jesus Christ in the epicenter of the conflict – the Temple in Jerusalem. God liberates us for a purpose – to spread the gospel so that others may also know freedom in Jesus Christ.

In a nation where we are granted freedom of religion, it may be more difficult to see what is holding us back from being effective witnesses to God’s salvation in Jesus Christ. What serve as anchors to our boat? What are the ropes which bind our sails? Perhaps we don’t want to seem judgmental or self-righteous of others who have a different faith. And thus become fearful of proclaiming the good news we have found in Jesus. Perhaps our freedom tempts us to divide our time and attention, giving only a fraction to God. But I think it is safe to assume that whenever followers of Jesus Christ find ourselves just floating along, with a lack of direction or power in our ministry, there has to be something holding us back, some kind of anchor that is keeping us tethered, some kind of rope that is binding our sails, preventing us from catching the Spirit.

I stand here today offering a situation for us to ponder. We all need to work together to figure out the solution. What specifically do we need to do to receive the powerful freedom experienced by the apostles? a freedom where people experience healing, and are attracted to join the church of Jesus Christ? At the 2008 General Conference of the United Methodist Church an additional promise was added to the membership vows taken when one joins the church – to support the local congregation with our prayers, presence, gifts, service and our witness. But how do we begin to witness. What will that look like for us? Joe and I tried door hangers in the neighborhood last spring, and a praise concert. We tried International Delights last fall. We are making use of the free publicity offered in the Medford Transcript and we are working on a web site. How else could we join forces and witness to the love of God in Jesus Christ here at Wesley church?

The scriptures do give us a place to start. When Peter and John were released from prison they returned to the community. Together they remembered who God was, they sang hymns praise, and they prayed. “Lord, grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.” I believe that this congregation can grow if we will only begin to witness to Jesus Christ, and Bible study, worship and prayer are the way to begin.

Why Are You Weeping? based on John 20:1-18

“Why are you weeping?” This question in the gospel of John jumps out at us today. Though we generally think of Easter day as a time of great celebration and rejoicing, this question reminds us that for Mary Magdalene, and the other disciples, the day started out in deep sadness. I suspect Mary awoke that morning, so soon after the crucifixion, with a heavy heart. Though John doesn’t tell us so, I imagine she wiped her tears with the edge of her dress even as she made her way to the tomb. Sadness may have been temporarily replaced by alarm when she saw the stone rolled away. And she may have felt afraid while she ran to tell Simon Peter and the other disciple. But by the time she returned to the tomb the overwhelming emotion she felt was despair. And so she stood there, weeping, and as she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb.

How surprised Mary must have been when she saw two angles sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying! They were the first to ask her the question. “Why are you weeping?” Shouldn’t these messengers from God know the situation? But she tried to explain, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” They gave no reply.

Then she stepped out of the tomb, turned and saw a man. And he asked her the same question. “Woman, why are you weeping?”

In the drama of the story John doesn’t stop to tell us why Mary is weeping. But I would like us to consider the possible answers to the question. Why did Mary weep? What could be the source of tears for any follower of Jesus, like you and me?

Of course it is normal to weep after the death of someone we love dearly. Mary had followed Jesus for a long time. They had traveled many miles together with the other disciples. She had learned much from him, and he had given her a kind of respect that few men gave to women at that time. The feelings of loss; the bleak realization that the loved one who has died will no longer be there to share a meal, or tell a joke, or embrace can be overwhelming. Such grief can last for a very long time, and just when we think we are over the worst of it, we hear a song, or come across the persons’ favorite food, or their old comfy sweater and we find the tears welling up in us all over again. And we weep. Why are you weeping? I am weeping for grief, for loss of a special relationship that is forever changed by death.

Why are you weeping? Another possible source of Mary’s tears could be stress. The last few days had been particularly stressful. It was the time of Passover – and big holidays like that with lots of food to prepare can make a person exhausted. Besides all of the work of cooking big fancy meals, there is the added pressure of trying to make the holiday just perfect. John doesn’t say who prepared the meal that Thursday night where Jesus washed the disciples’ feet and gave them final words. But we can be pretty safe to assume that the women, including Mary Magdalene, did most of the work. ˜ When the meal was over Jesus and the disciples went to the garden, I imagine that Mary stayed behind with the other women to clean up. Perhaps they were just putting away the last dishes, and hanging the towels to dry, ready to finally get off of their tired feet when the distressing news came that Jesus had been arrested, and taken to the high priest. At this point Mary’s tiredness would have escalated to full-blown stress, which only got worse as the events unfolded on Friday. She witnessed the angry crowds yelling “Crucify him!” and she heard the nails driven into his hands and feet, and she stood before his cross and watched her beloved Jesus suffocate to death. Being witness to such violence causes humans to develop posttraumatic stress disorder. And weeping is a common result of such exhaustion and stress.

