tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57847836355368535342024-02-20T14:06:02.972-06:00Can you believe it?Elaine Blanchard, storyteller, actor and writer, has written a play,
"For Goodness Sake," with David Prete. Based on a true story, Blanchard and Prete have created a powerful solo performance showing the effects of oppression (sexual, religious and racial) on one human being. The story involves fourteen characters and Blanchard performs all of the roles. A compelling performer, Elaine invites the audience to go with her on a journey of redemption and transformation.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-63856877233156672182016-05-29T13:46:00.003-05:002016-05-29T13:46:54.207-05:00Have Mercy
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Preached at Church of the River/ First Unitarian Church, Memphis</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">May 29, 2016</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Matthew 9:9-13</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Any belief system that we call religion must engage humans in
a journey that takes them deeper into the experiences of loving and being
loved. True religion teaches us to become more merciful toward ourselves and
others or it is not worthy of being called a religion. For religion is a way of
learning about God, the creator and sustainer of life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">God is love. Love is merciful; love is kind. Love is patient.
It does not keep score. Love crosses over and erases the boundary that
separates sinners from God. To me, to be a sinner is to fail to recognize how
much I am loved. We all tend to fail in that regard from time to time. I know I
do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus was merciful toward all of us… beggars, prostitutes, tax
collectors, prisoners, ex-felons, homeless men and women, people with mental
illness, foreigners, widows, orphans and people with contagious diseases. His
inclusiveness was religious, racial, economic and political. He didn’t judge
people and stamp them with a label: illegal immigrant, lazy welfare queen, unwed
mother, promiscuous drug addict, hopeless bum.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus sat with people considered outcasts and he ate with
them, drank with them, laughed with them and enjoyed their company. This was
outrageous to the righteous!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
criticized him and they criticized his disciples, insisting that they justify
their behavior. “Get it right or get out!” the righteous demand. This has
nothing to do with God, love or mercy. So what does it have to do with
religion?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The early church took quite seriously the mercy of Jesus. The Roman
world was amazed at the courage and mercy of Christians in the middle of
plagues, war and persecutions. Jesus called “the least of these” into the heart
of his redemptive love. And the early Christians were known for following Jesus’
example.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Followers of Jesus opened their hearts and their homes to
others because it was their calling. They had been lovingly received into a new
way of life, a fuller and freer way of living and being. They had no reason to
shut others out of the experience that had embraced them with hope, eliminating
their fears and healing their wounds. Faith hoarded is faith destroyed. True
faith in the love of God crosses over and erases any boundaries that separate
us from one another or from God. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Today’s church no longer seems as clear as it once did about
following in the way of Jesus and growing more merciful. I am not sure where we
would find Jesus eating today if he came for dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Last Sunday morning, in downtown Memphis, an 18 year old girl
(Myneishia Johnson) was walking on Second Street with two of her friends. A man
drove by and fired a gun at them. All three were struck by the bullets and
Myneishia was dead at the scene. She was due to graduate from Booker T
Washington High School this week. Her one-year old son accepted her diploma for
her yesterday. His grandmother carried him across the platform. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In reaction to the announcement that this infant would be
allowed to receive his mother’s diploma, a Memphis woman named Kelly Griffin
wrote to the principal of Booker T. Washington, Alisha Coleman Kriner, saying
that Myneishia’s son should not be allowed to receive his mother’s diploma. It
would be, in Ms Griffin’s judgement, a celebration of the sin of an unwed
mother who was out with friends instead of being home where she belonged. And
Ms Griffin went on to add that the father of the infant was not known and this
somehow added to her disgust that the child should receive his mother’s
diploma.. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The principal, Ms Coleman-Kriner, was horrified by the woman’s
self-righteousness and by all that Kelly Griffin assumed about this young girl.
The principal wrote back to Ms Griffin and set her straight about many things.
But some things cannot be set straight by an email. I fear that Ms Griffin,
wherever she is and whatever her situation, will need more than an email to
connect with the mercy in God’s love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I have come,” Jesus said, “to call not the righteous but
sinners.” That is what he said. And his words leave us, you and me, Ms Coleman-
Kriner, Ms Griffin and all of us, to determine where we are in that statement. Has
he come to call us or have we put ourselves outside the sound of his voice,
made ourselves too good, too clean, too educated, too wealthy to have him sit
with us at the table?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Interesting… The word “sinner” here in the Matthew text can be
translated to “outcast.” Jesus is accused of eating with tax-collectors and
outcasts. The people at the table where Jesus chose to sit and eat were not
morally corrupt or terminally broken people. They were people who had not pleased
the rule-keepers, the righteous, the powerful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They were called “sinners” because they were people who had
been cast out of the in-crowd and its power. And Jesus’ strategy is a simple
one. He eats with them. He goes where the culture has infused toxic shame and
he renders the people there wholly acceptable. No, more than that…wholly
favorable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gregory Boyle is a Catholic priest in Los Angeles who started
and is the executive director of a nonprofit called Homeboy Industries. He
loves and supports gang members in Los Angeles and he has been loving them for
many years now. He has a thousand stories to tell about the ways that being
loved, being called and being included have transformed human lives on the
streets and in the poor neighborhood of Boyle Heights. Gregory Boyle, this
Jesuit priest, fights despair. His book, <u>Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of
Boundless Compassion</u>, is as inspiring and touching as any book I have ever
read. I recommend it to you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Boyle says that we have come to believe that people grow into
being favorable with Jesus, with our creator, with perfect love. We have to
work at it, according to popular opinion. We must do things to please God. We
must sacrifice and atone for our waywardness in order to be loved and favored
by God. We must live a certain way and the externals of our life must
illustrate how much God loves us. It will be obvious that we are blessed: nice
car, nice clothes, good job, orderly life. No shame. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Boyle says it’s not like that. We don’t work our way into
God’s mercy and love. He points out: The only thing we know about Jesus growing
up years is that he grew in wisdom and favor with God. But, Boyle asks, did
Jesus work at becoming favorable to God or did he discover, as time went by, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">that he was in fact wholly favorable to God</b>
and had always been so—even as you and I are wholly favorable even now? Even as
we all are. Right now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This good guy priest, Gregory Boyle, serves the Delores
Mission, a church that has been vandalized, its walls spray-painted with the words:
Wet Back Church. It is a place where gang members gather by the bell tower,
homeless and undocumented men and women are fed, and folks arrive at all hours
for AA and NA meetings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One day a man drove up to Delores Mission in a fine car and he
got out. He had on very nice clothes. He talked with Boyle, nostalgic for his
early life in this neighborhood. He had been baptized in that building and had had
his first communion there. He looked around at the people gathered. “Tsk. Tsk.”
He said, “You know, this used to be a church.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">According to Boyle, it is now finally a church, a place where our
culture’s toxic shame is washed away, a place where lives are transformed by
love, a place where everyone has a chance to feel included. It’s a church, a
place where people are called to give and receive mercy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perfect love passes by us as we go about our daily business,
as we struggle to have faith and to sustain our hope. “Come with me,” Love
calls us. “Follow me. Have mercy.” And be the church in Memphis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-3848552685488492872016-05-15T09:34:00.002-05:002016-05-15T19:43:35.630-05:00In One Place<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shady Grove Presbyterian Church</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">May 15, 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Acts 2:1-21</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I grew up in Gainesville, Florida. We lived right downtown,
next door to First Church of the Nazarene, where my daddy was the preacher.
Church was all I knew in my early years. The year that I was four, I was left
alone and lonely. My brother, Stanley, who is one year older than I am, started
kindergarten that year. My two older brothers, Kendall and Dale, were busy with
school, band, sports and girls. My mother was the church administrator and pianist.
My father was always busy in his study, visiting church members or attending
meetings. I was left to entertain myself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I spent a lot of time sitting on the front steps of our house,
watching people park their cars and then walk down First Avenue to work. I knew everybody who
worked downtown: Mr. Smith, who owned Smith’s Gulf Station, went to our church.
Red, who worked at Kilgore’s Feed and Seed, was my pal. Mr. Johnson, who owned
Johnson’s Home Hardware, was tall and handsome. I had a big crush on him. But
they were busy, working. They had little time for me. I sat on the front steps
and watched the world go by. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember the moment clearly when I first noticed the
tin-roof shanties across the empty field. There were six of them. Once I
noticed them, I couldn’t help wondering why I had never noticed them before.
Straight across a weed-covered field, where houses had been torn down, there
were six frame shacks in a row and, the most exciting thing, there were
children playing all around them! I stood up to see more clearly. Children were
running, chasing each other, squealing and laughing with delight. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I ran inside and found my mother at the typewriter. “Mama!
Mama! Look! There are children playing over there! Can I go over there and
play?!” She was busy and didn’t want to be bothered. I had to pull on her arm
for a while. Finally she sighed heavily and stood to look outside. Her eye
followed my eager pointing. Then she frowned and shook her head. “Oh, no!” She
sat down and started typing again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Mama! Why not?!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because!” She was annoyed. “It would just cause trouble. Now
go on outside and stop bothering me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So I went over to the church and found my father in his study.
“Daddy! Can I go across the street and play with those kids over there?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What kids?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Over there. Across the field.” He stood and looked out the
window. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why not?!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Those children are negroes and you can’t play with them.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Why not?!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because they have their own friends to play with. That’s
why.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Their own friends?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“That’s right. Negro friends.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Do they go to school with Kendall and Dale?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No. They have their own school.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Well, why, if they live right there, across the street, why
don’t they come over here to church with us?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Because they have their own church, just like they have their
own friends and school.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And so I went back to sit on the front steps, all alone,
wondering about this division, this separation, this difference between us and
them. A year later, when I learned to read I would read the signs downtown: </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>Colored Only</em> and <em>Whites Only</em> on the water fountains. <em>Colored Entrance </em>at the
back of the dime store. The signs were there and clear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The church didn’t have any printed signs. It didn’t need them.
The signs were everywhere: who was in and who was not. Depending on race, the
language a person spoke, the kind of dress they wore, the level of education.
All of it kept us separated and divided into our many places of worship. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And this week, the United Methodist General Conference met for
its quadrennial gathering and voted once more to separate and divide people.
Those who are gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender are not to be ordained or
included in the same way that heterosexual people are to be included in their
way of doing and being church.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But how has it happened and what does it mean that the church has
become a place that keeps people apart, assures that some people never get to
meet, know and share life with others? Some people stay lonely and isolated on
their front steps forever. Never knowing that God’s love is theirs. The Holy
Spirit came to include them in the one place where love reigns for all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What does it mean to be a church? Is it a building we claim,
maintain and visit once or twice a week? Is it a place with an open door and
signs of welcome for only a few or for all people? How do we live now as church
people? I’ve spent my life asking these questions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Today is Pentecost Sunday. I have worn a red dress today
because the color of Pentecost is red. Red with passion. On Pentecost Sunday we
remember when the Holy Spirit came upon the followers of The Way. The Spirit
came like a mighty rushing wind; flames of fire stood over the heads of
believers and they had an experience of being able to speak in a variety of
languages so that people from every nation who were present that day could hear
and understand what the believers were saying. The "church" began to
broaden that day, to widen its scope and include people of varying backgrounds,
races and nationalities. The Holy Spirit was given to Christians in order to
broaden our understanding of God's love for all people.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was seven weeks after the resurrection. On that Pentecost
Day, there were about 125 people gathered together with the disciples. There
were people who had met Jesus, followed in his path and there were people who
had heard about Jesus from those who had known him. All of them were finding
their lives transformed by the stories, and the love that Jesus had shared. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Christianity is a love story. It is that simple and that
broad. Pentecost happened to broaden the love, widen the spread of God’s
promises for all creation. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Christianity has succeeded because it transformed the lives of
people. It has brought us together and allowed us to discover meaning in the
days between our birth and our death. Christianity has given us hope. The Holy
Spirit has come to live in us and among us to make it clear that hope exists
for all people, to make it possible for us to share hope with all people. The
church is called and equipped to live differently than the culture around us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the first five centuries of the Christian faith, people understood
that following in The Way of Jesus was to challenge the status quo. Believers
infuriated the defenders of ancient Roman religions, who insisted that
Christianity was an immoral sect with secretive rites and rituals that
undermined the family values of that culture. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Way was based on Jesus teaching recorded in the Gospel of
Mark. Someone asked Jesus, “Which commandment is the first of all?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And Jesus replied with the Great Commandment: “You shall love
the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all
your mind and with all your strength. The second is this, you shall love your
neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.” Christianity
is a love story. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Holy Spirit came upon us as a mighty wind, flames of fire
and the capacity to communicate with each other and to be understood in a
variety of languages. Christianity connects us to each other. The church
belongs to a kind of love that brings us all together in one place and for one
purpose: to be connected and transformed by love’s presence and power. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That first Pentecost Sunday brought changes. And people then,
just like people today, were uncomfortable with change. Changing our
understanding of who we are and how we connect with each other is challenging. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shady Grove has its own challenges as you live out your love
story together. The world is changing around you so quickly. It’s hard for all
of us to keep up anymore. The ground seems to shift under our feet as we learn
about new threats, new enemies and new challenges every day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And here in this place, you have recently merged two
congregations, two traditions, two sets of people. You are grieving the loss of
your long time and beloved pastor. The winds of change are blowing you about.
Blowing away the dust and awakening your passion to follow in The Way, to be
the best love story this congregation can be together and in one place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s the birthday of the church, a day when we recognize the
coming of the Holy Spirit to broaden our understanding of God’s love for all
people—all people in this place, in this city, in our nation, in all creation.
May Shady Grove always be a place where people feel the passion of the Holy
Spirit’s longing to share hospitality, to make all people welcome and included
in the particular love story in this one place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-38937763700725492812016-05-08T14:09:00.006-05:002016-05-08T14:10:29.298-05:00Chains Unfastened<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Preac</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">hed at Shady Grove Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">May 8, 2016 (Mother’s Day)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Acts 16:16-34</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m Hannah, the slave girl you heard about in the scripture
reading today. I used to be a slave girl. I used to be a lot of things that I
am no longer. I thought you might like to know my story. I want to tell you
what it took to save me and set me free.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You’ve been told that I was following after Paul and Silas,
shouting as they walked along the street. “These men are slaves of the most
high God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation!” I knew who they were as soon
as I saw them passing by. I’ve always had a gift, the power to see truth, to
look at people and see through them, through whatever masks they put on or
whatever pretense they adopt. I can see the center where their spirit lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And that’s what got me thrown out of the house—even as a small
child. My father was unhappy with my boldness to speak, my gift made him feel
exposed, threatened by me. He said I had a wild look in my eye, a demon in my
spirit. So he put me out on the street. My mother sneaked a blanket and some
food to me on that first night. But after that, she was afraid to challenge my
father and his awful anger. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Lucky for me, I can sing. I started standing in the market
place and singing, long, low laments, deep sounds of sorrow and pain. People
threw coins in my basket. They recognized their own suffering in the sound of
my songs. People in the marketplace began to come to me for my songs and for my
ability to see into their souls. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“What do you see in my future?” they asked and I told them.
Some days there was a long line, people waiting to have a moment with me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlucky for me, the sound of my voice attracted two men who
had no scruples but a love for profit. One night as I was sleeping on a side
street, they chained me, beat me and claimed me as their slave. They could do
that. There was no law against it, you know. Or maybe you don’t know that in my
day and in my culture an unclaimed woman could be any man’s property. Any one’s
slave. I was forced to tell fortunes during the day and the men pocketed the
high price they charged for my gift. They chained me to a post every night
while their dogs were free to roam. I sang myself to sleep at night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Always the unscrupulous men were guarding me, making sure
whatever I did was of benefit to them. They watched for crowds, dragging me to
places where people were congregated and that’s how I came to be in the street
when Paul and Silas came along. They were the kind of men who drew a crowd. I
could see they had great power, they also had a gift. They told stories about a
man who was love, nothing but love for people, all people. I heard what they
had to say and I could see clear through it, down to the truth of what they had
to say. It was crystal clear. Those men were telling us about something that
could make a difference.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Something more had come into the world and they knew how to
get in touch with that something more. I couldn’t help but shout! Over and over
again! It was that important! I looked around at the crowd of people following
those men and I could see how they suffered, how they were hungry for something
more and I wanted them to know that something more was being offered! I kept it
up for days. The men who owned me didn’t mind since I was drawing attention to
myself and getting business for them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But on the third day, Paul turned around and called out to me.
“I order you in the name of Jesus Christ, to come out of her!” He was annoyed.
His face was red and furious as he hollered. He looked and sounded just like my
father. I felt crushed. I stopped hollering. I stopped seeing into the depths
of him or anyone. That angry face robbed my spirit of something alive. I had
hoped for something more, the something more that Paul and Silas were talking
about. Paul’s anger chilled me to the bone. I just wanted to go somewhere and
hide.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But the men who owned me weren’t about to let me hide. They
hollered at me too. They insisted that I tell the fortunes of customers they
brought to me. But I could not. And so they beat me, they beat me so badly I
thought I might bleed to death. I didn’t die and when the men were convinced I
could no longer tell fortunes, they put me to work as a prostitute, continuing
to collect money for the work that I did. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I heard the men talking. They had accused the men, Paul and
Silas, of robbing them when Paul had ordered me to be silent. It was hard for
me to think of anything about me as belonging to me. The men took even the few
coins people threw into my basket when I sang, low and mournful beside the
road. What was left of my voice seemed to belong to them, not me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I suppose I would still be working as a prostitute. I would
still be under the control of those men if it had not been for the jailer’s
wife. Sarah. Everybody should know Sarah. She’s thoughtful, smart, kind. And
brave too. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Turns out Paul and Silas were beaten and they were thrown into
jail for the losses my owners suffered. Sarah told me all about it. That
“something more” those men have, that story about a man named Jesus who brought
perfect and powerful love into their lives…they were singing hymns about all of
that, praising God. The power of it all brought on an earthquake and unfastened
their chains! Their chains came unfastened and they were free! The chains of
all the prisoners in that jail were unfastened! Singing set them free! Wow!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul and Silas went home with the jailer. Sarah cooked for
them, a big feast. And when they all sat down to eat, when everyone was talking
about all that had happened, Sarah got to thinking about me. Her curiosity was
awakened. She has two daughters of her own. Sarah wondered what had happened to
that slave girl and she wondered where the girl’s home was, where her mother
might be.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It took a few weeks. Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about me and
worrying, the way mothers do, you know? And so she came to find me. I must have
looked a mess, living like I was and being so mistreated. I was too beat up to
work when she found me chained and lying by a trash heap. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But Sarah walked up to me and smiled. Smiled at me as if I
were somebody special. She asked enough questions to be sure I was the one she
was looking for. And then she found the men who owned me and asked them how
much it would cost to purchase me. “What must I do to save her?” she asked. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’m not sure what it cost to redeem me but Sarah found out and
brought her husband back to pay whatever it cost to take me home with them. I
am no longer a slave. Sarah adopted me as one of her own, a member of their
family. And this is where I live now—washed, well fed and strong again. Gifted
too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s an entire community of us, a group of people who have
come to believe in the power of something more. We trust the love of Jesus, the
kind of love that lives and reigns in a mother like Sarah. Love that can save
us all, set us free, unfasten the chains that hold us down. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I can see truth. I can see deeply and I can sing again. Not
low songs of sadness but joyful songs of praise! I love to sing about the
goodness I see and feel in Sarah, in this community of faith and in the hope I
have that one day all of us, all people everywhere, will find their chains
unfastened.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-71240747994766279372016-01-17T08:14:00.004-06:002016-01-17T08:14:52.009-06:00Choosing Hope
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shady Grove Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">January 17, 2016</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Micah 6:7-8</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Luke 6:37-38<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is never a bad choice to be hopeful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">President Obama gave his State of the Union Address this week.
