January 27, 2008
Matthew 4:12-23
Sermon by Torin Eikler
Epiphany 3
This past weekend, I traveled to Orangeburg, South Carolina. I did not go to participate in the primary elections that were held on Saturday, though it was interesting to see all of the signs and the smartly dressed young campaigners who seemed to be at every gas station along the way. No, I went to see the friends I made eleven years ago while we were rebuilding a church that was part of the surge of racially motivated burning in the mid-ninties. This was the ten-year anniversary of their “grand re-opening,” and many of the hundreds of volunteers returned to celebrate the milestone.
The festivities lasted all weekend and the people of that congregation really know how to throw a party! Workshops on sacred dance and choral singing in the African-American style were followed by a rich banquet, and the whole thing was filled with fellowship time and punctuated with door-prizes and trips to the site of the old building – now marked with a simple monument. It was a wonderful chance to reconnect with people I had not seen in years and to remember what I had learned about Christian love from my African Methodist Episcopal brothers and sisters.
Appropriately, the weekend wrapped up with worship on Sunday morning where, for the first time, I was surprised by the request that I sit on the chancel along with all the other pastors. (As an aside, the worship started at 9:30 and lasted until 11:45 – only slightly longer than the usual service.) After worship, there was a carry-in meal for those of us who would be getting back on the road shortly, and as I sat and talked with Mary Whaley, the conversation turned toward the interesting turns each of our lives had taken over the past decade.
One of the benefits of preaching every other week is the extra time we have to dwell on the scriptures and for events in our lives to converge to inform our thoughts if we are open to hear. That this conversation was one of those moments became clear to me as Mary began to speak of her life and mine as shaped by the leading of God. Her words echoed a conversation from the night before at the banquet. Stanley, a member of the church who had done all the concrete work during the rebuilding shared that he was considering doing some mission work – not the long-term kind but a week here or there helping others in need. When I asked, he told me that it wasn’t so much in response to what the church there had experienced (though that was probably part of it). No, he said that he was just feeling a call to reach out and help.
Leading, guidance, divine nudging… whatever we choose to name it, calling is a favorite subject for our faith community as it is for all believer’s churches. Our commitment to Christ begins with baptism that flows from the call we feel to become disciples, and our lives as disciples are often governed by a sense of calling. Yet, almost everyone I have talked to has trouble explaining how they receive that divine guidance. Rarely does it come as clearly as it did for four fishermen on the shores of Galilee. More often, people speak of confused feelings that just don’t seem to go away or, if they are describing the event after the fact, they talk about how seemingly unrelated events came together to point toward a new direction in their lives.
Most of us take it for granted that how we all receive and interpret the call is all a part of the mysterious workings of our God. But, acting on the call of God upon our lives is one of the more important parts of living as a disciple. So, I think it is worth each of our time to dwell upon our own experience. Hopefully we will come to understand more and become more open to and aware of the call as it comes.
In Seminary, we spent many an hour thinking, talking, and writing about calling. It seemed to be the main topic of our first years of ministry classes – this search to clarify the ministry to which we were called. Were we called to the pastorate? Were we called to work in soup kitchens or shelters? Were we called to teach? To lead as administrators? To write? To minister as chaplains? … Later, the question became “why.” Why are you called to minister to congregations or youth or those caught up in difficult circumstances?
In the midst of all these wondering conversations we were offered several different methods or perspectives to help with our search. One path started with us and traveled to the world. Along this way, we were to look inwards and find those things that brought us to life. What is it that excites you? What is the source of your deepest joy? These were the questions that we were asked to ponder. The hope being that equipped with that knowledge we would naturally find a place of ministry where our spirit would be fed by the work we did.
Another path began with the world and came back to us. In this case, we were asked to consider the broken places of the world – the places where we had witnessed or perceived pain pervading life – and then to look within ourselves for an answering response. Where does suffering awaken your compassion? What injustice makes you feel righteous anger? Where does your passion meet the world’s pain? In the answers to these questions was the key to understanding our call.
Taking another perspective that honored the communal nature of the Anabaptist faith community, we were asked to listen to those around us. What had we heard from our brothers and sisters? Was there something that came up more often than might be chalked up to chance? Perhaps all those separate voices saying that you should think about teaching or asking when you were going to become a pastor were actually the voice of God speaking through the community.
Still another method was for those who deal more effectively with the concrete. Write down the abilities you were born with and the skills that your life has given you. Then, find a place where that particular mix will fit a need, for God uses each of us with our unique mix of talent and experience to carry out the work of the Kingdom.