Why are you weeping? When we put ourselves in Mary’s position we can understand that besides being stressed and tired, she also must have been feeling very confused at this point. Jesus was her leader. He had made many promises and performed many miracles. Not only had he fed 5,000, healed many sick and walked on water, but he had raised Lazarus from the dead. That procession they had into Jerusalem last week – didn’t they do that because Jesus was the Messiah – a new leader of the people of God who would establish a new government? He had raised so many hopes for the future. Hadn’t she been following the Way, the Truth and the Life? But now Jesus was dead, and those hopes and dreams had died with him. What had happened? How could things have gone so wrong? With no leader what would the disciples do? They had become sheep without a shepherd. They felt lost and abandoned. All good reasons to weep.

Many of us can identify with Mary’s situation. We start out on a path, which we believe is the right one. We think we are following Jesus and we catch a glimpse of a bright future ahead, and devote our efforts to moving toward it. But then something terrible happens, a flood, an earthquake, a nosedive in the economy, a rejection letter. We loose our home, our job, our life savings, the things that we were relying upon to bring us happiness. The very thing for which we have been preparing is ripped away. It leaves us feeling lost, confused, dazed. It’s enough to make us weep.

Why are you weeping? The events of the past few days put an exclamation point on the degree of danger involved with being a follower of Jesus. The religious authorities thought he was leading a rebellion that had to be put down with violence. And the Roman officials seemed willing to sacrifice Jesus’ little band to pacify the majority. The disciples had recently become frightened enough that some, like Peter, started carrying swords. If the authorities would kill their leader, surely it was dangerous to admit to being his follower. Isn’t that what led Peter to deny Christ three times before the sun rose Friday morning? The world is a fearful place. Who can be trusted? How can we make sure we are safe? When the fear of danger becomes overwhelming we also respond like the disciples, keeping a low profile, locking ourselves away in an upper room, and weeping for fear.

Why are you weeping? Finally, there is the whole injustice of what they did to Jesus. ˜ Jesus, who carried no weapon, Jesus, who healed the sick, fed the hungry, welcomed children. Jesus was kind and loving and did nothing to harm anyone. ˜ Yet his enemies had him destroyed. At the end of his so called trial, when Pilot could find no reason to justify capital punishment, he chose to wash his hands of the matter rather than defy the angry crowds and serve justice.

We, like Mary, can see injustice all around us. Even if it doesn’t seem to affect us directly we cry out when we see brothers and sisters treated unfairly because of their ethnic background, gender or race. When innocent people suffer because of institutional racism. When all immigrants to America are treated with suspicion and prejudice in response to the few who actually seek to do our country harm. When the corporate executives retire with their huge golden parachutes paid for by taxpayers who are still unable to get modest business loans or mortgages. When federal and state budget cuts affect the children more severely than anyone else, it’s enough to make us weep.

Why are you weeping? Is it from grief, exhaustion and stress, feeling lost, afraid or due to injustice – or some mixture of all of these things? The good news is that the Lord meets us in our sorrow, listens to our concerns and stands ready to exchange our tears for Easter joy.

When we weep tears of grief, the risen Christ meets us and offers us the gift of eternal life. It is true that after his death nothing would be the same. Jesus explained that things would not go back to the way they were. “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father,” he said. Christ is alive, but his journey up from the grave continued up to his place beside God the Father in heaven. Because Christ rose, we can have faith that those who believe in him will also have a place in heaven, the gift of eternal life. “Where I am going, there you will be also,” he promised. In this we rejoice.

When we weep tears of exhaustion and stress, the risen Christ meets us and offers us the gift of the Holy Spirit. As he promised the Holy Spirit is our comforter, our counselor and our advocate. Even as Christ ascended to heaven, the Holy Spirit remains with us to renew our strength, to carry our burdens and to lead us into new life even in this world. In this we rejoice.

When we weep tears out of confusion, feeling that our way is lost, Christ meets us as the Good Shepherd. Just as he promised, Jesus the Good Shepherd knows his sheep by name. As soon as she heard his voice call her name, “Mary!” she recognized him and her heart leapt for joy. The risen Christ continues to lead us, even when the path leads through the valley of death. Though we might not be able to see the way, we can trust that our Lord is the Way and the Truth and the Life and continue to follow our Good Shepherd. In this we rejoice.

When we weep tears of fear, Christ meets us and offers us the protection of the Heavenly Father. Jesus gave a message to Mary, he asked her to tell the other disciples that his Father is our Father, his God is our God. Just as Jesus prayed at the Last Supper, God our Father protects us in times of danger. Our father will guard us so that not one will be lost. Even when the world hates us, we can dry or tears and take courage that the Lord will keep and protect us. In this we rejoice.

When we weep tears of injustice Christ meets us and invites us to gather at his table, not as Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, but as equally beloved children of God. Though Christ is our Lord and master, he taught us to reverse injustice by taking the form of a servant and washing his disciples’ feet. And he taught us that we also must practice justice by serving one another, lifting up the lowly. As his followers we are strengthened by this meal to look our oppressors in the eye, and to stand up for our neighbors who are oppressed. The risen Christ gives us strength to live, not according to the world, but according to the just and righteous way of God. In this we rejoice.

As Mary left the garden to carry the message of the risen Christ to her brothers and sisters, I imagine that she was still weeping. But now her tears were transformed from tears of grief, exhaustion, confusion, fear, and injustice to tears of joy. May we all find ourselves overcome with such joy this Easter and in the days to come. Amen.