It was his final State of the Union Address. It was optimistic and
hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt both encouraged and
challenged by what he had to say. He said, “We should not fear the future but
rather, shape it.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Too many times I have allowed my own fears to shape me. When
that happens, I hide in the darkness where hope, optimism and encouragement are
hard to find. In that place, I have difficulty seeing the good in me and I can't imagine it in
others. When fear is in charge of my attitude and thoughts, I am shaped by it
rather than faithfully shaping a better way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I need to be reminded of how powerful fear can be. I need to
be invited to return to the light where hope is found, where hope can be
shared. I appreciated what our president had to say. There has been so much
fear in the air, on television, on the internet and in our conversations
lately. If our faith in the love of God is to mean anything at all, then now is
the time for us to put it to good use by speaking hope into the fear that
threatens to dominate our time, energy and relationships. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">On Friday morning I attended a District Issues Meeting with
Congressman Steve Cohen. There were about two hundred people there. Steve Cohen
and his staff listened respectfully and patiently as person after person took
the microphone and expressed their needs. Veterans felt underappreciated, their
care at the VA Hospital was not as effective or as efficient as they needed it
to be. Home health care workers told about working long hours and getting paid
$7.25 per hour without any benefits. People with physical challenges told about
their need for access to public transportation. Some people told about
discrimination in their work places, injustice based on gender, race and age.
One woman told about a friend, a senior citizen, being exploited by scammers.
One man, speaking through a translator, told about families being torn apart by
deportation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It went on for over two hours. People shared their narratives
and named their needs. It could have been discouraging. It might have left us
feeling bleak. But it didn’t. We were not discouraged because somebody
listened. Steve Cohen and his staff paid attention to what was said; they took
notes and names. They told each person which staff person would be responding
to their particular need.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If this is politics, I am for it. People need a place to share
their needs and somebody who will listen and respond with help and hope. If it
is a congressman, then thank God for congressmen! Being listened to is being
loved. Listening to others is just, kind and humble. It is the way to create
hope.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Last evening I went to Bridges for their second annual Youth Ignite
Event. Young people imagine ways to make Memphis a better, safer, more hopeful place
to live. They acknowledge a problem, imagine a solution and develop ways to
make the solution a reality. Then they present the whole thing in five minutes
with a power- point and ask for the support of the community. It is enough to
ignite hope for the entire nation! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Those young people, high school students, were so clear about
what the problems are. They were focused on solutions and so happy to have reliable
solutions to offer to us. They were hopeful, pressed down and running over with
hopefulness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Eight presentations are selected for the event. Many students
have great ideas and they all have exhibits on site, but only eight of them get
to present for the gathered crowd. From those eight presentations a winner is
chosen, voted on by the young people there. And there were about three hundred
young people in the audience. The winner gets support to make their plan
happen. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Last night’s winner was a young man who has been in juvenile
detention. He told us that all the men in his family had spent time in jail. Men
get involved in crime. That was all he knew until the Shelby County Sheriff’s
Department introduced him to new people, new ways of looking at life, new hope.
He got a mentor and he has turned his life around. He presented the idea of
having peer mentors for every young man in juvenile detention, a program that
connects young men to new role models, a brighter future and new hope.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The presentations included a program to address and reduce sexual
harassment among students in our schools, community gardens to fight food deserts, sex
education to decrease teen pregnancy, theater programs to give students in
high- poverty schools an opportunity to shine, a support group for girls to
increase self-confidence, SAT and ACT prep assistance for students in high
poverty schools to give them a better chance at college entry. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Can you feel it? The hope generated by these
young people and their ideas? They trust the future to hold solutions. Their
own solutions. They are busy shaping the future, too busy to allow fear to hold
them back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is never a bad choice to be hopeful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day and many of us will be
involved in some kind of service, doing something to make the world around us a
better place, doing something to honor the life of Dr. King, doing something to
help make his dream a reality. If you don’t already have a plan, you can go to
the web site for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Volunteer Memphis</i> or
the web site for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Be the Dream</i> and
find a place and a way to share your own light tomorrow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In his “I Have a Dream” speech, Dr. King referred to the story
we call “The Good Samaritan.” You know the story. A man was going from
Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of thieves who beat him, robbed
him, and left him for dead beside the road. A priest walked by and passed by on
the other side of the road. Then a Levite went by and saw the man lying beside
the road. The Levite walked on. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But a Samaritan was traveling on that road and he went over to
the wounded man. The Samaritan was moved with pity. He bandaged the man’s
wounds, gave him water, took the man to an inn and cared for him there. The
next day he gave money to the inn keeper, covering the expenses of the room for
the next day. And he promised to cover whatever cost was incurred by the man’s
recovery. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Dr. King points out, in his Dream Speech, that we do not know
why the priest and the Levite did nothing to help the wounded man. Jesus didn’t
offer that in the telling of this story. We only know they did not help. Dr.
King suggests that the priest and the Levite might have been asking themselves
this question: “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” Maybe the
thieves were not gone. Maybe it was a very dangerous thing to stop and take
time to help the victim. Dr. King says that the road between Jerusalem and
Jericho is a rocky and twisted road, isolated… a good place for thieves to
attack and rob a traveler. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We also do not know, Jesus does not tell us why, the Samaritan
chose to stop and to go toward the wounded man, to look at him and invest in
his recovery. Dr. King suggests that the Samaritan might have been asking
himself this question: “If I do NOT stop to help this man, what will happen to
me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Indeed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Dr. King urged us then and I urge us today: “Let us develop a
kind of dangerous unselfishness.” It is the only way to win a victory over our
communal fears. It is the way to increase hope in our nation, in our city, in
our homes, in our lives. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Howard Zinn, the historian writes: “To be hopeful in bad times
is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a
history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage and
kindness.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is never a bad choice to be hopeful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-29740759787146371842015-12-27T08:57:00.000-06:002015-12-27T08:57:41.737-06:00Making Room For Love
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
Preached at Church of the River/First Unitarian Church</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
December 27, 2015</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
Psalm 91</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
Contemporary Reading:</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“…The first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together.
If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it
comes find us doing sensible and human things - praying, working, teaching,
reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to
our friends over a pint and a game of darts - not huddled together like
frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe
can do that) but they need not dominate our minds." C S Lewis, “On Living
in an Atomic Age”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Sermon:</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A few years ago when the controversy surrounding the Nathan
Bedford Forrest statue began, Anna and I were driving down Union Avenue and we saw a
sign posted in front of the statue. It was big, bright and colorful. It read:
“Please, don’t feed the fears.” I got out of the car and took a picture of the
sign. I’ve used that picture repeatedly in my work with students at Memphis
College of Art. The students need to know and be reminded that it is their
fears that block their learning, their growth and their creativity. I need to
be reminded that it is my fears that keep me from being fully alive. All of us
need to realize that our fears close the door, at least in part, on our
capacity to love and to be loved. Fear is only useful to us when there is real
danger, a threat to our well-being and survival. Too many times and in too many
ways I have fed my fears. You probably see it in yourself. And that is where
the hope lies. In our ability to honestly reflect on our fears and how they can
stifle our creativity and our capacity to love. Feeding our own fears not only
robs us, it robs the world around us of all that we might contribute if we were
not caught up in a cloud of fear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I want to talk about fear today because I think fear is on our
minds. Donald Trump is building his political campaign on fear and feeding it.
The media depends on our fear and shovels fuel into its fire. Advertising
profits from our fear of getting fat, growing old and being rejected. I do my
best to keep my guard up against fear. You probably do the same. It is a matter
of our emotional health. Yet, I must confess that I was feeling a shower of
fear when I went downtown on December 5<sup>th</sup> to participate in the St
Jude Marathon. Following the San Bernadino shootings and the terrorist attack
in Paris, the St Jude event with 21,000 people at the start line, seemed like a
perfect place for something awful to happen. And I have been fearful this
holiday season because so many neighbors and friends have had their homes
burglarized. I confess that fear gets to me sometimes. I don’t want to act as
if nothing bad could ever happen to me and my family. There’s every reason for
us to be aware of our surroundings and the possibilities. But on the other hand,
I don’t want to miss the joy of life simply because I am consumed by fear. I
imagine you’re with me on this. It’s a common theme in our lives these days. I
think we need to start talking about fear and then finding ways to support each
other’s faith in what is good. Learning to trust what is good and eternal is
community work. We need each other in order to live faithfully. Any of us can
live fearfully all alone. Living faithfully in love is done with others or not at all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In order to love more and live in faith, we have to first move
fear out of the way. We have to move our fears out and then replace them with
love. It begins with courage, the courage to acknowledge that fear is taking up
too much room in our soul. “We are not human beings having a spiritual
experience,” Teilhard de Chardin said, “but we are spiritual beings having a
human experience.” Each one of us is a reflection of God‘s divine spirit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were created by love, brought to this life
by love and given the opportunity to help bring creation to its completion with
love. We are not helpless victims. We are part of the fiber of God’s purpose in
the creation story. Realizing that and affirming it among our friends and
family can move the watery fear out of our circulatory system and replace it with the
red blood cells of resolve to love this life fiercely. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If you have been to Caritas Village in the Binghampton neighborhood,
it is likely that you have had the good fortune to eat some of Ibby’s soup.
Ibby came to the United States from Sudan several years ago. She and her family
arrived in Memphis as strangers in a foreign land. They settled into their
house in Binghampton and Ibby missed her community. In Sudan she had lived with
the door open. Neighbors knew each other; they came and went freely from each
other’s homes. Children were cared for by other women in the neighborhood. Neighbors
ate together. Shopping and laundry were not done in isolation. The ordinary
things of daily life were community experiences. Missing those experiences, Ibby
and her husband began to make connections here in Memphis. He drove the
neighborhood children to school and saw to it they got there safely. She
started cooking at Caritas Village. They built relationships. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One night, Ibby’s husband had a stroke. She called 911 and the
paramedics came. There was chaos and then they were at the hospital. When the
sun came up and her husband was stabilized, Ibby took a taxi home to shower and
change clothes. She saw that her front door was wide open. “Oh,” she thought,
“how could I have been so careless?!” She imagined that everything they owned
would be gone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But when Ibby walked through that open door, she found
everything she owned in its place and she found neighbors, six of them, seated
in her living room. “We saw the front door was open and we knew something was
wrong. So we just came to wait and see if you need help.” Those six neighbors
saw to it that Ibby got rides back and forth to the hospital until her husband
came home. They ate with Ibby so she would not feel alone. And while her
husband was recovering, the neighbors took turns driving the neighborhood
children to school, seeing to it they got there safely. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I see Ibby as an example of moving fear out of the way so love
can replace it. She came to this country from far, far away. She could have
allowed fear to overwhelm her. She could have closed herself off emotionally,
just longing for what she had known back home. And think how much her neighbors
would have missed, if she had done that! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A few years ago I took a mission trip to Tijuana. I was struck
by the poverty there, unlike what I think of as poverty here in Memphis. I went
into the home of a family who lived in a house built with materials scavenged
from a dump in the United States. The house was constructed with three garage
doors leaned against each other. They had a dirt floor. Pictures of Jesus hung
on the wall and colorful flowers were in jars around the room. The front door
was a bright red blanket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Women of the Colectivo hosted us for a day. They are
ordinary women living with extraordinary courage and love. They work in maquiladoras,
factories owned by US companies. Tijuana is the television-making capital of
the world. If you own a television, it is very likely that it was put together
by poor women in Tijuana. They work long hours for very little pay. There is no
security for them. They tell of going to work in the morning, only to find that
the factory has closed down and moved to India or someplace where labor can be
hired for less money.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So one day, one of the poor women in Tijuana, Maria, decided
to stand up for herself and her family. After her factory closed down and moved
away overnight, she wrote to the factory owners and insisted on being given
severance pay. It is likely that her first letter was thrown in the trash if it
was opened and read at all. Maria wrote again and again. Then a group of
environmental justice activists in San Diego learned about Maria and her
requests for severance pay. They knew about the toxic waste that the factory
had spewed into the air and into the water in Tijuana. They knew about the
toxic materials the factory left behind. They knew about the high number of
birth defects in babies born to women working in the maquiladoras.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The San Diego activists chose to get to know Maria and her
need for justice. They recruited others to help her in her fight for severance
pay. She got what she asked for. And she got an office where she and twelve
other women work tirelessly to educate mothers and their children about their
rights and how to take care of the land and its people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We gathered in their office and we were fed. The women served
us tostados and fruit punch. I was moved to tears by their generosity as they
put food in front of us. They were not afraid of going hungry. They were not
worried about sharing their limited resources. They were happy to connect with
us and to tell us their story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I wanted to know, since the living conditions are so dreadful
and dangerous in Tijuana, why the women stay. “Why don’t you leave Tijuana?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Maria responded to my question and Carlos translated. “I do
not stay in Tijuana for myself. I stay in Tijuana and I work for justice
because the earth depends on me. She is my mother. She gives me life and
because of the earth’s goodness, I was able to give life to my children. We
work together: me, the air, the water, the soil. Together we make life. The
earth is being abused by those who love personal profit more than they love
life itself. I am here and I will stay here in Tijuana because I love life and
I want justice.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I truly admire this kind of love, the kind of love so strong
and so fierce that it leaves no room for fear. Think how much the rest of us
would lose if there were not people around us who love so much that their fear
cannot find a place to stay. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Moving fear out of love’s way doesn’t require extraordinary
heroics. It does require an investment in faith. Not just on Sunday and not
just when everything is in order and running smoothly. Moving fear out and
making room for love requires the willingness to connect with others, to let go of control and to let
others know that we need help. It requires humility.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve been thinking lately that one of our barriers to being truly
in love with life is our privilege and convenience. We’ve grown attached to our
stuff and keeping it safe. So attached to material things that we think keeping
our stuff safe is the same as nurturing our soul and the love in our life. We
have made keeping up with our car, homes, computers and cell phones the center
of our soul. And we’re withering because of it. We have become easy targets for
the fear-mongers because of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Do something different this week. Have lunch with a stranger
and listen to their story. See how much your soul is nourished by that simple
act. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go without one meal and spend that
hour in prayer and reflection. Take a day off from the internet, email and
television and, instead, listen for God’s call in your life. Find a way to
empower someone in our city who has been marginalized and find the flood of love
that fills your soul. Ask someone for help. Tell them you need help letting go
of your fears and let them be your teacher. We need each other as we become all
that God hoped we would be. Leave the door open so fear can exit and love can
find a way in to help you.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-43460082347404426112015-11-30T16:01:00.000-06:002015-12-01T11:35:33.938-06:00Rocking Chair Marathon<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was the summer of 1972, in Jackson, Tennessee. I was part
of the pizza-making team at Village Inn Pizza Parlor. Casey Jones Museum &
Old Country Store (then located on the corner of Airways Boulevard and the Hwy
45 Bypass) invited all the businesses in town to send a representative to their
store for a Rocking Chair Marathon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a big deal and people all over town
were talking about it. The marathon winner would take home big prizes like a
new washer and dryer from a local appliance store. The winning business would
get plenty of free advertising for having an employee who could sit and rock
for longer than anyone else in Jackson. I volunteered to represent our team.
Mr. Kilburn, the store’s owner, was as enthusiastic as I was. I wanted to win
that washer-dryer. I was tired of taking baskets of dirty clothes to the
laundromat. Mr. Kilburn wanted to sell more pizzas. We high-fived each other
and agreed to win this challenge!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There was carnival excitement on Saturday morning as the rocking
chairs were lined up, decorated and put into motion by happy competitors. I was
confident in my paisley halter-top and cut-off blue jeans. A baby sat in a tiny
rocker in front of me. She was rocking for an infant apparel business. An elderly
woman rocked beside me, representing the Senior Centers in town. Helium
balloons floated over our heads. Cotton candy and corn dogs were consumed by
the crowds as they walked along, looking at us in our rocking chairs. High
school bands marched by, helping us all to rock with a shared beat. Back and
forth. Back and forth. Grinning and waving. “Make us proud!” Mr. Kilburn said
as he fastened the Village Inn logo to the back of my chair. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The sun went down and the crowd went home. As the air grew
cooler, I realized I was sunburned from the top of my head to the top of my
bare feet. I kept rocking. There were volunteers stationed around the lot,
making sure the chairs kept moving. To stop rocking was to be disqualified. We
all had food and drink at our sides, gifts left by our friends and supporters. Porta-potties
were there for our convenience and we were given timed breaks to use them. I
watched as my competitors diminished in number. The stillness of the long, dark
hours made staying awake too much of a challenge. Those who snored attracted
the attention of the volunteers, who kindly informed the sleeping beauties that
they were out of the marathon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The sun came up and beamed brightly on my burned skin. Mr.
Kilburn came by and asked me, “What can I bring you for breakfast?” I wanted
donuts and coffee. He raced off to get it. I was glad to be surrounded by
music, laughter and onlookers as people stopped by on their way to church and
after Sunday dinner. We rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth. Just before the
sun went down that evening, I stood to take a bathroom break and I had no idea
which way to go. A volunteer took me by the hand and led me to the door of the
porta-potty. I needed his help, again, when I returned to my rocking chair. The
disorientation was unnerving but I was rocking. I was going to win that
washer-dryer and I was going to make Mr. Kilburn feel proud! I stopped going to
the porta-potty and just peed my pants after that. I smelled badly, but I kept
rocking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The number of competitors was down to twelve as darkness settled in on Sunday night. The Old Country Store staff had not expected the marathon to extend
into the work week. Cub Scouts were enlisted to help. The little boys had
rulers and they were using them to measure the distance of our rocking back and
forth. We had to rock six inches in order to remain in the marathon. At
about 3:00 on Monday morning, I was still rocking when I looked over my
shoulder and saw what appeared to be an evil dwarf coming toward me, aiming
a pistol at my head. I flung my arm out and swatted hard at the gun. The Cub
Scout’s ruler went flying through the air and I came to my senses briefly,
enough to mutter a garbled apology to the boy who was cautiously reaching for
his blue and gold cap at my feet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Just before Mr. Kilburn came by and asked what I wanted for
breakfast, I got it all figured out. This was a conspiracy born from an
alliance between Rev. Billy Graham and President Nixon. Those men were
passengers in the helicopter that kept circling overhead and they were watching
us, taking pictures and laughing about how foolish we were. This marathon was
their idea! They were trying to prove, for some reason, that people in Jackson,
Tennessee were utter fools. We would sit and rock night and day, through sun
and rain, just to win some household appliances! Once I figured that out, I was
wide awake and energized by my fury! Mr. Kilburn seemed unaware of what was
going on as he cheerily ran to my side and took my breakfast order. I decided
he had lived in Jackson, Tennessee for far too long!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That's when my mind left me. I don't know where it went exactly, maybe chasing after Mr. Kilburn and my breakfast order. I stood up. I raised my arms up over my head and started
walking. “Where are you going?” One of my co-workers was there by my side.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m going to find a microphone so I can tell everybody what’s
going on here!” I shouted. “We are making fools out of ourselves! This is a bad
joke on all of us!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the pizza makers got me into a car and took me home. A
girl friend ran the tub full of hot water so I could sit and soak before I got
into bed. A neighbor woman came to the door and hollered through the screen,
“Was Elaine the winner in the rocking chair marathon?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“No, she was not!" I sat up in the tub and yelled from the bathroom. "And, whatever you do, don’t vote Republican in the next election!”