There were and are still more ways to think about calling. And, of course, there are books and more books that will help you through any one of these approaches. For my part, I did not find any one of the paths we were offered to be entirely helpful. They were either too vague or I ended up with too many options to really help me figure it out. I especially struggled with the idea that calling was to be found where our passion meets the worlds pain. That was a hard thought for me because as I looked back on my experiences since college, I recognized two time when I had been in that position.
My first year of volunteer service had been a wonderful time - particularly my time with Butler Chapel (the church I mentioned earlier). I continually found myself eager to do the work of building, and I came to love the people I served with. Yet, by the time my year with disaster response was over the director of the program had changed, and the new person in charge did not feel that continuing my position was a good idea. So I moved on.
Likewise, my last assignment as a volunteer felt like it could have been a place to stay. I was working in the soup kitchen run by the Washington City Church of the Brethren, and I found the work exciting and rewarding. There was a clear need for my service, and I was told by many that I did a very good job both cooking and interacting with the clients. But it was in the midst of this work that I found myself drawn to enter seminary which eventually led me here.
While neither of these jobs was without its problems and frustrations, they were two years of my life when I never remember feeling like I just didn’t want to go to work. (Think about your lives and the jobs you have held and see if there were times like that for you. I know that that has rarely been the case for me, and so those were powerful experiences for me.)
As I worked my way methodically through all those books at seminary, I found myself thinking that these two times in my life seemed to fit all the criteria. I had been led to those places by the voices of brothers and sisters and by the leading of my heart. My skills and talents seemed to fit the need that was in front of me, and I found the work exciting and fulfilling. These were places where my passion met the world’s pain, and yet I was called away from both of those positions. Why that is, I don’t know, but as Mary assured me, we must trust that God does. What I have come to realize is that somehow all the time I spent in meditation did manage to open me up to feel the leading of the Spirit guiding me forward into a new ministry as a pastor.
I don’t know if there is any one way to figure out what our calling is. I suspect that each person comes to it in their own way just as each person is unique and comes to God in their own way. Yet there does seem to be one thing, at least, that is key. If we are to hear the call of God on our lives, we must be open and listen. Peter and Andrew, James and John … they were all open to hear the call though they were in very midst of the work they were doing. And while very few of us experience Christ coming to us as they did or have visions like that of Paul to shock us out of the routines of our lives, we all – every one of us who has chosen to follow Christ – need to keep a space in our hearts, minds, and spirits open and waiting to receive the call of God. We need to do that because God’s call is not always a once and for all time thing. It is much more likely, I think, that we will find ourselves led in many different paths throughout the course of our lives if we are truly open and listening.
As difficult as it is and as challenging as it feels to live with that little bit of uncertainty, it is important to keep our inner ear turned toward God. If we don’t, we find ourselves deafened by the noise of our daily effort to get through everything that is piled on our plates. We are distracted by all the details, and we fail to step back a look at the bigger picture.
A friend of mine, Layla, once told me that God is always calling to us, offering new opportunities to serve and grow, and it’s okay to turn down what’s offered if we don’t feel ready. God will keep inviting us one way or the other. “The thing is,” she said, “the people who don’t accept the call miss out on all the fun.” Now, I don’t necessarily think that following the call is always fun for as Isaiah said we sometimes find ourselves despised by those we seek to serve. But there is truth in Layla’s words and there is joy in becoming a light for the nations. And, unless we stand open to receive the invitation, we miss even the chance to jump in and enjoy the party.
As we prepare to enter into the season of Lenten repentance, I challenge each of you, in your own way – be it by making lists, through meditative prayer, in conversation with others, or another way known to you – I challenge you, to turn the eyes and ears of your spirit toward God. Look for the finger of God around you in the midst of life. Listen for the whisper of the Spirit whether it comes to you in prayer or through the voice of another. Open that small space to welcome the call of Christ when it comes so that you don’t miss the invitation to join in the fun.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
The Vote for Apathy
20 January 2008
1 Samuel 3:1-20; James 1:19-27
Sermon by Carrie Eikler
Epiphany 2
When I was pregnant with Sebastian, Torin did the boldest, most loving thing any husband could do for his pregnant wife. He told me that anytime I had a craving—you know, the whole pickles and ice cream thing—anytime I had a craving, he would get me whatever I wanted. No matter if he had to trek all the way across town to get it, he would do it. Under one condition…I had to specifically ask for it. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you, but what Torin was trying to protect himself was my incessant tendency to be vague and say (whining) “I’m hungry…I want something sweet…or salty…or chewy…or crunchy.” He was not going to put up with ambiguity. He would help me figure out what I wanted, but he wasn’t going to do the guess work for me. And after all of that, you should know he only had to go out twice on a food run during the pregnancy. But, they did happen quite late at night, and I think I even had him get out of bed once to go to the supermarket to get me some “Hot pockets”…thankfully the store was right behind our house.