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then I slept. I slept for sixteen hours and when I woke up, I
read in the Jackson Sun about the marathon winner. She worked for a bank and
she rocked until 7:00 on Tuesday morning. I don’t remember her name. I imagine she is still enjoying that washer-dryer and I suspect there are autographed pictures of Billy Graham and Richard Nixon hanging on the wall above them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mr. Kilburn was happy that Village Inn had been represented. I
was happy that my mind went back to normal, back to what "normal" is for me. I had enough sense to find my way to the laundromat with my baskets of
dirty clothes. I didn't win the marathon but I learned to respect the power of sun-block , hydration and a good night's sleep.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-81795337313010458192015-11-26T11:29:00.002-06:002015-11-26T11:45:32.916-06:00Marriage Equality<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">November 26, 2015</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is Thanksgiving morning. A cloudy sky and a cool breeze
contribute to the ambience of this holiday that is set aside for gratitude. I
look at the gold band on my ring finger and I am touched by how deeply that
ring has affected me. The wedding ceremony, when Anna made promises and placed
it on my finger, was so much more than what I had expected or imagined it would
be. My gratitude for the right to marry and for the experience of being married
is as shiny and precious as the gold of this ring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We invited our friend, Dr. Mary Lin Hudson, to officiate our
wedding. She teaches with me at the seminary. Having Mary Lin to stand before
us allowed a mix of the authority of the state as well as the intimacy of our friendship.
She shared a lovely homily, capturing the essence of who we are as individuals
and as a couple. After sixteen years of living together, we have developed an
identity as a successful couple. Our friends laughed with us as Mary Lin
referred to us as “Martha and Mary,” one in the kitchen working while the other
entertains guests in the living room. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We exchanged vows and my emotions overwhelmed me, rendering my
voice down to little more than a squeak. Anna shed tears as she spoke her vows.
I sobbed. Upon reflection, I realize that speaking those vows, making promises for
the rest of our lives, lifted up our mortality and highlighted our deep need
for trust, truth and faithfulness. My great fear in life is abandonment. My
life story has given me reason to believe that the best and most beloved
relationships can be yanked away without a word of warning. And so I offered my
vows, and with the words came sobs from my childhood, begging Anna to stay with
me forever. The wedding gave me the opportunity to express those fears and simultaneously
to have those fears relieved. This public, legal ceremony was full of grace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The most challenging aspect of planning our wedding was the
question of whom to invite. Weddings cost money and we could not afford to
invite everybody. The caterer needed a head count and every head costs a dollar
amount. We wanted to be generous and we wanted our guests to be wined, dined
and comfortable. We chose Stonewall Hall as our venue because it is lovely and
in our neighborhood. It is a big room but not big enough to hold every one of
our friends and their families. So we had to make choices on our invitation
list. It was not easy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Our friends entered the door with bright smiles as they
arrived on a bitterly cold day with mist in the air. Three beautiful
five-year-old girls arrived and took seriously their duty to pass out little
gifts to each guest. Our friend, Sharon, orchestrated the making of “Love
Links,” my idea to connect our guests to each other and to us as part of the
ceremony. My daughter, Jennifer, brought recorded music for gathering and dancing.
A string trio set up their instruments, adding to the elegance in the space. A
photographer scurried about, looking for adequate light and clicking shots here
and there. The coconut cake, lovingly baked by Carrie, took its rightful place on a platform and it looked
spectacular! Joy was everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I had expected the wedding to be fun. I was not aware of how
palpable the love of our friends would be as Anna and I stood face to face and
exchanged our vows. I have officiated many weddings. I have worked with couples
to plan how the ceremony will be ordered and what words will be said. But it is
only in being the bride that I felt the communal significance of a wedding. The
love of our friends surrounded us. Anna and I both felt lifted up by that love
and we also felt how our wedding day was a source of strength and hope for our
guests. Together, we were an inspired congregation, longing for the best in all
of our relationships, in all of our shared struggles and victories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In truth, the Holy Spirit was present and gave us a rich and
mystical blessing. I have never been happier and I have never felt so free. The
secret of a good life is learning how to accept the love that created us and
brought us here. I have had trouble believing that anyone can really love me. I
have spent many hours in the offices of various therapists as I have talked on
and on about how to trust that I am indeed loveable. The strong wind of the
Spirit blew through Stonewall Hall and carried away the detritus of that scar
tissue. The wedding was a sacred thing, a chance for God’s love to come to
earth and touch all of us at once. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A few weeks ago I was invited to speak to the people at First
Baptist Church here in Memphis and to tell them the story of how I came to be
both a Christian and a woman-loving-woman. I sat on the platform with Broderick
Greer, an Episcopal priest and a man who loves men. We told our life stories
and then we took questions from the congregation. One man asked me, “Why do you
want to marry? Why do you need that right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I laughed and told him that Anna wondered the same thing.
Being married was my idea and I had to talk a good talk in my effort to
convince my partner that getting married would be in both our best interests. Sitting
in the Baptist Church, I answered, “I want to be married because we CAN be
married. People have struggled long and hard to win this legal battle and I
want to honor their work by taking advantage of SCOTUS’ ruling.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now that the wedding is over, the ring is on my finger and our
license has been signed and returned to the office of the Shelby County Court
Clerk, my answer is much wider and fuller. I realize how secure I feel, now
that we are married. If anything happens to either Anna or me, if an accident
occurs or there is some sort of disaster, there will be no confusion about whom to
contact as our next of kin. We are not roommates, homeowners or friends. We are
married. She is my wife. I am her wife. It is recorded in legal documents and
that means more to me now than I knew it would mean to me then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There is something about being married that touches deeply our
personal exchanges. I feel free now to hold the hand of my wife in public and
to kiss her on the lips when we stand together in our driveway. It is no
secret. There is no shame. We are a happily married couple, living the American
dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-38546211549620549302015-11-01T07:59:00.000-06:002015-11-01T07:59:12.680-06:00Not Far
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Buntyn Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">November 1, 2015</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Psalm 146</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mark 12:28-34</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">One day this week I had a plan. I had a deadline looming and a
plan for getting my work done on time. It was raining. I took something up to
the attic, just putting something away, and I heard a drip, drip, drip. I
tried, for a split second, not to hear it. But it was real. I came downstairs
and found the number to call our roofers. They came over and went up in the
attic. They looked around and we put a container under the drip. They said they
would come back when the rain stopped.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Time was ticking away when I got a call from my credit card
company. They wanted to know if I was in Oregon and had I just charged $1334.00
at a place called Must Be. Anxiety was flowering full-bloom within me as I cut
my credit card into pieces and dropped it in the trash. What else could go wrong?!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That's when I noticed that none of my texts that I had sent out were
sent. Upon further investigation, I learned that my cell phone was no longer
able to send or receive texts. I took it to the A T & T store where I sat
at a table with a nice young woman who was not able to do a thing about my
phone not texting. She gave me a number to call for A T & T Technical
support. I called the number and talked with a nice young man for a little over
an hour. He was kind but not able to help me. By that time it was evening and I
had not accomplished anything on my work list. But I had grown a great garden
of anxiety. The sky seemed to be falling on my life! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Not for one minute do I think that this series of events is
exclusively my own. Not for one minute do I think that this series of events
tops your most distressing day this past week. What I do think is this: We all
know how easily we are disturbed, how quickly we can lose sight of our
priorities. If a day starts going smoothly and in order, it sometimes feels like
forty roaring thieves come charging in to steal my peace, to rob me of any
connection with God and my awareness of the goodness of life itself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Praising God gets left in the dust behind our well-rehearsed
worries. We know how to worry and complain. Praising, trusting and loving
God…Is that even something we need to do? We know how to value and trust the things of this world. But have we even put praising God on our to-do list?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I think it is something important for us to do. According to
the Psalmist, we are to praise God as long as we live; we are to sing songs of
praise our whole life long. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As a child, I thought that being Christian was defined by going
to church on Sunday. What we did or what we left undone on the other days of
the week were insignificant in terms of being identified as Christian. It was
all decided on that one day of the week when we got together with other
Christians, prayed, sang songs, and listened to a sermon. That was it. We were
in the club. As an adult I have grown to the place where I see that being
Christian is an everyday practice or it is not much at all. I live and breathe
Monday through Saturday, same as I do on Sunday. And I need to feel a real
connection to something greater than myself all week long. I need to know that
there is something more important than the roof over my head, the credit card
in my purse and the cell phone in my hand. I need to know how to trust that
"something more" and I need to learn how to love that "something more" …more than I
love anything else in my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">How do we learn how to love God more than anything else? It’s
a challenge. We don’t call God on the phone, meet God for dinner downtown and
then take in a movie with God, holding hands in the darkness and anticipating
intense intimacy later. No. We don’t interact with God in any way that
resembles the ways we interact with our earthly beloveds. Not really. Because
God is something more.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">God keeps faith in us. God executes justice for the oppressed,
provides food for the hungry, sets the prisoner free, opens the eyes of the
blind, lifts up those who are bowed down, loves the righteous, watches over
strangers and upholds the orphan and the widow. God is love and justice rolled
into one. God is more than anything we could ever be. God is more than anything
else we can know in this life. And that’s what makes it so challenging for us
to praise and love God all day long. God is beyond our comprehension and easily
set aside while we focus on that annoying driver ahead of us who is slowing us
down and keeping us from meeting our pals for a drink after work. We tend to
focus on anything and everything but God. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Helen Keller was both blind and deaf. She said, “The best and
most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be
felt with the heart.” A blind woman was able to see what is really beautiful
in this world, what is truly worthy of our praise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A few years ago I was talking with the warden out at our
county jail. We were reflecting on the problems of the world and the troubles related
to mass incarceration. Warden Coleman said, “I think we have raised up a
generation and taught them that what really matters in life are things. If you
have enough things, you are a success in life and it doesn’t matter how you get
your things. Just having them means you are a success.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s too easy for us to worship our possessions, our
conveniences, our security systems, investments and our privileges. We put our
trust in them. We are blinded by the temporary razzle-dazzle and unable to stay
connected to what is eternal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The chief priests, scribes and elders questioned the authority
that Jesus claimed. They were asking him questions, hoping to trick him into
exposing himself as a fraud. And then one man, a scribe, steps closer to Jesus,
obviously impressed by the responses that Jesus was giving to his antagonists. He
asks, “What is the most important commandment?” The scribe isn’t interested in
arguing. He sees that Jesus values something basic and is making connections
that could unite all human beings. Jesus confesses the oneness of God. There is
one God and we are called upon to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and
strength. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And what comes next? What would the second most important
commandment be? To love our neighbor as ourselves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The scribe received these responses from Jesus and he was
impressed, touched deeply. And so are we today. Like the scribe, we recognize
how improved our daily lives would be if we made loving and praising God our
top priority and if that was followed by loving our neighbors as much as we
love ourselves, our car, our privacy fence and our insurance policies. What if
our to-do list had only one item on it, LOVE, every day of the week?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Life would be different, of course. I urge you now NOT to feel
guilty if love has not been on the top of your list lately. I beg you not to
feel badly toward yourself, to blame yourself if you have been concentrating on
everything else other than love. Guilt and self-blame will only widen the gap
between you and the eternal love that God is faithfully extending to you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The scribe was impressed by Jesus and his answers, his
presence, his power, his love. That love reached the scribe and opened his
heart, his soul, mind and strength. The scribe became a man who could make love
a priority every day of the week—not because the scribe was so smart or
special. But because he spent time with the love that is eternal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You are not far from the Kingdom,” Jesus said
to him. And the scribe was moved; he became something more. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is the love of God that has the power to change us, to
teach us to praise and worship that which really matters in life. It is the
love of God that gives us eyes to see what is truly beautiful in this world. It
is the love of God that can unite us as one human family and set us free to
praise what is good and eternal in one hopeful voice together. We are not far
from the Kingdom of God any time we choose to put love on the top of our
priority list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-75420439680957288052015-10-06T07:38:00.001-05:002015-10-06T07:38:44.827-05:00Observing Sabbath
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">October 6, 2015</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">St Mary’s Episcopal School for Girls</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Memphis, TN</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have been invited here today to tell you about my recent
decision to observe a weekly Sabbath Day. For the last eight weeks, I have set
aside Wednesday as a day to be with God. It is a day for me to pray, and listen
for God’s responses, to be outside in the woods or down by the Mississippi
River, where nature can embrace me and reassure me that I am part of something
big and beautiful. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I do not make calls or text on my Sabbath Day. I do not read
emails or get involved in any way with the internet. I write in my journal, and
visit people: friends and family. I play with my dog and cat. I lie on the
couch and listen to music. I rest. I rest because I am free to do so. I am not
a slave forced to work beyond my human capacity. It is not God’s desire that I
be available to try and meet the needs of others 24-7. I am free and liberated
to enjoy my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the book of Genesis, the second chapter, we read: “God
finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all
the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it …”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Then in the book of Exodus, we read God’s commandments. “Remember
the Sabbath Day and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your
work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath Day to the Lord, your God…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was a child growing up in the 1950’s and 60’s, Sunday was
different, a day set apart from other days. Businesses were closed. If your car
ran out of gas on Sunday, it would be the next day before you could fill the
tank, unless you had an extra can of gas in your garage. Gas station owners
were not working. They were home with their families. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We did our shopping on Saturday. The grocery stories and
department stores were closed on Sunday. There was no internet then, and there
was no such thing as a computer with ads and invitations to spend money online.
Only a few families had televisions and those who had televisions did not watch
them on Sunday because there was very little programming on Sunday.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We went to church on Sunday morning and on Sunday evening. Sunday
was set apart, a different sort of day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Even though Sunday, back then, was different than the other
days of the week, our Sunday tradition was not necessarily a genuine Sabbath
observance. <strong>To observe the Sabbath Day
is to rest in our relationship with God and to intentionally let God do any
work that needs to be done. </strong>Our Orthodox friends know so much more about this practice than I do. Observing a Sabbath Day, for me, is a way to express my
trust in God. To really stop working, doing, being constantly available and buzzing
about for an entire day is to exercise my faith in God. It is as if I am
saying, “I am going to rest now, trusting that God is in control of my day, my
life, this world and all creation.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am sixty-three years old now and I have lived many years
without seriously considering observing a weekly Sabbath Day. I am a person of
faith. My relationship with God is important to me. I spend time each morning
in scripture reading and prayer. But it is new for me to choose to observe a
Sabbath Day. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This new practice began because I was sick this past spring. I
had severe fatigue and headaches that were a big problem for me. My doctor ran
lots of tests and nothing could be found to diagnose and treat what was causing
me to feel so badly. So I made some changes in my life and one of those changes
has been to observe a Sabbath Day. I am better. I believe I needed a weekly day
to live in faith that God could do whatever needs to be done while I rest. The
practice of Sabbath observance has been good for my body, my mind and my soul.
I feel restored and renewed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what I have learned: Observing Sabbath is not <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">for</b> God; it is something that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">benefits me</b>. I get to know God better
by giving a day to God. Knowing God better has opened my eyes to see and helped
my ears to hear that I am loved. I am free to believe that God wants only the
best for me. It is not God’s desire that I work, work, work, work. It’s not
necessary for any of us to remain on duty and working every day of the week.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Being busy all the time has kept me from seeing the natural
beauty of the world around me. Being always available to the phone and computer
has prevented me from recognizing how much I love my friends, family and pets. It
is so pleasant to turn off the technology and to sit on the couch and read a
good book just for the pleasure of reading and imagining. To observe the
Sabbath Day is to allow ourselves one of God’s best gifts, a chance to enjoy
being alive and being loved. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s not easy to set a day apart. It takes planning. I have to
tell my friends and family that I will not be available on Wednesday. (I
observe my Sabbath Day on Wednesday because I so often work on Sundays,
preaching and teaching.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to think
ahead and take care of matters before Wednesday gets here. It is a new habit
for me and I am learning how to make it fit into my life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have learned that I am hungry for silence and solitude. The
more I get to be alone with God, the more I want to be alone with God. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By observing a Sabbath Day, I have exposed myself to the
possibility of change. I can change myself, let go of anything false, any mask
I have felt I needed to wear in order to meet the world’s approval. God is the
one who created me, so I am just fine in God’s eye. It is refreshing to spend
time with the One who gave this life to me as a gift to enjoy. I don’t have to
defend myself or compare myself to others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">By putting my friendship with God first as a focus for one day
a week, I have become happier and more hopeful. I am less worried, not so
anxious. I am physically stronger. My soul is restored by being with God. It
costs me nothing. It is free because I am free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-24528298050889627642015-09-20T07:58:00.000-05:002015-09-20T09:25:25.440-05:00Getting in Line<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">First Presbyterian Church Memphis, TN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">September 20, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Psalm 1<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mark 9:30-37</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We’ve had long periods without much rain this summer and fall.
So I’ve had to water a group of hostas in my front yard to keep them alive. I
carry the watering jug from the back yard every other day or so and I give huge
gulps of water to the green leafy plants. The plants appreciate my concern and
my efforts, I am certain. But a colony of ants lives under the rocks and among
the roots of one of those hostas. When I water the plant, the ants come
scurrying up out of the ground by the thousands, maybe even by the millions,
carrying ant eggs as fast as they can go—running for dry ground. I used to
expect those ants to move, find a new place to set up their colony, to hatch
their eggs. But they seem intent on staying right where they are. I water. They
scurry. Happens over and over again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I wonder who those ants think I am and what reason they
imagine for this random flooding that happens to their home and family. I
wonder if they go to church on Sunday morning and talk about whose sin is
causing the colony to suffer so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We are not so different than the ants. There is so much we do
not know and cannot understand. One way to improve our lot in life is to
acknowledge our limitations, just admit what we do not know. I like to think
that I am different than the ants in that surely- by now- I would have tried
something new.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the floods kept
coming, surely I would find a new place to live, a new place to be me. I like
to think that. But I am deeply imbedded in this world and its ways. We get
stuck in our patterns, our biases and our perception of reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The first Psalm, this Psalm we have heard this morning, is an
introduction to all one hundred and fifty Psalms. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Those who do not follow the advice of the wicked nor take the path that
sinners tread or sit in the seat of scoffers will be like trees planted by the
water. Their leaves will not dry up or wither. They will be fruitful. And, in
all that they do, they will prosper. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We are tempted to find comfort in the simplicity of this
Psalm. Those who do right will be rewarded. Those people who do wrong will be
blown way, washed away, like chaff. Yet, you and I know faithful people, people
who have lived exemplary lives, kept the faith, and yet are not prospering in
the ways that we imagine prosperity. Just by reading the book of Job we can
dislodge the notion that being a good friend to God will serve as protection
from illness, grief and pain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">How do we get it right? Living faithfully and trying to
understand what God wants and needs from us is so complicated. I can see why so
many people give up. If we dare to ask questions, the answers are not always
clear or simple.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I was recently with a young woman, Andrea, who was doing her
best to figure out what it means to be faithful, to be a disciple of Jesus
Christ. She was going through some tough times; finances were the focus of her
struggle. The ends were not meeting; her income didn’t stretch all the way
through a long month of days and basic needs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Andrea attends a church regularly and she listens to preachers
on the radio. She was raised in a conservative and evangelistic congregation.
She was raised to trust preachers, to believe that they are set apart by being
specially anointed. Andrea was raised to believe and respect the words that
come from the preacher’s mouth. The radio preacher was fired up, passionate
about prosperity and how Jesus intends to give back more than what we, as
disciples, can give to him. “Give!” the voice on the radio insisted. “Give
everything you’ve got to this radio ministry. Give to help spread the Word of
God on this program! And be amazed by what God returns to you!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Andrea wrote a check to that minister and his radio program.
She gave her rent money for the month and she waited for God’s return. She was
evicted, lost her apartment. And she now lives with her parents, sleeps on
their couch in the den. And she is nervous about asking questions like, “What
does it mean to prosper in the Kingdom of God? What does it get a person to be
faithful, trusting and true?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In Mark’s gospel today we connect with Jesus and his disciples
in Galilee. Jesus wants privacy, a chance to be with the disciples in his inner
circle for some deep truth, difficult lessons. He tells them that he will be
betrayed into human hands, killed, buried and then he will rise from the dead and
return to life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Not one of the disciples asked a question. Not one of them is
recorded as saying, “But if you are the Messiah, aren’t you supposed to be a
super hero? Didn’t you come to save us, Lord? To set us free from Roman rule
and all forms of oppression?” No. They went on with what they were doing:
lining up at Starbucks to pay big bucks for a cup of coffee, or whatever it was
that the disciples did back then to distract themselves from the rough
realities of life around them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The disciples didn’t ask Jesus about this deep and painful
lesson he was teaching them because it did not fit into their cherished
narrative. They already knew the story: The Messiah would come and make things
better by knocking down the bad guys and eliminating suffering. I imagine they
hoped and planned to be on the front lines and on the front pages of the
newspapers when the world got turned upside down by Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We want to believe that life has order and meaning. We want to
know how to pass the course. “Uh, professor,” a hand goes up in the middle of
the classroom while the professor is standing up front lecturing. “Will that be
on the test?” That’s what we want to know. Will it benefit me to learn this
lesson? How will I be rewarded? Because if learning this lesson will not move
me closer to the front of the line, then I see no point in paying attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s so much in this world that we do not understand, far
too much that doesn’t work out the way we planned or the way we hoped it would.
I don’t know what benefit, if any, Andrea received from her generous gift to
the radio minister. But I am sure that the radio minister was glad to receive
her check, glad for her contribution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We understand the radio minister. I’ll be honest. It is easier
for me to understand the radio minister than it is for me to understand what on
earth made Andrea give away her rent money. I know what it is like to work to
earn a profit. I even know what it is like to take advantage of other people’s
weaknesses in order to increase my profit. For a while I worked as the RN in a weight-loss
clinic. I was the designated “medically supervised” part of that clinic and the
weight loss diets of our clients. It was my job to run EKG’s, record weekly
weights and to counsel clients about their progress. The more of our brand-name
products I sold to clients during those counseling sessions, the more profit I
made. So I did my best to convince men and women that they would look better,
be happier and lose weight faster if they purchased more of our products. Lettuce,
spinach and carrots from the grocery produce section just would not work the same
way. I went to work to make money and that was how the organization worked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe you have done things on the job that clearly benefited
the bottom line. If so, you can understand the radio minister. We might not
want to recognize him when we look at ourselves in the mirror, but we
understand him. It’s the way the world operates. To get to the front of the
line, we have to sell more, stand out, have our brand recognized around the
world and make more profit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s return to our text in the Gospel of Mark. We follow
Jesus and his disciples into Capernaum. Here, Jesus asks a question. ‘What were
you arguing about on the way here?” The disciples were reluctant to tell him
the answer. They were arguing about who was the greatest among them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We understand this. Competiveness runs through our veins right
beside the red blood cells. We want the best, the newest, the most. We want our
children to be at the top of the line in the best schools. We want to think we
have earned God’s favor and that we deserve all the conveniences and things we
own. In so many ways, you and I are up toward the front of the line—by the
world’s standards. We have power to make choices in our life. So many people
just wish they had a clean glass of water to drink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The best we can do is be brave enough to ask questions like:
What is it costing this nation to hang on to so much wealth while so much of
the world goes without food and clean water? What would Memphis gain if each of
the seven thousand churches adopted a person as they were released from the
county jail, really supported that person and their family until they got on
their feet? What rewards would our city gain if our churches united in a
singular, concentrated effort to erase racism and its cancerous toll on human
life here? Where would this congregation be in a year if you focused all your
prayers, time and talent on increasing the minimum wage to a living wage in Memphis?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We are called upon to sit down and consider what Jesus says to
his disciples about the line-up in the Kingdom of God. “Whoever wants to be
first must be last of all and servant of all.” What does it mean to be servant
of all?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I urge you never to underestimate the value of a good
question. Don’t be afraid to ask them. Maybe we could all agree to live with
this question in the coming week…What does it mean to be servant of all? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s so much mystery to God. God says to the prophet
Isaiah, “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than
your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Jesus knew how challenged his disciples were by the notion of
the last being first and the first being last, so he took a small child into
his lap as an illustration. A child. Open-minded. Curious. Needy. Creative. Trusting.
“Be like this,” Jesus said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am thinking about Andrea and that radio minister. It would
be so easy for us to scoff at the hypocrisy of that radio minister and to write
him off as a fraud. And Andrea. It would be just as easy for us to dismiss her
as foolish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But then I have to remind myself …there is something to be
learned from everyone and everything in the Kingdom. If we, as disciples of
Jesus, did more learning and less judging, we might be more help to God in
ushering in the Kingdom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<strong><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></strong></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-53515899747624874922015-09-13T08:43:00.000-05:002015-09-13T08:43:03.195-05:00Tongues and Ears
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">First Presbyterian Church/ Memphis, TN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">September 13, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Isaiah 50:4-9a<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">James 3:1-12<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I am a storyteller. People identify me that way and I am happy
to be recognized as a storyteller. I have so many stories from my life
experiences that long to be shared, stories I need to share in order to connect
with the healing power of being heard, being respected for what I have survived
and being valued as a decent human being among other decent human beings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Being human is challenging, at its very best it is
challenging. We are all doing our best to overcome yesterday’s mistakes and
injuries. We are all waking up each morning with hope that we will grow into
our better and higher selves. We want our story to have a happy ending,
satisfying closure. And we want that for others. So I find myself these days
doing more listening than telling. In my storytelling experience, I have come
to see that listening helps me to be a better person while it also helps the people
around me to be their better selves as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The title of today’s sermon, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tongues and Ears</i>, might imply that I am going to talk about hot
sex. But, instead, I am going to talk about hot and heavy listening. I am
trying to listen to myself these days. What messages am I sending to myself? Which
voices in my head get power and authority to tell me who I am and why I am here?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">You, too, may have been wounded in the past by the tongues of
others. Other voices may have told you, and effectively taught you, that you are
not enough, a problem, a disappointment, a loser in the line-up of human
beings. And what has been said cannot be taken back. However- it is an insult
to the God who created us if you and I wallow in resentment and bitterness
about the evil that has come from tongues of others. God’s plans for redemption
in this world depend upon our trust in God’s power and goodness within us. So
we are called in our discipleship journey to listen for the Word of God and the
voice of God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">God created each one of us with a purpose. We are here for a
reason, to be part of the Beloved Community, to help usher in the Reign of God.
Tongues of others may have done their best to throw us off the highway, to
obstruct our view of who we are and what good we might contribute to this
world. It is absolutely possible for the evil on the tongues of others to trap
us in darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">But it doesn’t have to be that way. Your tongue can speak
healing words to yourself. Your ears can listen to lessons of hope from others.
And we can all walk into the light together. It’s all about tongues, words
spoken, and ears, lessons learned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
tongues and ears are vital to our personal growth. What we say to ourselves and
about ourselves and how we listen to it are key in how we perceive our place in
this world. We are all teachers. We teach ourselves first. And if we hope to
teach good and healthy lessons to our children, students, families, neighbors,
friends and co-workers then we must first review and improve the curriculum
that we have been studying about our own value.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My friend, Karen Gennette, offers to me the gift of “Listening
Sessions.” She listens while I talk. Her listening is highly effective as a
form of encouragement in my life. One day I talked to Karen about kindness. I
recalled experiences of being treated kindly by others and I told her about
moments when I shared from the kindness of my own heart. We were both struck by
how kindly we felt at the close of an hour. I talked about kindness and she
listened to my talk about kindness and we both increased our investment in
kindness. I think it was more than an emotional response. I understand this
kind of thing to be hormonal. When we choose to focus on kindness, compassion,
joy, faith, hope and love we open up the hormonal channels that release
endorphins into our blood stream. And we actually become kinder, friendlier,
more compassionate and loving. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We see the whole world through our own experiences. If we want
the world to be a kinder place then we start by talking kindness to ourselves
and asking people around us to talk about kindness to us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Isaiah says: “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a
teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word.” We are all
teachers and we teach ourselves before we teach anyone else. It is through our
discipleship, our relationship with the redeeming Word, Jesus himself, that our
weary selves are redeemed and set free to lift others up to where they long to
be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s September and school has begun. Children are seated at
desks all over the city and teachers are standing in front of the room doing
their best to teach what must be learned if the children are going to succeed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The Commercial Appeal has a feature section in today’s paper
about teachers. What people think teachers are doing as opposed to what
teachers are actually doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
volunteered at Snowden School in my neighborhood. I confess that I could not do
what teachers are called and required to do day after day after day! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I admire our teachers. In fact, I am in awe of
the people who show up every day and manage all that they have to manage in a
classroom full of children and young people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Tony Campolo tells a story about a fifth-grade teacher, Jean
Thompson, who looked at the students in her classroom on the first day of
school and she said, “I love you. I love all of you just the same.” It was the
way she routinely began the school year. But Campolo says that Ms Thompson was
lying. We all know that some students are much easier to love than others. How
many of you have ever been in a class where it was clear that the teacher just
didn’t particularly like you? All teachers have favorites. How many of you have
been in a class where it was clear that you were the teacher’s favorite? Right.
While somebody else was not. That’s the way it goes in school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Teddy Stoddart was in Jean Thompson’s room that year. He was
not her immediate favorite. He slouched in his desk all the time. He mumbled
and muttered when he spoke. His hair was messy. He smelled awful. And his face
maintained a rather dull look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Ms Thompson had access to Teddy’s records. She could have and
should have known. The notes were all there in his file. First grade: Teddy is
a good boy. He shows promise. He has some social challenges. Poor home life.
Second grade: Teddy is a good boy. He is too serious for a second grader. His
mother is ill. His father is not invested in Teddy’s school work. Third grade:
Teddy is a troubled child. His mother died. His father is detached. Fourth
Grade: Teddy is a boy who needs help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Christmas time came and all the children in Jean Thompson’s
class brought gifts to their teacher, piling them on her desk. They were all beautifully
wrapped in red paper, gold paper, and green paper with pretty ribbon—except for
Teddy’s gift. It was wrapped in brown paper from a grocery sack and held together
with lots of scotch tape. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She opened all her gifts and when Ms Thompson opened Teddy’s
gift she discovered a rhinestone bracelet with several stones missing. And a
bottle of cheap perfume, the bottle half empty. The children started to giggle
and make fun. But Ms Thompson put the bracelet on her wrist and held it out
with an admiring look. “It’s gorgeous! Thank you, Teddy!” Then she dabbed some
of the perfume on her wrist and smelled it, taking in the experience and
smiling widely. “How nice! Teddy, this is wonderful!” The students changed
their attitude when they saw how much the gifts meant to their teacher. The
giggling stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That afternoon, when all the other students had left the room,
Teddy walked up to his teacher and said, “Ms Thompson, all day you have smelled
just like my mother. That’s her perfume. And her bracelet looks so nice on you.
I’m glad you like it.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">After that, Ms Thompson’s classroom was transformed. She had
heard a new voice, a new word had been spoken to her and she had listened. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She no longer focused on teaching reading,
writing and arithmetic. She focused on coaching, tutoring, listening, being
kind… so the students could learn reading, writing and arithmetic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Years went by and Jean Thompson taught many students. One day
she got a letter. “Ms Thompson, I’m graduating from high school and I wanted
you to be the first to know! Teddy Stoddart.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">More years went by and the teacher got another letter. “I
wanted you to be the first to know. I am graduating from the university, second
in my class! It has not been easy but I made it."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Six years passed and the next letter said: “Ms Thompson, I am
graduating from med school and in a few weeks I will no longer be Teddy but Dr.
Theodore Stoddart, MD. I am being married on June 27th and I want you to come.
I hope you can make it. I hope you will sit in my mother’s place at the
wedding. You’re the only family I have. Daddy died last year.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Jean Thompson bought a plane ticket and she went to that
wedding. She sat in the seat where Teddy’s mother would have been seated. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Jean Thompson was transformed by a student. And because she
was able to move into a place of transformation, she gave all of her students a
chance to be transformed. She saw in that rhinestone bracelet and the cheap
perfume a chance to be part of the Beloved Community. She chose words to say to
Teddy and to the students in her classroom that would help to usher in the
Reign of God. She was transformed. Teddy was transformed. Her classroom was
transformed. The world around all of them became a kinder place. A place of
hope. Lonely hurting people became family for one another. The irony of the
story is this: When Jean Thompson was retired and elderly, Teddy Stoddart was
her family, the one beside her at the end of her days. Her student became her
child, a family born from deep listening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">May we use our tongues to speak words of healing and hope. And
may our ears listen carefully for what the Word of God has to say to each one
of us. We are part of something magnificent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-82121622798989485942015-07-19T08:09:00.000-05:002015-07-19T08:13:56.200-05:00Restoring the Soul<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Psalm 23</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Mark
6:30-34, 53-56</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Kingsway
Christian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">July 19,
2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was a child, we had a brick fire place in the backyard
where my father burned trash and garbage. One morning my father was emptying
trash cans into a blazing fire. I was about five years old. A metal pipe was
sticking up out of the flames and it appealed to me. I reached out and grabbed
it, closing my fingers around the hot metal. I screamed in pain. My mother came
running outside and put butter on my hand. She gave me an aspirin and we sat
together until the pain subsided. She loved to tell people what I said as I sat
beside her and sobbed… “Oh, Mama! That’s two important lessons I’ve learned
now. One: Don’t ever grab things out of the fire. And Two: Oh, Mama! I’ve
already <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">forgotten</i> the second lesson!”
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When we look back over the important lessons we’ve learned in
life, isn’t it usually associated with some kind of suffering, illness, injury,
a loss or a dispute? Nobody wants to suffer but everybody does suffer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Life involves suffering. Just being born into this life is
frightening and painful. Babies cry first thing after they are born and those
of us who have been here a while sigh with relief. “Ah, she is alive! She is
now suffering with us.” Each of us deals with suffering in our own way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Last year, in the United States, doctors performed over 15
million cosmetic procedures. Nearly 13 billion dollars were spent on breast
augmentations, nose jobs, lipo and face lifts. We do whatever we can afford to
do in an effort to deny that we are aging, to avoid the look of suffering. *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">An estimated 100 million Americans suffer from chronic pain.
There is a rising tide of addiction to prescription pain killers that has touched
nearly every corner of our country. The problem can be found in thriving cities
like San Francisco, Chicago and New York.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the epidemic is harder to manage in rural and more isolated areas
where poverty leaves residents particularly vulnerable and with substandard
healthcare systems. ** We do what we can to avoid suffering. Nobody wants to
hurt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In my life and in my experiences of suffering I have learned
two important lessons. And fortunately I remember them both at the moment…One: Don’t
ever grab things out of the fire. And Two: Trying to deny or escape suffering
brings its own kind of pain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Look at us. We like to think of ourselves as self-sufficient. We
enjoy believing that our lives are grounded in an order that makes sense, a
routine that is dependable and under our control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet we come here; we gather in this
place, this beautiful church with its lovely sanctuary, to connect with the
grace of God and to be honest about our need for the compassion of Jesus. We come
here to be healed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can relate to the
weariness of the disciples and I can also see myself among those who press in
for a touch, for healing. We live in both places because being Christian, being
faithful, being committed isn’t a vaccine against suffering.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In today’s gospel reading we see the twelve disciples
returning to Jesus. They had been out teaching, preaching and healing. Jesus looks
with compassion at the fatigue on their faces and he directs them to get away
and rest. But before that can happen, the crowds recognize Jesus and his
disciples. They press in. Jesus looks with compassion on their suffering. He
attends to the needs of the crowd. We imagine the disciples also rolled up
their sleeves and got to work, in spite of their fatigue, attending to the
needs of that crowd. Wherever Jesus was became the place of compassion and the
crowd recognized that. This happens twice. And you can imagine the disciples
wondering about their benefits package. Wasn’t there any vacation time in that
agreement they signed?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It is as if we are to get two important lessons from this
reading: One: Jesus values Sabbath rest. His compassion recognizes that his
disciples cannot meet the needs of others without being restored themselves.
Two: Jesus’ compassion compels him to meet the needs of others when they come
for help. And so it is that the disciples must be honest about their own suffering
and humbly acknowledge that they belong to the crowd, the needy people pressing
in, begging. I see the weary disciples kneeling and reaching to touch the fringe
of Jesus’ cloak.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He restores my
soul…” We know the Twenty-third Psalm so well that it rolls off our tongues. We
memorized the verses when we were children in Bible School. We teach the verses
to our children and grandchildren. It is so familiar that we can easily miss
the power in it: He restores my soul. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">An eighteenth-century spiritual director, Jean Pierre de
Caussade, wondered how we as human beings can know what God wants us to do, what
God expects from us, in any given moment. Are we to rest now or keep on
working? De Caussade concluded that God reveals Godself in each moment: in our
rest, in our play, in our work and in our suffering. God is present and it is
our duty and privilege to discern, to surrender ourselves to that compassionate
presence. He wrote: “Everything turns to bread to nourish me, soap to wash me,
fire to purify me, and a chisel to fashion me in the image of God. Grace
supplies all my needs.” ***</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The good shepherd provides pastures with fresh water and green
grass for all of his sheep, a place of compassion where all souls are restored.
That is what the church can be. A place people recognize as a place of
compassion. The place where people come to touch the fringe of his cloak. To be
comforted and healed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with</i> us. We are
not always the givers. The crowd has much that we need to receive. There is no <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us and them</i> in the shepherd’s green
pastures. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My partner, Anna, and I had the privilege this week of touring
St Jude Children’s Hospital. We met so many nice people. Even the guard at the
front gate was exceptionally helpful and kind. The place is cheerful, brightly
colored with interesting art on the walls. We heard lots of good stories while
we walked from building to building and while we ate lunch in the cafeteria. We
heard about mothers who come to the front desk with desperation in their eyes
and a sick child at their side. The receptionist at the front desk has seen
mothers empty out their purses, saying, “Take it. Take everything I have. Just,
please, do something to help my child.” And the receptionist has the privilege
of responding with compassion and generosity. “Keep your purse. We won’t need
your money.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A place where people come for healing, mercy. A place known
for its compassion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I saw a Danny Thomas quote on one of the walls: “Success has nothing
to do with what you gain in life or accomplish for yourself. It is what you do
for others.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The successful church is recognized as a place of compassion,
a place where all people recognize their need to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak.