I wonder if it was with a similar loving duty that Samuel had for Eli that kept Samuel bounding out of bed at the various moments that he hears a voice calling his name. After all, the young priest in training Samuel did have obligation to attend to his elder and quite sight deprived teacher. Three times Samuel hears his name and assuming it is Eli, runs into his room, all-ready to accommodate whatever sweet or salty or chewy or crunchy need he may have…to only be turned away. It wasn’t Eli who had summoned him, but the voice of the Lord, something that Samuel wasn’t used to experiencing…something not many people were used to experience. Not in these times—these times were quite void of any hint of the Lord’s working, of people’s interest in communing with the Lord. Our story is set right away by describing the climate of Israel: “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.”
So Samuel probably just settled back on his mat in the temple, stretched, sighed, and closed his eyes one more time when he was summoned once more—but this time he was ready. Eli told Samuel that if it happened again, it was likely the voice of the Lord and he should respond, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” And the call of the Lord on Samuel’s life had begun. No longer was he simply hearing his name called, or hearing the words spoken by the priests above him, or even hearing the voices of those outside the temple who called out for money, or bread, or healing, or blessing. Now, Samuel began to listen, and God unfolds for him a vision that “will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.”
We are hearing a lot these days, aren’t we? Now, fully in the midst of presidential primaries there are many voices who are calling out to us, imploring us to see them as the best candidate to represent a particular party, the best candidate to lead our country. I have to say that I have been more interested in this election more than any other since I turned 18. And why not? We have a woman, a Mormon, a black man, a Prisoner of War, a peacenik, the former mayor of New York City, a man with a $400 haircut, a Southern Baptist pastor, and an actor. It certainly looks different than any election I have been a part of, which rightfully acknowledged is not all that many. And in some regards it might sound a little different than what I have heard in the last 10 years. But I wonder, in all that we are hearing, and there is a lot to simply “hear,” how does our “listening” make a difference to how we interpret and make these important decisions.
And the candidates know who are listening. Since the Regan Administration politics has sought to corner the Christian vote by appealing to Christian morals and ethics. Personal opinions on the separation of church and state aside, it is at least correct to say that we have seen the power that politics and religion have on influencing one another, and it’s not one that I feel I quite have a handle on. I strongly believe that the tenets of my faith direct me to see the world in a certain way and see the possibilities for addressing the world’s problems in a certain light which then translates into favoring certain political decisions. I think this is something everybody be they Christian or Muslim, Buddhist or Jewish, even atheists and secular humanists share: our ethics all come from somewhere close to us and we seek to live those out in the many realms of life, including the realm of our political citizenship.
Candidates know this. It’s not a partisan appeal, but part of a bi-partisan rhetoric. Historically Republicans have spoken more about faith and politics than Democrats, but in this race both sides are using religious talk and are hoping Christians are hearing what they say. Here are just some of the highlights made by presidential frontrunners (in alphabetical order, just to quell any accusation of priority)
Hilary Clinton – states that her Methodist faith has created in her a primacy of the golden rule which is something that encourages us to act. She has also quoted the book of James that states, faith without works is dead, and speaks often to the social messages of the gospels, and Jesus’ overwhelming concern for the poor and the marginalized
John Edwards – Southern Baptist/United Methodist who has been a bit more reticent about his faith, although publicly admits that a private faith is very important to him. He said “People are naturally skeptical of any politician who talks at length and openly about their faith, because they assume, just like with a lot of things, that they do it for political gain,"
Rudi Guiliani -Born and raised a Roman Catholic, he was educated in rigorous parochial schools, Giuliani says he even seriously considered becoming a priest "at least twice." But the thrice-married former prosecutor now declines to talk about his religious beliefs, calling them a private affair. However, on the campaign trail, he drops frequent references to the Almighty, even crediting God with preparing him to cope with 9/11
Mike Huckabee – a Southern Baptist Conservative with a Social Gospel inclination, he speaks of the inherent worth of each individual, which has led him to speak more about care of the poor than some Republicans. But he still carries his evangelical zeal on his sleeve: “When I first started running for office, a lady asked me, 'Are you one of those narrow-minded Baptist ministers who think only Baptists will go to heaven?'" He replies, "Actually I'm more narrow than that. I don't think all the Baptists are going to make it."