A place where all souls can be restored. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">*“Nip. Tuck. Or Else.” Time Magazine, June 29, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">**“The Price of Relief” Time Magazine, June 15, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">***<u>Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and
Season After</u>, Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 262<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-8971511578231460582015-07-05T08:06:00.000-05:002015-07-05T08:06:00.981-05:00The Need For Weakness
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Shady
Grove Presbyterian Church<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">July 5,
2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Psalm 123<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">II
Corinthians: 12: 2-10<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Prologue:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we
think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are. Choosing to be authentic
means: cultivating the courage to be imperfect, exercising the compassion that
comes from knowing that we are all made from strength and struggle and
nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we
believe that we are enough.” (Brene’ Brown: <u>The Gifts of Imperfection)</u></span><u><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Sermon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">According to ancient Christian legend, God created the angels
to worship and serve God. Then God created the world and human beings. “Serve
humans and worship me,” was God’s command to the angels. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To the angels, this was a strange command. They were pure
spirit. So why should they defer to lesser beings? Why should they mingle with
earthly matter?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, as it happened, there was one angel who was the most
beautiful and brilliant of all the angels. His name was Lucifer, known as the
“light-bearer.” Lucifer, immersed in his own brilliance and enamored of his own
beauty, declared, “I will not serve humans!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And so it was that Lucifer and his followers were cast out of
heaven and into a place created for devils.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In commenting on this popular story, St Augustine observed,
“It was pride that changed an angel into a devil; it is humility that changes
men into angels.” (Kurtz & Ketcham, <u>The Spirituality of Imperfection) <o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Have mercy, upon us, O Lord! Have mercy upon us!” The
psalmist prays, telling God, “We have had more than enough of contempt. We have
had our fill of scorn.” As people of faith we realize that when we pray this
prayer in all sincerity, God is most likely in her wise and merciful way to put
a mirror before our faces. Because she is most interested in our spiritual
growth and maturity, she invites us to see how we have shown contempt for
others, how we have been scornful, arrogant and full of pride. Few of us are
pure victims and none of us are innocent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If we pay attention, if we take our spiritual life seriously we
learn to pray, “Have mercy on us, Lord! Have mercy on us <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in spite of our repetitive failings, in spite of our pettiness, in
spite of our insistence on comparing ourselves to others.”</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In today’s epistle reading from Paul’s second letter to the
church at Corinth we read Paul’s defense of himself. The Corinthians are being
seduced by prophets, men who claim to have special powers and mystical
connections with Christ and heaven. At one point, Paul refers to them as “super
apostles.” He is defending himself as an apostle and he is trying not to boast
in an effort to differentiate himself from the boasting super apostles. It’s
tricky. He doesn’t want to fall into the pattern of his opponents. And yet he
must steer clear of ugly accusations and blaming. That can be so demeaning when
we’re trying to look dignified and righteous. After all, this is the church. It
is the early church and we can only hope that early Christians abstained from
impertinence and pettiness in their relationships with one another. Right?
Wrong. Humans have always been humans, in the church and everywhere. Paul is as
human as you and I as he defends his position as an apostle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A story: One night the pastor of a Presbyterian Church, in a
frenzy of religious passion, rushed to the front of the sanctuary and fell on
his knees. Beating his breast, he cried out to God, “I’m nobody! I’m nobody!”
An elder in the church, impressed by this example of spiritual humility, joined
the pastor on his knees, crying, “I’m nobody! I’m nobody!” The church custodian
was watching from the hallway. He joined the other men on his knees, calling
out, “I’m nobody! I’m nobody!” At that point the pastor nudged the elder, “Hey!
Look who thinks he’s nobody!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Humility is not self-abasement and it is not self-exultation.
To be humble is NOT to make comparisons. It is to recognize the reality: Each
of us is no better or worse than the one next to us. We are who we are and on
our own particular spiritual journey, trying to connect with the best of
ourselves more often than not. We hope to do the least harm and, if we’re
fortunate, to find ways to help ourselves and others find God and live in peace
together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We like to blame other people when things do not go to suit us
or when things go badly wrong. It’s those immigrants. It’s the city council!
It’s the police! It’s the Republicans! We find somebody to blame and that
allows us to feel more secure, superior. But blaming is counterproductive to
progress as individuals, as a church and as a society.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Andrew Aghapour recently wrote an article on this topic for
“Religion Dispatches,” an online magazine. </span><a href="http://religiondispatches.org/our-failure-to-understand-ferguson-a-cognitive-explanation/?utm_source=Religion+Dispatches+Newsletter&utm_campaign=b9e6fbdafc-RD_Daily_Newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_742d86f519-b9e6fbdafc-42422221"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">http://religiondispatches.org/our-failure-to-understand-ferguson-a-cognitive-explanation/?utm_source=Religion+Dispatches+Newsletter&utm_campaign=b9e6fbdafc-RD_Daily_Newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_742d86f519-b9e6fbdafc-42422221</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Included in the article is a short film that shows the NYC
subway stop on 36<sup>th</sup> Street. There is something absolutely unique
about that subway stop. One of the steps in the staircase leading up to the
street level is a fraction of an inch higher than all the other steps. The
video shows person after person tripping on that difference. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Black people, white people, men, women, young,
old, a man carrying a baby, a woman carrying a briefcase…people trip. Fast-paced
piano music underscores all the people tripping and catching themselves. (It’s
funny!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">James Bording observes: “On its own, when you see one person
slip, you automatically assume that person who slipped was clumsy or not
playing attention. But when you look at the aggregate, you realize that the
failure isn’t on the individual at all, rather the structures that cause
certain people to fail with almost no fault of their own. And yet, without this
data, people will very quickly ascribe the mistake to themselves.” I must be
clumsy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">In the case of this subway step, it would be inaccurate to
solely blame each individual for tripping. Only by observing the aggregate can
we see how a social structure—here, the design of a stairwell—is a more
powerful cause of what seem like individual errors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">We all trip. We all deal with larger surrounding forces that
throw us off balance from time to time. All of us make mistakes. We get it
wrong and have to try again. We’re imperfect. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And because that is true, it just makes good
sense for all of us to let up on the blaming and our attempts to one-up the
other guy. It makes good sense to find ways to value ourselves and our neighbors. It makes good sense to work together to right wrongs and to leave the world in better shape than it was before we got here. It makes good sense to realize we all need to lean on the mercy of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s something more, something bigger, wiser and filled
with more love than we are able to imagine out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That something is the God who created each
one of us. While we make mistakes, God does not make mistakes. So it is safe
for us to trust that we are who we are meant to be—even with our flaws and
shortcomings. We are God’s creation and so are our neighbors. It is as much a
mistake to judge and condemn our neighbors as it is for us to allow the
negative judgments and condemnations of our neighbors to overwhelm us with
shame. Our neighbors’ opinions are nothing in the light of God’s creative
brilliance and love for each one of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul tells the Corinthians that he has struggled with a thorn
in his flesh. Maybe he is referring to a chronic sinus infection. Maybe the
thorn is a particularly annoying person in Paul’s life, somebody toward whom he
cannot feel kindly. Maybe Paul is referring to an attraction for men. Some
scholars think Paul dealt with homosexuality. We do not know what the thorn was
but we do know that Paul was courageous enough to be vulnerable. He models for
us authenticity and vulnerability. Something about himself was not what he
would have chosen for himself. Repeated prayers received this response from
God: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Accept who you are and have faith. It is so simple. We find
that kind of simplicity so difficult to trust. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul concludes by realizing that he is grateful for his weakness, this
thorn in his flesh. It is his weakness (an intentional
gift from God) that leaves an opening, a place to connect with all that is
good. “Just as I am.” Paul might start singing. He was well loved and put to
good use by God—just as he was. Just as I am. Just as we all are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-67131411006440251182015-07-04T13:44:00.001-05:002015-07-04T13:44:32.947-05:00What Keeps the Fire of Your Faith Burning?
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Binghampton
United Methodist Church<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">July 4,
2015</span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Six weeks have passed since I was invited to answer this
question, “What keeps the fire of your faith burning?” It is an invitation to
share with you, the people of Binghampton United Methodist Church, my testimony. That is how I see this opportunity, as a chance to
give testimony to what keeps me from falling into despair. I grew up in a
church where we had “Testimony Meeting” every Wednesday night. We sang
choruses, raised our hands toward heaven and gave testimony, telling what God
had done for us that week, what prayers had been answered and how our faith had
been nourished. Those testimonies shaped our understanding and appreciation for
each other. They shaped our understanding and appreciation for God. Those who
have heard me tell stories about my childhood know that I am grateful to be
free from the rigid legalism and the self-righteousness that was part of my
childhood church. However, I am also aware that being raised in the church and
in a family where faith was foremost, I have become a person of faith. It is as
much a part of me as my eyes, my thoughts and my emotions. I cannot escape
faith. It has been baked into my bones. And the faith that has been mine since
childhood still gives my steps direction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">It has not been an easy assignment, discovering what it is
that keeps the fire of my faith burning. First I reflected on how I know that I
have faith. What is faith? It is certainly more than thoughts, memorized
scripture verses or belief that God exists. Faith, for me, is a way of
understanding life. I have faith that my life, as well as your life, means
something. I am not here just to breathe, eat, sleep and move from birth to
death. I am here to satisfy something deep within myself and to assist the
Creator who brought me here. I believe my life means that I matter because the
one who brought me here matters. And, if I pay attention to the presence of
love in my life, I can help the Creator make creation what she first imagined
when her work began. I am capable of helping to satisfy the Creator by becoming
all that I was meant to be and by letting the light of love shine through me in
such a way that creation moves toward fulfillment in the eyes of the original
Creator. We are co-creators. I am a worker bee in the holy hive of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have faith that we are all here to engage
in divine work with the Creator. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I have concluded that there are three things that keep my
faith alive: 1.) my imagination, 2.) the spiritual discipline of daily prayer
and 3.) the steadfast love of my partner, Anna.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">First: I imagine better days. I imagine a world where soil,
water and air are treated with respect. I imagine a world where dogs and cats
are not abandoned or mistreated. I imagine a world where everyone has enough
tasty food to eat and regular opportunities to enjoy meals, music and dancing
with friends and family. I imagine a world where diversity is a treasure to be
valued and honored. I can see it up ahead. I feel it coming. And so I tell stories
as a way to make it real even now—if not for all of us then for some of us. I
listen to the stories that people want to tell, need to tell, as a way to let
them hear for themselves how much meaning they experience in their lives, how
much unique power they have to share. If not for all time then for some of the
time. I imagine a better life for all of us. And I am deeply grateful for that
capacity to imagine. It gives me hope and keeps me from falling into despair. I
recognize that there is something childlike about the way I put my imagination
to use. Some might perceive me as naïve or uninformed, too trusting for my own
good, too simple to be taken seriously. There was a time when I thought I might
be unintelligent, not smart enough to see how awful our circumstances are here
on earth. But my faith informs me that I am surely smart enough to know that
hope must be kept alive by those who are trusting, simple and imaginative. I
carry a light that comes straight from the gift of my vivid imagination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Prayer keeps the fire of my faith burning. I pray every
morning, the first thing I do every day. I sit on the couch with my dog and my
cat. I drink coffee, read scripture, look out into the back yard, journal and
talk with God. I talk and I listen. I tell God what hurts and I share my
confusion. I ask for what I want and apologize for wanting so much. I lift up
the people I know who need a touch from the hand of God. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel heard, cared for and respected. I
receive what prayer has to give me, the promise that I am not alone and that my
day will not be pointless. Every day that includes a time for prayer is a day
when I make spiritual progress. I trust that my entire day belongs to God but I
am only able to focus on God when I sit down and devote a specific time for our
relationship. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Prayer is a matter of discipline for me. I learned from my
mother how to exercise and value self-discipline. I set goals for myself and
work on building a new habit, whatever it is that I want to add to my daily
life. Eventually the habit comes naturally and fades into my identity. I have
become a person who prays every morning. That is how I see myself. It is not an
effort that strains me. It is who I am. I value the discipline of daily prayer
and recognize that it keeps the fire of my faith burning. I am not alone no
matter what challenges face me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And the third thing that I recognize as fuel for the fire of
my faith is the steadfast love of my partner, Anna. The steadfast love of God
is called “hesed.” It is a word that refers to the dependable, unchanging love
of God. While God is good and being loved by God is amazing, I need to touch
and be touched by love that lives in a human body. I need ears that listen to
me with patience and respect. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to
hear a voice that speaks kindly to me. I know there are cloistered saints and
people of deep faith who are celibate. I am not one of them. I need to interact
regularly, intimately and intensely with another human being. I need that kind
of relationship in order to grow in my faith, to recognize where my own growth
still needs to happen and to be reassured that I have not been abandoned. Anna
is hesed personified. My faith in the goodness and abundance of God is made
real for me in the love that I receive from Anna. I am grateful for my
daughter’s love. Jennifer inspires me to love my own life because it is the
life that gave life to her. I want her to have faith that she, too, comes from
goodness and light. I value the love that I receive from so many friends. Those
relationships teach me how to ask for what I need and to accept with grace the
gifts that I am given. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I live in faith that we are all learning together. We have all
been lost together and we have all been found in the love of God. Each of us moves
back and forth between lostness and foundness. It is part of our imperfection
and human weakness to waiver in our faith. We are not God. Knowing that, I
trust that a better day is coming, something only God can imagine. I have faith
that my prayers are all being answered and the prayers of all people are being
heard even now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I believe that the
mercy in God’s redemptive friendship with us is deeper and wider than anything
we can possibly know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what keeps the fire of my faith burning and I am very
grateful to you for asking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-36008119748186818412015-01-18T08:09:00.001-06:002015-01-18T08:09:25.870-06:00Becoming Convinced<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Shady
Grove Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">January
18, 2015</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Preface
to Worship:</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am becoming convinced that it is not nearly so important
what we do or what we leave undone that matters most in this life. What matters
most is that we are loved. No matter what we do or what we leave undone, we are
loved deeply and steadfastly. Whether we are right or whether we are wrong;
this is of no consequence to love. We were created because it pleased God to
have us here—just as we are. Each one of us is an expression of God’s love. In
fact I am becoming convinced that love is the only thing that really is.
Everything else is an illusion we have created. </span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sermon:</span></b></div>
<b>
</b><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John 1:
43-51</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Harriet Tubman was born a slave in Dorchester County,
Maryland, in 1822. Historians are not certain about the year of her birth
because accurate records of slave births are not always available. But it is
certain that she grew weary of her life, trapped and abused by the whims and
demands of a white slave-master. At the age of six she was given her first job.
Her master rented her out to work for a poor white farmer, Mr. Brodess and his
wife. She recalled one morning being beaten five times before breakfast.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In 1844, Harriet married John Tubman, a free African
American. When she learned that she was to be set on the auction block and sold
to slave dealers from Georgia, Harriet decided to run. She told her husband
that she planned to escape and when he said, “It’s too dangerous to run for
freedom,” Harriet replied, “There are two things I have a right to in this
life: liberty and death. If I can’t have the first one then I’ll take the
second.” She ran for liberty, risking everything, headed for Pennsylvania where
slavery was against the law. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I felt like I was in heaven!” she said about her first deep
breath of freedom. Lawmakers in Pennsylvania had made the state a good place to
learn and work for runaway slaves. Harriet got work as a servant and a cook in
private homes. She earned money and saved money. And she could have remained
safe and free in her new life. But the taste of freedom lost its luster when
she thought about her friends and family back home. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Freedom wasn’t freedom unless she could share it with those
she’d left behind. So Harriet Tubman went back where her life was not her own
so that she could keep it—so that she could live it freely and abundantly,
courageously leading group after group out of the awful grip of slavery and
into the light of liberty. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She first had to taste the sweet refreshment of freedom for
herself, discover that she could find her way there, and then she discovered
how much she had to offer to others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She became convinced that she had particular gifts, strength
and courage to be used for the good in the world she knew. She was convinced
that love knew her, claimed her and called her to set others free.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In today’s scripture (John 1:43-51) Jesus finds Philip and
says, “Follow me.” Apparently there is something adequate enough in what Philip
sees and experiences of Jesus that he immediately becomes convinced that Jesus
is the Messiah, the one he has been looking for, praying about and hoping to
know. Then Philip finds Nathanael and tells him the good news. “We have found
love and it came to us from Nazareth!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A good question. The question reveals more about Nathanael
than it reveals about Nazareth. We can see the man’s opinions and prejudices.
Love has to do an awful lot of hard work and stage multiple miracles to get
through our set opinions and our deeply ingrained prejudices. Once we learn and
become convinced that a place, a town, a neighborhood is bad news, we rarely
change our minds about that. Once we learn and become convinced that people are
not to be trusted, it takes a heap of miracles to undo the attitude. Once we
become convinced that only the strong survive it takes something like an awful
injury followed by a miraculous healing to make us consider the value of
vulnerability and admitting our weaknesses. Once we learn and become convinced
that people who look like us and live at the same level of economic security as
we do are the only ones we care to know and befriend, it takes some kind of
local disaster and a period of miraculous rebuilding for love to be revealed
and recognized in the face of the different, the “other.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Always there, always at work, love tries to break through
the dense fog of our misconceptions and illusions to let some light in, to set
us free. Because we’re never free and we can never really allow others around
us to be free until we know ourselves as an absolute expression of love in this
life. There’s so much useless baggage to shed, so much meaningless weight we
carry around while we avoid or deny the light of love that comes from our very
soul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus lets Nathanael know that he sees the light of love in
Nathanael. Jesus sees and knows what’s real in Nathanael-- underneath the man’s
opinions, prejudices, cultural training. Jesus is love and so he can see
beneath the resistance and fears that defend Nathanael. Being known is miracle
enough to turn Nathanael’s world upside down. He leaves his world and opens
himself, following Jesus to see with new eyes, to hear with new ears, to taste
with a new expectation, to touch and be touched with an openness to love in
every fingertip, every hand shake and hug. Love knew him and he let go of his
culturally influenced reality long enough to know love. His life became a life of love, devoted to
loving himself and others, setting himself and others free. A true disciple.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes all we need is an open window, just a crack in our
defenses, to see there’s so much more than what we had thought or believed, to
be convinced that life has more to do with love than we had ever before
imagined. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending
and descending …”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I went to see the film, “Selmer” this week. I highly
recommend that you see to it too. The camera shows close up and fiercely the
faces of people who have allowed their fears to harden into rigid, seething
hate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all recognize ourselves in
those faces. I mean, it requires that I be fearlessly honest to admit it. But I
have been so hurt and so afraid of people or a person that I have hardened the
love right out of my perception of them, made them into lifeless, loveless
objects and given myself permission to hate the objectified frame. Maybe you
have too. Maybe you know that experience and can admit how much damage it has
done to your soul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have been known to close the door on anything other than
hate, nurtured a thirst for revenge and a deep desire to erase the one I see as
my “enemy.” I saw my own face in the face of Selma’s sheriff. I may not have
participated in the same level of physical violence against the other as some
participants in that story- but I have felt the hunger for violence that can be
awakened in any of us. It is part of the illusion we live with in our world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dr. King and his wife, Coretta lived with the constant
threat of death’s reality in their home, at the table and in their bed and in
their children’s beds. Dr. King’s nonviolent strategy was shining the light of
love full blast into the faces of hate—inspiring absolute rage. While at the
same time, the light of that love was inspiring tremendous courage and hope in
the hearts and lives of Selma’s African American people. They were seen, recognized
and called out by Dr. King as people of great worth, people with a proud
history. They were people with so much to contribute to the world around them
if only they were free to give, free to vote. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So they got together with all that courage, strength,
collected gifts. And other people were attracted to the light of love in Selma.
People came from all over the world to join them. Love led the way in the march
from Selma to Montgomery. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dr. King gave everything he had and all the light within him
to set the people of Selma free—not just the African Americans but—more
miraculously—the ones who had closed up and shut down their vision because of
the opinions and prejudices that had blinded them to the best thing that life
offers to any of us…love, love that lives deep within our souls.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love brings us into this world and, for a time, that is all
we know. But as life happens to us and we get hurt, we find ways to defend
ourselves from love. We create barriers and defenses that distance us from our
own soul and prevent us from recognizing, valuing and sharing our love with the
soul of others. We find ways to trap and abuse ourselves in slavery to all
kinds of illusions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Until something happens, until some Savior comes into our
town, until some relationship surprises us with its unexpected goodness, until some
book or film or sermon awakens our hunger to return to what we once knew and
trusted about love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then we start becoming convinced that love is the main thing.
We recall that it is the real thing, the only reality, the thing that can set
us free and give us the courage, strength and gifts to turn around, go back and
set others free.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-33918869370594269592014-10-21T11:53:00.000-05:002014-10-21T11:53:01.623-05:00"Your Children" A recording of the sermon preached at First Unitarian Church of the River in Memphis, TN on Sunday morning, October 19, 2014. An observance of Children's Sabbath. Hear a recording of Rev. Elaine Blanchard telling the story: "Luba, the Angel of Bergen Belsen" as told to Michelle McCann by Luba herself. A true story for people who are not afraid to consider truth.<br />
<br />
http://www.churchoftheriver.org/resources/sermoncast<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-46241664402904710952014-06-29T08:55:00.000-05:002014-06-29T14:39:31.293-05:00Welcome Outside the Walls<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Psalm 13 </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Matthew 10:40-42 </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Preached for Holy Trinity Community Church </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">June 29, 2014<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus is talking to his specially selected disciples in this
short Gospel text from Matthew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
entire tenth chapter records a speech Jesus gave to the gathered disciples. He
gave them authority to cast out unclean spirits and the power to cure every
disease. He sent his selected disciples out as sheep in the midst of wolves.
Jesus refers to them as prophets, righteous ones and little ones. Those who
welcome them, giving even a cup of cold water, will not lose their reward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Although the disciples were given authority over unclean
spirits and the power to cure any disease it is interesting to note that they
were apparently not given the capacity to over-ride any lack of hospitality on
the part of other people. The disciples would have to lean on the hope that
somebody, anybody, whenever and wherever they carried the good news, would open
their hearts and their homes to receive them graciously. And, as you can well
imagine, some did and some did not receive those disciples graciously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What is it about us as human creatures? What slams the door
and closes us off from truly encountering one another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We read the 13th Psalm and it is clear that fear and dread
of our enemies is not a new thing. “How long, O Lord, shall my enemy be exalted
over me?” I wouldn’t want to dismiss or minimize the reality that we live among
people who are not worthy of our trust. There are good reasons for locking our
doors and using good judgment about who we allow in the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anna and I were in Washington DC this past week and we
visited the Holocaust Museum. Cruelty is real and terrible. The level of
cruelty inflicted on others at the hands of the Nazi regime was awful, painful
and infuriating. Six million people died. It’s the agony they endured before
their death and the terror that the survivors and the liberators witnessed…that
leaves us wondering: What happens to us as human creatures? What slams the door
and closes us off from truly encountering one another?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rush Dozier, Jr. has written a book, Why We Hate, and he
makes it clear that hate is born from fear and it is irrational when humans
hate each other. The fear comes from a feeling that survival is threatened in
some way. To combat irrational fear of the other person, Dozier suggests
programs that mix people of diverse backgrounds in a positive setting where
unique individual qualities can be seen and shared. I would suggest that
storytelling circles are a very helpful tool for breaking down the fear that generates
hate and dangerous prejudice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In his book Dozier reminds us of the terrible dragging death
of James Byrd in Jasper, Texas. The shocked citizens of that small Texas town,
a population of only eight thousand, tried to follow some of Dozier’s strategies
for righting what had obviously gone terribly wrong. Black and white people got
together and went through an intense period of community soul-searching. While
some worked on reconciliation, the Ku Klux Klan and the Black Panthers were
also meeting in the town, calling for new members and more divisive action.
Those groups were largely ignored. A series of vigils were held in memory of
James Byrd. Crowds came to the lawn of the courthouse and people began to look
at each other. They started listening to each other. They made it their
business to know each other as neighbors and friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In January 18, 1999, the mayor of Jasper and a large
committed crowd gathered in the city cemetery. They watched as workers tore
down a long, rusty iron fence. For seventy-five years that fence had separated
the graves of black people from the graves of white people. A barrier came down
and people resolved to work on their relationships, their faith in one another
and their trust that human life is valuable and dignified by the love of God
within us. We are no longer a threat to each other when we realize how much
each one of us has to offer the other. That kind of realization takes time,
effort and the courage to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus sent his disciples out to share what they had been
given: the good news that God is love and all human life is dignified by the
love of God within us. Jesus urged his disciples to go where people live, learn
to know them where they met them and to be sure that, when they were welcomed,
to realize this as a generous extension of God’s love and welcome, a gift, a
joy, something worthy of reward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What are we afraid of losing if we actually welcome the
stranger in? Sitting here in this warm and welcoming church building among
friends it is easy for us to imagine that we are the good guys, the ones who
would open the door widely to learn something new. We would allow for a new
relationship to be born. Because in this place and in this hour of worship we
are feeling welcomed ourselves, grateful for a place to belong, a place where
we are known and valued. Here we feel safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anna, and I enjoy watching real estate programs on
television. It’s good TV while we eat dinner. House Hunters are led from place
to place by real estate agents. We watch couples search for a home that meets
their list of requirements. Until I started watching all these HGTV shows I was
unaware that double sinks in the master bathroom are a must-have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have discovered the concept of the
“man-cave” by watching HGTV. And I am constantly amazed at all the
twenty-somethings who get their first job, get married and seriously expect to
move into a 5 bedroom home with an open floor plan, a three car garage and an
outdoor kitchen for entertaining. All of these homes have guest rooms, fully
furnished and nicely appointed. And even so—with all this space, all this focus
on entertaining and a room that is designated for guests –we have become, as a
society, more and more closed off to the other. It’s interesting. And it’s a
hard pattern to shake and shift toward greater hospitality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The church has not been helpful in breaking down the walls.
As an institution, the church has done its share of contributing to the shut
down and shut out of the other. Certainly from that day in the year 1517, when
Martin Luther nailed his 95 these on the front door of the parish church in
Wittenberg, there has been a clear divide: them and us. They wait to be told by
the priest what the Bible says and what it means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we read the Bible for ourselves and
interpret it for ourselves. And so on and so on the divisions go. We construct
reason after reason to build these walls of separation. And that’s the way we
do church behind our walls of brick and mortar. We feel safe with our little
family inside here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Let's be clear...Jesus sent his disciples out to meet people, to spread good news. He didn't say, "Go forth and build brick buildings. Invest all your money in heating and cooling huge structures. Plan on spending large portions of your budget on upkeep." </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I think it’s time for us to shake things up and shift our
way of being together toward a more generous welcome, a ready hospitality. I
think it’s time for the church to act less afraid of difference, change and the
challenges of being human together under the roof of God’s love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">David Waters wrote an interesting column for yesterday’s
Commercial Appeal. He informed us that Islam is now the second-largest religion
in all the southern states except for South Carolina. Waters says, “What an
astounding and outstanding development in Southern hospitality, although not
everyone is feeling particularly hospitable about it.” Christians in Middle
Tennessee had to be reminded by the U.S. Supreme Court to read the first
amendment when Muslim neighbors started building a mosque in Murfreesboro.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Memphis has a friendlier story in terms of its hospitality.
The seventh house of prayer here in Memphis has opened its doors at the corner
of Bill Morris Parkway and Hacks Cross. Dr. Mohammed Assaf, a member of the
Islamic Association of Greater Memphis, says, “We are blessed to have good
neighbors. The interfaith community here is very strong. We know each other,
like each other and trust each other.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Part of that trust comes as a result of the Annual Ramadan
Dinner hosted by the Islamic Association. People from all over town, all races
from all walks of life and from all faiths sit down together and eat. I think
there were 800 people at the feast last year. We share a table experience. We
talk to each other, ask questions and learn about one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On July 13th we will gather again. For the
eighth year, we will be welcomed to a feast provided by the Islamic
Association.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lately I have realized that one way we could chip away at
racism’s fear and hate would be to rebel against the pattern of inviting only
people of our own race over to dinner. Eating together breaks down barriers and
shines light on the love that lives within us all. Racism remains a strong wall
that divides us only as long as we do not eat together, for as long as we do
not share our homes with each other and do not come to know the life stories of
the other. Effective anti-racism efforts involve the intimacy of our own homes
and our own tables. Public encounters are not nearly as effective as private
encounters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The real work of the church has left the building. We can
claim to be a welcoming church but how welcoming is it when we insist that the
other has to find us, get transportation and arrive at our door and walk inside
the walls that we have constructed and claimed? We can stand at the doors of
this worship space and smile as brightly as possible. We can shake hands and
hug every person who comes to the door. We can give away excellent coffee and
donuts on Sunday morning. But as long as it is just us coming in the door we
are not growing…not personally and not in our faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until we leave the building we are
stagnating, withering and dying. I am looking forward to the day when the walls
of the church, with all of its barriers, come tumbling down.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">If that sounds disastrous to you then I might remind you how we all come together in times of disaster. Differences disappear and we work side by side as one family when we experience disaster. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Outside the walls we stand--vulnerable and filled only with the promise
and power of God’s love within us— we can meet the other face to face and share
the good news that all of us are vulnerable and all of us need each other to
become fully human. When barriers come down people can resolve to work on their
relationships, their faith in one another and their trust that human life is
valuable and dignified by the love of God within us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Preached
at Neshoba Unitarian Church</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Cordova, TN </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">June 8,
2014</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ring
the bells that still can ring</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forget
your perfect offering</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There
is a crack, a crack in everything</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s
how the light gets in.”</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From
“Anthem” by Leonard Cohen</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve said it so many times and I feel the need to say it
again: It is challenging and often very difficult to be a human being. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look at my cat, Alex, lying in a circle of
sunlight on the floor and I know he isn’t concerned with climate change,
violence against women and the problem of racism in our justice and corrections
systems. Alex never worries about getting the oil changed in the car and he is
totally unconcerned about his security when it comes to retirement. But we, as
human beings, have all of these concerns on our minds and we tend to feel overwhelmed
or indifferent. The flood of information is so much that we drown in it sometimes,
even those of us with the highest educations and the best intentions. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s why I keep telling stories. Because in the moments
when I am telling a story, I am not struggling. I am not worried. I am not
confused or frustrated. I am simply being myself and “ringing the bell that
still can ring.” It may not be perfect. My stories are certainly not powerful
enough to put an end to violence against women but the stories are the bell
that I ring and it keeps me centered, motivated and hopeful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the five years that have gone by since I was the
Religious Educator here at Neshoba Unitarian Church, I have spent much of my
time in jail. I went to Shelby County’s jail for women to tell stories and to listen
to the stories of women who are serving time there. I went to listen to them
because I wanted to find <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>a hungry place,
a place where people thirst for a chance to be noticed, heard and valued.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
have been disrespected and dismissed in my life. I know that kind of pain and I
went to the jail to listen to stories because I have learned how much healing
happens when people listen to my stories. There is freedom in the experience of
face to face respectful storytelling. Freedom. Even in jail, human beings can be
liberated to be the best human being they can possibly be—when light comes in
through the cracks. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Each one of us has the power to liberate and to be liberated—to
the extent that we do what we can with what we’ve been given to make the world a
better place.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In 1961, Clarence Gideon, a poor man in Florida, petitioned
the United States Supreme Court. Gideon was in jail in Raiford, Florida and
serving time for breaking into a pool hall. He was poor and poorly educated, a drifter
with a criminal record. He couldn’t afford an attorney. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clarence Gideon thought that was unfair and he
claimed it was unconstitutional for a man to be denied legal counsel because of
his inability to pay. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Until recently I would have guessed that the law in the
United States of America has always provided legal counsel to the poor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
(to put it into context) I was nine years old at the time Gideon wrote his
letter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is very recent in our nation’s
history that legal counsel has been guaranteed to the poor among us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The letter was written with a pencil and in big block
letters. It was processed and given the respect it deserved. But Gideon was not
the first person to claim the right to counsel regardless of inability to pay. Twenty
years earlier (1942) in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betts vs Brady</i>
the Supreme Court had ruled that the constitution <i>did not</i> guarantee counsel in
state criminal cases. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“But the Supreme Court never speaks with absolute finality
when it interprets the constitution. From time to time the high court overrules
its own decisions. Clarence Gideon, from his jail cell in Florida, was asking
the Supreme Court to change its mind.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anthony
Lewis/ <u>Gideon’s Trumpet</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And they did. We now have public defenders, attorneys who
focus on cases where indigent citizens are in need of counsel. The Shelby
County Public Defenders are bright, dedicated, and good humored. They are
overloaded with cases; and determined to do the best they can for every one of
them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because Clarence Gideon rang his bell—doggedly determined to
be noticed and heard—our public defenders are out there ringing their bells and
letting light shine into so many otherwise dark places. The needs are enormous and
the problems are complicated.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">According to a recent feature story on CNN, there are about
as many people behind bars in this nation as there are people in the city of
Chicago. One in every 108 citizens is locked up and living under supervision.
According to the NAACP, one in three black males born in the United States
today is likely to spend time in prison at some point in his life. That’s
compared with one in six Hispanic males or one in twenty-five white males. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than two million of our neighbors are locked up<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>right now in some prison cell and-- because we
do very little to encourage and educate them while they are incarcerated-- far
too many of them will return to jail within a few years after their release.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This kind of information is discouraging. It’s the kind of
information that can leave us feeling overwhelmed and helpless. I want to point
out that feeling overwhelmed and helpless is as much a trap, a prison cell, as
any iron bars can be. To throw up our hands in despair is to trap ourselves,
silence the bells and turn out the lights.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It costs on average $47,000 a year to keep an inmate in
jail. But what would it cost us to help somebody in jail? What would we have to
give up in order to liberate one human life? And what would we gain if we set
ourselves free from the belief that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there’s
nothing I can do about the crisis of mass incarceration?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Michelle Alexander’s book, <u>The New Jim Crow</u>, is an
excellent read and an eye-opener. In her last chapter she says, “It is this
failure to care, really care across color lines that lies at the core of this
system of control and at the core of every racial caste system that has existed
in the United States or anywhere else in the world.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know you care. I know this congregation well enough to
know that I am preaching to the choir here. It is my hope that my words today
might inspire one or some of you to go to jail and ring the bells that still
can ring. Contact the volunteer coordinator and volunteer to be a literacy
tutor. Help somebody earn their GED. Start a book group. Teach a craft or an art. Set up a series of
lectures in which eight of you talk to the inmates about your own careers and
how you got where you are, what matters to you in life. Give someone a chance
to play a keyboard, to sing a song, to write a poem. Call the office of the
Shelby County Public Defenders and ask one of them to give you a name for one
of their clients, somebody who needs a friend, somebody who currently has
nobody coming to jail on visiting day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
not what you do that matters so much. It’s doing something that will make a
difference.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Clarence Gideon was a poor man, poorly educated and
incarcerated. He wrote a letter with a pencil and he mailed that simple
communication to Washington DC. And because he did something—we now have public
defenders for all of us in this country. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I met Carolyn while she was serving time in our county jail.
A short and round African American woman. Thirty-seven years old when I met
her. Carolyn has spent most of her life around North Memphis. Sometimes she
lived with her mother in an apartment or in the home of a friend or relative.
Sometimes she lived on her own on the streets. She started prostituting at the
age of thirteen. Dropped out of school. Fell in love with crack cocaine. No one
urged her to stick with her formal education. She learned how to survive by the
strength of her own body and spirit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She chose to join us in Prison Stories class. For four
months she sat in the circle with me and eleven other women in the jail.
Carolyn told stories about her life. Some of them were so funny we slapped our
knees and laughed til we cried. Some of her stories were frightening, so
frightening it made me see the world through different eyes when I left the
jail and headed for home. Her stories opened windows on worlds I had never
seen, places and people not far from my home but previously invisible to me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At the close of our time together and at the performance of
the class stories, I called Carolyn up to the front and gave her the
certificate of completion she had earned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She turned to the gathered audience of incarcerated women, family
members, jail staff and community guests. She held that certificate up high
over her head and she announced, “I took this class because I wanted to tell my
story to somebody. And somebody listened. Ms Elaine and my sisters listened to
what I been through and I saw the truth. I used to think I was a bad girl, a
fast girl. I used to think weren’t no hope for somebody like me. But now I told
my story and I can see… I ain’t no bad girl. I ain’t no fast girl. I am a girl
what had bad things done to me and I can get over that. I can be free.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so can we all. So can we all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“There
is a crack, a crack in everything</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s
how the light gets in.”</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-91799921847162882072014-05-01T07:21:00.002-05:002014-05-01T07:21:24.600-05:00Memphis' Commercial Appeal Article (Sunday, April 27)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Storytelling and art combine to help students communicate
creatively</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Michael Lollar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
April 27, 2014</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is Elaine Blanchard’s second semester as an adjunct
professor at Memphis College of Art. Blanchard is a storyteller and a woman
that one art student is convinced “could get along with a brick wall.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Blanchard is best known as a woman who goes beyond some of
the biggest walls in the city along with the razor wire atop them to reach out
to women in prison, helping to “set them free” by getting them to tell their
stories.</div>
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<br /></div>
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She also is a teacher who has taught special education and
gifted students at Snowden Elementary School. And she is an ordained minister
who teaches classes called “The Preacher As Storyteller” at Memphis Theological
Seminary to help future ministers relate to their audiences.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blanchard’s roles as educator and mentor came together at
Memphis College of Art last semester when her optional class drew students for
the current semester by word-of-mouth. “It’s one of those classes that’s now in
high demand,” says Maria Bibbs, the Memphis College of Art teacher who
recommended hiring Blanchard as part of a liberal arts curriculum tailored to
artists.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"She’s electrifying. I love to hear her voice and just to
see her coming. She’s such a warm and engaging person,” says Bibbs, who learned
of Blanchard through her volunteer project, “Prison Stories,” which has turned
Blanchard, 62, into one of the most recognized women in Memphis. It earned her
a Jefferson Award, an award from The Commercial Appeal as one of the Twelve Who
Made a Difference and a winner of the vision award this year from Women of
Achievement.</div>
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It will also turn Blanchard into a TV personality next month
when WKNO-TV airs a 30-minute documentary about her by Craig Leake, a nine-time
Emmy winner who followed and filmed Blanchard’s seventh installment of “Prison
Stories” for 15 weeks. The documentary will air five times beginning at 9 p.m.
Thursday, May 15. In it, Blanchard enlists women to tell their stories, then
writes and produces a play based on their hard-luck lives and the misdeeds that
landed them in prison.</div>
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“Miss Elaine makes you feel like someone ... She gives you
hope,” says one inmate in Leake’s documentary.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
When he learned that Blanchard joined the faculty at the
College of Art, Leake, who teaches in the department of communication at the
University of Memphis, said that whoever hired Blanchard is “very wise. Anytime
you see her in a crowd you know people flock to her because they want to talk
to her. She’s one of those people who makes you feel somehow important. What
you say she really wants to hear. That puts her in an ideal position to
influence students.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A student would never feel that, ‘Oh, here she comes with
her old yellowed notes.’ She’s got to be a breath of fresh air. If she is
encouraging artists to tell their own stories and the stories of their own
artwork, wow, you couldn’t find anyone better to do that,” says Leake.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that is exactly what the College of Art had in mind,
says Bibbs.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Art students may be great artists, but they are not always
the most communicative people when it comes to telling the story of their art
or learning to play a role in the marketing of art.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Memphis College of Art is focusing on an innovative
curriculum that tries to prepare artists for the real world, says Bibbs. It may
be one of the few schools, possibly the only one, to employ a storyteller to
further that goal.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The class with 16 students this semester is called,
appropriately, “The Art of Storytelling,” and it helps students learn to build
a narrative using elements of theater, writing and performance art that come
into play in Blanchard’s “Prison Stories.” Bibbs had been exposed to a related
idea while in graduate school at the University of Wisconsin, she says. It was
a volunteer project that involved students to help teach African-American
studies and creative writing to African-American inmates.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blanchard’s class is not a volunteer project, but it exposes
students to the real world through field trips each semester. With Blanchard
they visited with homeless people, incarcerated women, adults with
developmental disabilities, nursing home residents and men in transitional
counseling after long periods of imprisonment. Students talked to members of
each group and chose one person to focus on as their individual class project,
creating artwork inspired by that person.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Robby McElhaney, 22, an illustration major of Franklin,
Tenn., said he chose a developmentally disabled man as his project because of
the man’s ability to constantly find joy in a life that, on the surface, has
little to offer. As part of the preparation, he said the class learned from
Blanchard to listen. “I think we (the students) would all agree it’s had an
impact on us.” One of Blanchard’s major influences, he said, “is just learning
to pay attention and to pay attention to details instead of waiting for your
turn to speak.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is one of the reasons why he says Blanchard’s class has
become one of his favorites and that she “could get along with a brick wall.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Classmate Crystal Foss, 22, a photography major of Seattle,
planned to focus on a female inmate and said that one of Blanchard’s best
lessons was to emphasize “vulnerability. We sat around the classroom for the
first five weeks and talked to each other. It gave you a way to be vulnerable.
It’s like bringing everyone together. It’s important to share that
vulnerability. It’s so easy to censor yourself. Then, it (art) is not really
true anymore.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blanchard often shares part of her own past and how her
misogynist father focused on his sons, treating her as an afterthought of
little value. She said such painful memories come out in what she calls
conversation” instead of storytelling. “Just look at me. Talk to me about your
life. That’s how I help people get in touch with their vulnerability and
authenticity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’ve learned that the things in my past that hurt are what
led me to be who I am now and to enjoy being who I am now. I am almost as
grateful for the hurts in my past as for the wonderful and nice things that
have happened. I wouldn’t enjoy my life so much if it wasn’t for all that I’ve
gone through. The gratitude has pushed my resentment out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blanchard says it is a joy to work with art students because
they “really get it. I don’t have to teach them that creativity is important.
They already know that. And I don’t have to teach them that human beings can
create something new. They’ve already got that. The thing about the College of
Art is that the students come, and we all appreciate that we’re creating
something new. It’s for the sake of creating, not that we think we’re going to
get rich or famous. It’s just that we’re creating.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The projects were set to be unveiled Saturday at
TheatreSouth, beneath the sanctuary at First Congregational Church at 1000 S.
Cooper, with students presenting their art and telling about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blanchard is exploring whether the artwork can be publicly
displayed later, either at the college or in a nearby gallery.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s so different than any other academic class we’ve
taken,” says Foss. “I don’t know whether to be nervous or excited.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That angst is part of the course, says Blanchard. “We become
artists shaped by the pain of our lives.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scripps Lighthouse</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
© 2014 Scripps Newspaper Group — Online</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-18370684263363621352014-04-27T15:25:00.002-05:002014-04-27T15:44:25.842-05:00Fear and Freedom<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I Peter
1:3-9, John 20:19-31</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Preached at Shady
Grove Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">April
27, 2014</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We are born with two instinctual fears: fear of falling and
fear of loud noises. We learn to be afraid of other things. We learn to trust
the same as we learn to fear. Life is all about learning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In my lifetime I have learned to fear rejection and
abandonment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all have our biggest
fears and those have been mine. Many trained therapists through the years have
listened to me talking about how those fears have gripped me and tossed me
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you’ll understand when I tell
you <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I was sick with fear, shocked
into a near panic in December of 2008, when I received a letter from a United
Church of Christ conference minister telling me that I had officially lost my
standing as a minister in that denomination. Rejected and abandoned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A confusing and frustrating three-year process had led to
that letter and the termination of my ministry with that particular
denomination. “Somebody from a previous congregation has written a letter of
complaint,” I was told from the beginning of the process. I was never told who
wrote the letter nor was I told what the complaint was. I knew I had never
stolen anything from a church member. There was no abuse of my authority
involving sexual misconduct. There was no drunken behavior that might have
shocked or embarrassed anyone. Repeatedly I met with a conference committee on
ministry in an effort to mend what was broken. My local pastor, Cheryl Cornish,
went with me to several of those meetings as an advocate. Friends wrote letters of support.
But the dye was cast. Every time I asked, “What are the charges against me?” I
got the same response from the conference minister, “You know the answer to
that.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When the letter of termination arrived in the mail it read: “She acts
confused about things she knows and she seems angry with this committee.” I
was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Losing my standing as a minister in the United Church of
Christ felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. It left me
feeling a little crazy…what had happened? It made no sense and that cloud of
uncertainty would not lie down and settle. There was no one smart enough to
explain it to me. There was no one powerful enough to fix things. I lost confidence
in the church and its systems. I lost confidence in myself. I lost my career,
my income, my pension and my health insurance. I felt like my life had ended. Hiding
felt like the best response. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">t would be years before I learned that that confusing
process and the loss of my ministerial standing with the UCC was a gift to my
faith, a light pointing the way to deeper faith.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because now my ministerial standing is with the Progressive
Christian Alliance, a group of professional clergy who engage in ministry
outside the walls of church buildings, who believe that good news is most
effectively offered and received out in the streets and in the places where
people actually live. I have discovered places where my light can shine and
make a difference. I am now involved in work and ministry that fits me like a glove. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am guessing that many of you have had similar challenges
in life. Loss of a career, the death of a dream, injustice, sickness, betrayal,
divorce, tragedy that turned the lights out and left you in a dark place—afraid
of falling, afraid of loud noises, afraid of what else might come along and
knock the foundation out from under your life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course we resist, for as long as possible, the very idea
that we could ever fall or fail. None of us graduate from college and make
failure part of our career plan. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I think
I’ll become a professional failure in 2008</i>. No. But Richard Rohr, in his book, <u>Falling
Upward</u>, tells us that falling and failure are important for all of us if we
are ever to wake up and realize the value of our faith. In fact, falling and
failure are the keys that open the door to let light into our darkness. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rohr points out that we all seek security. As we get
educated and move along in our careers, we plan on moving toward home, a safe
place, a place to belong. But Rohr says we’re inviting fear into our lives if
our largest hope is security and a place to stay put. For the spiritually awake
and alive, home is a place from which we move out and away- following the one
with the nail scarred hands and feet. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is what I have learned… the fear I felt as a result of
that rejection and abandonment left me nowhere to go but to ask for God’s help.
I had to learn to trust love. It wasn't helpful to trust smart people. Nothing was resolved or aided by trusting powerful
people. There was really no point in trusting my own rule-keeping and ethical behavior. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I was forced to move more deeply into my own spiritual resources where I
found Jesus meeting me right where my needs were, showing me his own wounds and
reminding me that he knows all too well what it feels like to be treated
unfairly, to be rejected and abandoned. Prayer, good friends, creative projects and therapy have
reassured me that the God who created me will never reject or abandon me. I
have no need to fear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Following the crucifixion, the disciples were afraid and hiding
in the dark behind locked doors. Confusion was huge in the mix of their fear.
What could possibly have gone wrong? They had been with the Messiah, the one
sent from God, the beloved. And if he could be arrested, convicted, executed …
gone… what else might happen in this terrible world?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus walked right through the locked doors and right into
the room where the disciples were. He met them where their fears were - not
with judgment or any kind of shaming. He showed all of them his hands, his feet
and his side, pierced and wounded, so they could see and believe, learn to
trust something more. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love cannot be executed. Love is never gone. We can let
go of our fears and learn to trust love. And when we do, we will experience
true freedom, moving out and following love wherever it takes us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-5247759030465334042014-03-31T08:45:00.001-05:002014-03-31T08:45:27.385-05:00Accepting the Award for Vision/ Women of Achievement 2014<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is what I know… To be a person with vision, to be able
to see what could be, out there, we have to first be able to see what is, right
here within us. We have to discover the beauty in our own story. Seeing that,
we come to see what the world needs and what we have to give it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I came to Memphis in June of 1994, broken and looking for
healing. Lost and longing for a place to belong. My daughter, Jennifer, was
with me. And I didn’t want her to get the idea that life is just hard and
bitter. I wanted her to know joy as well as challenge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I found a community of smart, creative and faithful people
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Cornish invited me to do the Children’s Time in worship, to tell stories.
People listened to my stories. And I discovered the beauty of my imagination,
the power of my own voice, the absolute joy of creating and telling stories.</span></div>
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supported me and given me the resources, space and talent I need to do
effective performance art.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And my wonderful partner, Anna, sets the stage of my life by
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t let anybody talk badly about Memphis around me. I came
here and love noticed me, healed me and gave me a place to belong, a way to
thrive and shine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You’ve heard it said: “Hurt people hurt people,” meaning
those people who are hurt turn around and hurt others. But I want to point out
to you that healed people heal people. We look back and see that the hurting
and the healing have made us who we are today, people who are able to see what
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I urge you to leave this place and continue doing what you
do best: Be good to your neighbors. Look at each other, lean in and listen to
each other. Let folks know they are noticed; their story matters. Healing will
occur. Everybody’s child will learn that life can be challenging but it can
also be full of joy. Memphis can become a safe place for all of us to call
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Thank you! </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-53854087581524176012014-03-16T08:48:00.000-05:002014-03-16T08:48:03.885-05:00Belonging to Love<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Psalm
121</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John
3:1-17</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Buntyn
Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">March
16, 2014</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We belong to love. Love created us, set us on the face of
the earth to breathe, to move and to become the people we are called to be.
Love knows us and love claims us. Love sets us free to question, explore, grow
and learn how to love and to be loved. Love allows us to be the light of the
world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Early on in my life I got the idea that love has to be
earned. I understood love as something that could easily be broken into bits,
lost forever. It was something fragile. At a very young age I was sexually
abused and my abuser said, “If you tell your mama and daddy, they won’t love
you anymore.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember one day after that when I was maybe five years
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front steps. Big sweeps of color, circles and figure eights. Dark clouds,
storms of color. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My mother was not impressed and she was not happy at all.
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off before your father comes home!” I scrubbed. She came to check on me several
times, huffing with her hands on her hips.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My father came home and the colors, though smeared, were not
gone. I was spanked and sent to my room. I remember my mother leaving my
bedroom, “Now you stay in here and think about what you’ve done!” I wasn’t
thinking about what I had done. I was thinking about holding on to love. “Mama,
do you still love me?”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She leaned her head to one side, hesitating. “I’m not sure.
Right now, I’m just furious with you.” With that she closed the door and walked
away. I learned that love is fragile and mistakes, messes, could cost everything!
I grew anxious about that, desperate to stay in the light of love.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe somewhere along the way you were taught that love is
not permanent. Love is not for everybody all the time. Love only belongs to the
popular, the pretty, the wealthy, people over there. Love belongs to those who
do not have accidents or make mistakes. Love is rare and hard to find, harder
still to keep.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What do we know about love? Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even those of us who are raised in pleasant
and protected homes are hungry to be fed, anxious to find meaning for the
living of our lives and dodging pain as often as possible. What could we
possibly know about perfect love in our limited understanding?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We spend our lives trying to outgrow the notions about love
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all too often our religious training confirms our worst fears for us-- that
some among us are loved and others among us are not. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I visit a friend at Jail East. I’m going to call her Crystal
although that is not her real name. She’s been in jail since June and her case
remains pending. I was asked to visit Crystal by somebody who knew she needed a
friend. I never met Crystal in the free world. Our conversations have all taken
place with a plate of glass between us, our voices transmitted by a telephone
line. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Crystal was born and raised in Arkansas. She was raised in
poverty, surrounded by addiction and violence. Her mother died when Crystal was
only thirteen. Her grandmother died when she was fourteen. Once the older women
in her home were gone, Crystal was abused by the men, uncles and cousins, in
her family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She dropped out of school in
the eighth grade. I asked what made her quit school and she said, “Too much
moving around. We didn’t stay anywhere long enough for me to stay in school.”
Crystal has five children of her own. The oldest one is thirteen, and they are waiting
for their mom to get out of jail. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was thinking about this scripture text as I visited
Crystal this week. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son so
that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal
life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thinking about Crystal and
wondering what she might think about love. I wondered how she keeps her spirit from
perishing with all the darkness she has known. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“How would you describe love?” I asked her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s something you can’t really describe,” she said. “It’s
a feeling.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And what does it feel like? How do you recognize love when
you feel it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It feels good, warm, close…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Who shares that feeling with you, Crystal?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And she immediately lifted her chin, her face bright. “My
children. Yep. My children.” She nodded happily, clearly seeing their faces in
her mind’s eye as she smiled. There it was: the light of love. In spite of all
the darkness in her life, Crystal harbors and cherishes love’s light. It comes
to her through her relationship with her children.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every person needs to know and cherish love, love that lasts
forever. We come to church because we long to be reminded that we are loved. We
want our church to be a place where that love is secure, unshakeable. We
worship together regularly to have the light of God’s eternal love rekindled in
our souls and in our community of faith.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nicodemus went to Jesus at night. It was dark and the
Pharisee hoped he wouldn’t be seen approaching Jesus with questions. He was a
Pharisee, a leader in his community, and yet he needed something more, some
answers, some reassurance, some love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He came to Jesus in the darkness of night, asking questions and hoping that Jesus
would shed light on matters of life and death. Nicodemus hoped that Jesus would
give him something more than what his education, his training and his
leadership position had given him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mama, do you still love me?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We want a love that does not hesitate. We need love we can
depend upon when we make a mess of the front steps, when we make a mess of our
lives. Because life is so uncertain, we require a love that stays warm and
close when we know very well we don’t deserve it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That is why God gave Jesus to us, so we could see what love
looks like when love walks here on earth. So we could see that even this
imperfect place can be a home for perfect love among us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It’s something you can’t really describe,” Crystal said.
“It’s a feeling.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And what does it feel like? How do you recognize love when
you feel it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It feels good, warm, close…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Who shares that feeling with you, Crystal?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My children. Yep. My children.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Out of the darkness comes light. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God created us like children for the family of God. There
are so many of us and yet every single one of us has been given the gift of love.
God gave us love and God planted within us the capacity to turn around and love
God in response to all the love and light we’re given.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Eternal love is not something we experience after death.
It’s what God gave us when Jesus was born, a light that keeps away the darkness.
A light that reassures us here and now—we are loved, just as we are. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">God gave…we receive. And that’s the challenge for us. It was
the challenge for Nicodemus too. Simply receive what has been offered to
you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Believe that love belongs to you
and you belong to love. It's a healing experience. It saves us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-38759392984739275662014-02-23T08:31:00.001-06:002014-02-23T14:53:44.555-06:00The Truth about Shame<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Matthew
5:38-48</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Shady
Grove Presbyterian Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">February
23, 2014</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Prelude
to Worship:</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once upon a time in Jacksonville, Florida, there was a white
man who stopped at a convenience store so his wife could run inside and pick up
a six-pack of Coca Cola. The man waited, turning up the volume on his gospel
music sounds. Lifting his face upward, he joined the Blackwood Brothers,
singing at the top of his lungs and lifting his hands upward toward heaven. He
was in praise mode. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A car parked beside the white man and he turned the volume
up just a notch. Four black teenagers got out of the car. One of the young men
spoke to the singing man. “Your music is too loud.” The white man ignored him.
“I don’t like your music; turn it down!” the teenager yelled this time. The
white man didn’t touch the volume on his radio but he reached under his seat--
to get his New Testament. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was just a small black book in his hand but the boy
thought it was a weapon. All four teenagers felt afraid, threatened. The
teenager shot at the man. Killed him. And the incident went to trial.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A jury heard the story. Will they call it murder? Will they be able to convict the shooter? </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus preached on a mountain side. “Be perfect, therefore,
as your heavenly father is perfect.” This does not mean to keep your nose clean
at all times, to have every hair on your head neatly in place. It does not mean
that we are called to live free from any mistakes or wrong doing. What it does
mean is this: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God gives us a promise
through the witness of Jesus among us. There is always the possibility that we,
even we, may love the world as God has loved us: fully, richly, abundantly and
completely. </i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Sermon:</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“One of the most interesting and effective exercises we can
give a child is to instruct them to make up their own games,” says Joan
Chittister, feminist theologian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By
creating their own games they become inventors, writers, artists and problem
solvers. Teach children to use and trust their imaginations and they will learn
to create a better world. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Carl Sagan taught: “Imagination will often carry us to
worlds that never were. But without it, we go nowhere.” </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It takes a healthy imagination to work with our scripture
text today. Imagine: turning the other cheek, giving the cloak as well as the
coat, going the second mile, praying for persecutors and oppressors. Imagine
being perfect?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John Wesley took seriously this verse from Matthew 5:48. “Be
perfect, therefore, as your heavenly father is perfect.” Why would Jesus
command such a thing if it were impossible? Wesley wrote about the “third means
of grace, entire sanctification.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because of the love of God and as a result of the sacrifice of Jesus, it
is possible, according to Wesleyan tradition, to be perfect. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In his journal John Wesley records an incident when he rode
his horse all day long across the country side, having heard about a man who
claimed to be sanctified holy and living beyond the struggle with sin. Wesley
was having trouble imagining such a thing, having never attained perfection
himself and having not yet met a perfect person. He rode for miles to see this
model of perfection. Following that experience Wesley wrote in his journal, “I
met the man for myself. And then I rode my horse back home, having not yet been
satisfied, having not yet met an example of spiritual perfection.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That amuses us and we sigh with relief, relaxing our tense
shoulders and reassuring ourselves, “Nobody expects me to be perfect, not even
Jesus could expect that.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus is challenging us with this Sermon on the Mount. We
are forced to think, to consider some significant things about ourselves, life
and living freely among other people. Can we love those who do not make our
life more wonderful?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am sure of some things in this text. I am confident that
Jesus does not expect victims of domestic violence to roll over on the kitchen
floor, allowing themselves to be kicked again and again in the name of faith
and discipleship. I am sure that Jesus is not telling oppressed people to be
passive to the point of apathy. I am certain that Jesus is not telling us to
accept persecution from others as if it were right and good in God’s eyes. That
would be misconstruing the text altogether. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am sure Jesus is challenging us to take our faith
seriously. Jesus needs every disciple to take the Christian faith seriously
because there is serious reconciliation work to be done. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s such a deep divide between the haves and the
have-nots these days. Religion has us polarized around the globe as much or
more than any other polarizing issue of our day. Matters of race are so painful
that we have gone to our separate corners and stopped talking about the issues
with each other. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe Jesus is on to something. Maybe this turning of the
cheek and going the second mile would help. Seems like what we’re currently
doing is only allowing more people to be killed in our streets and more prisons
to be over-crowded. Anger is everywhere: in traffic, airplanes, theaters, parking lots,
Walmart and home. Nobody is safe. Not really. No matter how sophisticated the
security system, we are all vulnerable to attack. So if nobody is safe than all
of us are together—whether we want to be or not. We’re in this dangerous place
united by our fear. Maybe we should all stand our ground and together look fear in the eye.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We are caught, today, in the tension between human nature
and being children of God. Maybe we could consider Jesus’ sermon and his
requests of us. “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Brene’ Brown has written a book about her own struggle to be
perfect. It is titled: <u>The Gifts of Imperfection. </u>A research professor
at the College of Social Work at Houston University, Dr. Brown is a leading
expert on shame, authenticity and belonging. Brown says the quest for
perfection will lead us many places but nowhere that’s helpful or healthy. We
can, however, learn to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfectly
ourselves</i>.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That process begins with the courage to get honest about how
imperfect we really are. Tell your story, she says. Tell it to someone who has
earned the privilege of hearing your truth. Shame hates nothing more than our
decision to reach out and tell our story. Shame cannot live with exposed truth.
Out of our truth telling comes the realization that our flaws and imperfections
are actually gifts, gifts that contribute not only to our health and to the
fullness of our own life but also to the health and fullness of the lives of
those around us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Brown writes: “Every time we choose to courageously speak
our truth, we make everyone around us a little better and the world a little
braver.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Telling the truth is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">noncooperation
with shame</i>. And shame flees when truth moves in. Our shame is not very
courageous. It doesn’t take much effort to dislodge it once we shed light on it
and see it as the enemy.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus says, “Do not resist an evildoer, your persecutor, the
oppressor.” </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I see films of the lunch counter sit-ins during the
Civil Rights movement, I am touched, emotionally moved and amazed at the
courage, the training, the determination not to resist but to stay connected to
the truth. Those African American students sat down at the counter knowing they
had every right to be there, knowing they belonged at that dime store lunch
counter, aware that they were as worthy as anyone who had ever ordered a
grilled cheese sandwich there. They were authentically present on those stools at the lunch counter. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Drinks were poured on their heads. Lit cigarettes burned
them. They were spit on, shoved, punched. The force that made it possible for
those African American students not to strike back was their lack of shame,
their authenticity and their own connection to the perfect love that was as
much a part of them as their hands that could have become fists and struck
back, their legs that could have started running for safety, their eyes that
could have closed and shut out the brutality before them. Their eyes… seeing
the contorted faces of the persecutors. Seeing the face of the oppressor and a
lust for power over others. The shame visible to the persecuted. It’s an awful
sight. They did not resist. They saw it all as something less powerful than
perfect love. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In 1932, Myles Horton, a former student of Reinhold Niebuhr,
established the Highlander Folk School in Monteagle, Tennessee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The school, situated in the Tennessee hills,
initially focused on labor and adult education. By the early 1950s, however, it
shifted its attention to race relations. Highlander was one of the few places
in the South where integrated meetings could take place, and served as a site
of leadership training for southern civil rights activists. Rosa Parks attended
a 1955 workshop at Highlander four months before refusing to give up her bus
seat, an act which ignited the Montgomery bus boycott. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One evening in the late 1950’s, white thugs staged a
nighttime raid on the Highlander School. According to Myles Horton that was the
night when a new verse was added to the song, “We Shall Overcome.” Horton says:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A group
of young people, a youth choir…was at Highlander. …They were looking at a movie
called “Face of the South.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was dark.
Suddenly, raiders came in with flashlights. They must have been vigilantes and
some police officers, but they weren't in uniform. They demanded the lights be
turned on, but they couldn't get anybody at Highlander to do it. The thugs were
furious…running around with flashlights. In the meantime, the kids started to
sing "We Shall Overcome." Singing together made them feel good. The
raiders yelled, "Shut up and turn on the lights!" Then some kid said,
"We're not afraid." That’s when they started singing, "We are
not afraid. We are not afraid." A new verse was born. Amazing courage was
born in the hearts of those young people. Perfection. No need to be afraid. Nothing
for which to be ashamed. No need to resist. The power of perfect love was alive
and at work within them.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jesus challenged his disciples and the gathered
congregation. Jesus challenges us today. Turn the other cheek. Give your coat
and your cloak as well. Go the second mile. Pray for those who persecute you.
Be perfect. Enter into a season of change. Let go of your own shame so love can
come to stay, love that has no need to put up resistance because love <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> the resistance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our call today is to have the courage to speak truth, tell
our own story to one another and make way for perfect love. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make this world a more wonderful place for all
of us to live together in love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-48530823236267412292014-02-16T08:45:00.002-06:002014-02-16T08:45:57.525-06:00Choose Life<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Deuteronomy
30:15-20</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">First
Presbyterian Church, Memphis</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">February
16, 2014</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve just started the fifth year of going into our county
jail and listening to the women who are incarcerated. I call the process
“Prison Stories.” I sit in a circle with twelve women and we listen to each
other. There are stories told about kids, mothers, memories of childhood,
experiences of abuse and neglect, stories about crimes, addictions, hopes and
dreams. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I went to the jail in January of 2010 because I had a
theory. My theory is that if people are given a chance to tell their stories
and to be heard (really listened to with respect,) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>those people will find a way to be free. Free
from whatever trap or limitation they have constructed in previous stories,
free to ask questions, free to imagine new relationships, free to dream dreams,
free to discover a new story, free to choose an improved future.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Initially the stories are something like this:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am not very smart; so school is not for me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ve never felt loved, so I’ll give birth to a child who
will have no choice but to cling to my side.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My daddy beat my mama regularly and my boyfriend beats me
now. My kids are screaming in fear. Pain pills keep me standing.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nobody has ever believed a word I have to say, so I no
longer choose to waste time on telling the truth.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Early in my experience inside the jail I learned to provide
choices for the women in the story sharing circle. Small things. Chocolate
brownies or oatmeal cookies? Two or four? I bring paperback books to the
classroom with me, about 20 of them. I display them on a table top and invite
the women to “shop” for a book before the class gets started. Small things, but
choices nonetheless. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">People in jail are not allowed many choices. You get what
you get when it’s given to you. That’s part of the punishment. That’s being in
jail. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We all want choices. Certainly Starbucks has learned to use
our desire for choice to their business advantage and for their increasing
profit. The more choices you’re given, the more special you feel. The more
attention given to your special latte, the more you feel cared for. The more
you feel special and cared for, the more often you will pull into that paved
lot and pay high dollar to have your coffee needs met. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let me provide you with some context for today’s Old
Testament scripture passage from Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy is mostly devoted to Moses’
farewell speech before the twelve tribes <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of Israel as they prepare to enter the Promised Land. Moses talks
on and on really. He reviews God’s activities among the chosen people. He goes
over Torah. And then he explains to the people that he will not be going with
them to the Promised Land. They will be led instead by Joshua. Moses says,
“I’ve laid it out for you, life and death, good and evil. Love God. Walk in
God’s ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choose to keep the
commandments so you will live, truly live, passionately, joyfully, blessed by
God’s presence and power. Choose life!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This farewell address is twenty-six chapters long, far
longer (I promise you!) than my sermon will be today. Moses’ spoke far longer
than any contemporary congregation would choose to listen. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His message was lengthy and his message has another, deeper,
problem. Taken at face value, Moses seems to be saying that people who love and
obey God will be blessed while those who do not love and obey God will be
cursed. If you have read the book of Job, you know this is not always the way
the story goes. In fact <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bad</i> things
happen to good people. And you, I am sure, can tell me stories about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> things happening to people you
would not refer to as particularly righteous. We can choose to love and obey
God but beyond that so much is out of our control. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Things don’t always work out the way we planned. In spite of
our best efforts to be faithful, truthful, loving and kind- life can disappoint
us and hurt us. We all live with questions about that. And we all look forward
to our opportunity to ask God, face to face, why things are the way they are here
in this reality.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My neighbor, Benjamin Liggett, is only sixteen years old but
he has impressed me repeatedly. He’s easy to talk with, thoughtful and kind.
He’s been nurtured well by his mothers. And he has the courage to nurture his
own curiosity. He asks lots of questions. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Benjamin is a student at White Station High School and
apparently a group of anti-abortion activists have been picketing there lately,
standing on the sidewalk before and after school. They call themselves <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Abolitionist Society of Memphis-MidSouth</i>.
One day this week Benjamin arrived at school and chose to engage the activists
in conversation. He says he was just curious about what evidence they might
site for their belief in God. The conversation, which was filmed by the
activists and posted on their Facebook page, never turned to the issue of
abortion. Benjamin asked questions about the existence of God and the adult
activists did their best to belittle his curiosity. They told him there is no
need to question God’s existence. They were patronizing toward his sincere
exploration into their faith. If he didn’t buy their platitudes and empty
phrases then he was simply someone who needed to be converted, someone who
should be shoved into thinking the same way the activists were thinking. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The video is posted on the Facebook page under this tag: “A
self-professed atheist challenged a couple of abolitionists.” They say Benjamin
rejected the gospel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am impressed,
having watched the video, with how respectful Benjamin was in his attempts to
connect, human to human, with those two men. When I asked Benjamin about the
encounter he said, “I just couldn’t get through to them. It was annoying. I
only wanted to know what evidence they have that God exists.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How hard is it for us, those of us who claim to live
faithfully, to speak the truth? We have no real evidence, nothing that would
stand up in court. What we have are longstanding relationships with tradition, spiritual
disciplines, scripture, and a cloud of witnesses who have gone before us. We
have our own experience with the one who created us and as we choose to engage
with the creator, to love and obey God as best we can—we come to live in a
meaningful partnership that increases the light of love around us. We are
empowered in our best moments to be more patient, more compassionate, and more
generous. But most moments are not our best moments. And there are no guarantees in life. And this is all we’ve got to offer the kids. So of course they’re
going to ask us questions. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Young people know that life is complicated and the answers
to thorny questions are elusive. If faith is to be of any substance at all-
then we must all be given permission to question, explore, experiment, learn,
grow and develop. And we must feel respected along the way, reassured that God
is with us, living in the questions and rejoicing in our courageous choices for
life and love-- even in the face of our struggles to understand. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In spite of our obedience and our love for God, things do
not always work out the way we had planned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Last Sunday Memphis lost one of its most faithful and memorable
neighbors. Nina Katz passed away at the age of 89. David Waters wrote about her
in the <u>Commercial Appeal</u> this week. A Holocaust survivor, Mrs. Katz
became a voice for tolerance, diversity and literacy in Memphis. She was born
in 1924 in Poland. In 1939, her parents, grandparents and younger sister were
taken to Auschwitz concentration camp where they died. Nina was sent to a labor
camp, a textile factory called Oberalstadt where she was among 800 survivors
who were liberated by Allied troops in 1945. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mrs. Katz said she had no idea why she survived. But she
did. And she chose to make her survival count, make the remainder of her life
meaningful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her family was all gone. But Mrs. Katz went to work for a
United Nations organization helping people reunite with their families after
the war. She met Morris Katz, a friend from her home town. They married and
immigrated to the United States in 1949. They came to Memphis. To her horror, Mrs.
Katz said, “I arrived at the peak of segregation in America and the familiarity
was more than I could bear. I became immediately involved in equal rights among
all people.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She was one of the founders of “Diversity Memphis,” an
organization dedicated to bringing people together regardless of their
cultural, religious or racial differences. She gave speeches regularly at
schools, churches and community events. She felt that it was her duty- to tell
her own story so the stories of those to come after her might not include something as
unspeakable as the Holocaust. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nina Katz chose life. She could have chosen bitterness and
resentment. She could have hidden any light the work camp left inside her. She
could have refused to ask any more questions of God or others. She could have
chosen so many responses to all that she lost in those awful years. She chose
life. And we in Memphis are so much better off because she was our neighbor,
because of her choice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In this most recent class of Prison Stories there was a
woman, Tate, who has had long <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and awful struggles
with heroin addiction. Heroin is a lover, she told us, who will not go away.
Once a person gets into a relationship with heroin, the high is something
impossible to forget and almost impossible to stop pursuing. We listened to
stories that involved the needle and its destructive consequences. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Over the four months we spent together Tate grew more
confident about herself and her future story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She could look back and see the choices she had made and what those
choices had cost her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked into
the future with hope—and understandably with some fear. Tate said it clearly,
“There’s got to be something more in my future story than the next high. I’ve
got to find a way to become the best woman I can be.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She is choosing life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As my neighbor, Benjamin, finishes high school and moves out
into the world, I hope he will continue to ask questions. And I hope that the
rest of us will be faithful in listening to his questions and learning from
them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As we live our lives in the memory and the glow of Nina
Katz’ witness among us, we long to be worthy of her commitment to our
community. We long to be the best Memphis we can be, deserving of Mrs. Katz’
trust in us to carry the light and to tell our own stories.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You and I are the church. We come together this morning not
as people who have all the answers. We come together today as people who need
each other on the journey to the Promised Land. Courageous. Curious. Creative.
We are a community of hope, free to choose life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5784783635536853534.post-89302990015267192072014-01-05T08:11:00.001-06:002014-01-05T08:11:18.542-06:00Flesh<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John
1:1-18</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Prescott
American Baptist Church</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">January
5, 2014</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As an artist I know the deep satisfaction that comes from
creating something new. As a playwright and performer I have had the privilege
of putting myself into an art form and expressing the incidents and ideas that
come from being me, body and soul. It’s all in there when the play hits the
stage. I can’t separate them. My imagination, my mind, my education, my family,
my flesh, my health, my faith, my hopes, my fears, my energy, the grace of God’s
love and the light of my spirit. All of it has come together and I created a
new thing. And because of this opportunity to create I feel such joy in being
alive. By writing and performing “For Goodness Sake” and “Skin and Bones,” I
feel that I have contributed from the best of my body and soul.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Paulo Freire, a Brazilian educator, believed that all of us
have “a vocation to be fully human” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are created to become all that we can be, to learn, grow and develop into fully
human creatures, deeply satisfied with what we can contribute to the world
around us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Being fully human means recognizing the great honor it is to
be body and spirit, flesh and soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Being fully human means coming to a place in life where we recognize and
respect what we have to contribute to the world around us. Being fully human
includes a search for meaning that asks questions about our identity in the
community and how we use the grace and gifts we’ve been given. Being fully
human also includes extending ourselves into the life of others for the good of
others. Being fully human is to merge our flesh and spirit as one creation,
recognizing our sacred partnership with The Word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Word became flesh so we might know the joy of becoming
fully human. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From the beginning the Word has been with the Creator
communicating love to human life, creating hope in our body and soul, connecting
with us, claiming us and setting us free to continue the good work of creation.
We are flesh and the weight of our bodies would seem to limit us, minimize what
we can do and how far we can extend ourselves. It would seem that way—until we
recognize and respect that the Word has been made flesh within and among us. We
are never far away from the mysteries and miracles of God’s love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nelson Mandela and others were imprisoned for more than
twenty-five years because of their struggle to end apartheid in South Africa.
They were held in an island prison, Robben Island. The recorded history of the
political prisoners on Robben Island contains many stories of the triumph of
the human flesh and spirit over oppression and torture. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writer, Margaret Wheatley, tells of a tour she took with
friends through that island prison. The tour guide had been a prisoner in the
very room they were viewing, a long narrow room that had held dozens of freedom
fighters for years. No cots were in the room. There had been no furniture at
all. Just cement walls and floors with narrow windows near the ceiling.
Wheatley stood there and listened to the guide’s narration. The cold came up
through the floor. She stared through the bars as the guide described constant
threats and capricious brutalities. Then, speaking very quietly, the guide
grinned, “Sometimes, to pass the time here, we taught each other ballroom
dancing.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Wheatley writes: “Demoralized and weary men were teaching
each other to dance in the cold silence of a long prison cell. Only the human
spirit is capable of such dancing.” *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Word became flesh and danced among us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The African American people in Montgomery, Alabama chose to
walk to work rather than to ride on the Montgomery buses. The entire community
of African American neighbors came together and created a plan and the will to walk, to work and to be something more in their
own eyes. They knew they were created to be recognized and respected as equals
among all God’s people. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They made up
their minds not to ride the bus, not to sit in the back, not to be seen as an
under-class. They walked for a year. Twelve months went by as they connected to
each other and to the power of God’s grace and love in their spirits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They turned down rides and they wore out pair
after pair of shoes. Their bodies did the walking but it was their fully human
spirits that kept up the boycott and kept the movement going strong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Word became flesh and marched among us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I met Carolyn while she was serving time in our county jail.
A short and round African American woman. Thirty-seven years old when I met
her. Carolyn has spent most of her life around North Memphis. Sometimes she
lived with her mother in an apartment or in the home of a friend or relative.
Sometimes she lived on her own on the streets. She started prostituting at the
age of thirteen. Dropped out of school. Fell in love with crack cocaine. No one
urged her to stick with her formal education. She learned how to survive by the
strength of her own body and spirit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She chose to join us in Prison Stories class. For four
months she sat in the circle with me and eleven other women in the jail. Carolyn
told stories about her life. Some of them were so funny we slapped our knees
and laughed til we cried. Some of her stories were frightening, so frightening
it made me see the world through different eyes when I left the jail and headed
for home. Her stories opened windows on worlds I had never seen, places and
people not far from my home but previously invisible to me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At the close of our time together and at the performance of
the class stories, I called Carolyn up to the front and gave her the
certificate of completion she had earned. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She turned to the gathered audience of incarcerated
women, family members, jail staff and community guests. She held that
certificate up high over her head and she announced, “I took this class because
I wanted to tell my story to somebody. And somebody listened. Ms Elaine and my
sisters listened to what I been through and I saw the truth. I used to think I
was a bad girl, a fast girl. I used to think wasn’t no hope for somebody like
me. But now I told my story and I can see that I ain’t no bad girl. I ain’t no
fast girl. I am a girl what had bad things done to me and I can get over that.
I can become who I was intended to be. I can be free from my past and be me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Word became flesh and told stories of liberation and
hope among us. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">From the beginning the Word has been with the Creator
communicating love to human life, creating hope in our body and soul,
connecting with us, claiming us and setting us free to continue the good work
of creation. We are flesh and the weight of our bodies would seem to limit us,
minimize what we can do and how far we can extend ourselves. It would seem that
way—until we recognize and respect that the Word has been made flesh within and
among us. We are never far away from the mysteries and miracles of God’s love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Wheatley, Margaret J, <u>Turning to One
Another: Simple Conversations to Restore Hope to the Future</u>,
Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc. San Francisco, 2009</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15705609362968530782noreply@blogger.com0