John McCain-raised an Episcopalian, he has for years attended a Baptist church in Pheonix. McCain is not baptized and claims that he is “not born again,” and describes himself as just a Christian. Nevertheless, he speaks of a deep faith in God that he credits with getting him through his toughest moments as a prisoner of war: During his imprisonment in Hanoi, "there were times when I didn't pray for one more day or one more hour, but I prayed for one more minute," he says. "So I have very little doubt that it was reliance on someone stronger than me that not only got me through, but got me through honorably."
Barrack Obama – a member of the United Church of Christ, Obama is the democratic candidate who speaks most about faith. He talks about becoming a Christian "…kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side of Chicago, I felt God's spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to His will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truth." He often speaks of being his brother’s keeper and what we do to the least of these. Incidentally, Obama recently had a smear campaign against him because of Islamic history in his family’s past.
Mitt Romney – Quietly, proudly Mormon, Romney has had to take the heat on his faith, particularly in light of many anti-Mormon incidents. In the same vein of Kennedy’s Roman Catholicism, Romney insists that a candidate shouldn’t be elected because of his faith, or not elected because of his faith.
Instead of being in a time, like Samuel, where the word of the Lord is rare and visions not widespread, it seems like now everywhere you look people are invoking the word of God, creating visions of bright and beautiful futures, of a country where the most faithful person will reign supreme. I try to listen to who I feel is actually professing what James speaks of: if their faith will promote a world in which the needy are cared for, where the marginalized are brought into the center, where care for each individual is paramount. But the difficult thing is, is that many candidates speak of these things. It’s not as if there is a clear front runner in the category of “doers of the word,” because all we have now are their promises, and we sit back and simply hear all these things and hope it all turns out for the best, we tentatively sit back and pray that whoever wins the race at least won’t mess things up too much.
I hear all these things, they way people promise change, which seems to be the catch word of this election. But honestly we have heard all these grandiose visions before. Which is the problem. Candidates have enticed me into their visions and I support them with my votes and I wonder: where is this better country, better world that is spoken of? Aren’t we supposed to see the clear visions of the Lord all around us? I don’t see the land of milk and honey around me, or even a glimpse of it coming in near future. I assume I will be hearing the same thing over and over in a different package, and I become apathetic to the process. In my apathy I don’t think it will make a difference who I vote for, because they will likely disappoint me anyway. I would love to think that I am alone in these feelings. But I bet I’m not alone.
I have often heard, and I’m sure you have too, that the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy. Hate is a strong emotion, just like love is a strong emotion and one can more easily move from hate to love because of the similarity of passion that is felt. Apathy is nothing. Apathy means no longer caring. Could apathy be the antithesis to the gospel of Love?
As we enter into this time of deciding who we each feel is the best candidate, the book of James tells us that apathy is not an option, especially if we are to be faithful Christians. In fact, James is pretty skeptical about the “outside” world in general, skeptical about those who claim one thing and when the votes are in, pursue nothing of the kind. James has a critique particularly important for people of faith in Western democratic nations such as the United States: Being a doer of the word is not simply voting for who you think can be the best doer of the word. If that is all we believe our faith requires of us, or our democratic responsibilities demand from us, then it is no wonder we become apathetic. I think when we vote our values, which is inevitable and something we should do, and expect that to be that, we wash our hands of any responsibilities of being more engaged doers of the word.
Apathy comes when we have our high hopes that things will change, that the word might be made manifest, that the poor in money and the orphaned in opportunity might be tended, and often…inevitably…our hopes are dashed. When our faithful response to a broken word is the simple action of voting on who we think should take care of the problem, is not only apathy to the political process, it is apathy in ourselves, and in our faith. It’s merely a response to what we hear, it is like looking into a mirror and seeing so clearly our own hopes in our elected officials and with one punch in the ballot box, we remove ourselves from the equation for another four years. We forget who we are to be as faithful doers of the word, and put our faith in solely in politicians. I believe that voting is important, but I don’t think it relinquishes us from the job that is yet to be done. And in finding even the smallest places that one can engage the hurting world is more than a hundred votes for the “right” candidate.
But, sigh, politics will remain politics and still an institution we must engage. But we can do it not by just hearing what the politicians are saying, but listening carefully to how their decisions and goals affect our world. We can step up and say--I am listening, and here I am to not be a leader of the world, but a servant to the world, to be a doer of the word, not simply a hearer, who watches the world spin out of control with tired resignation. Here’s the relationship I can rebuild, here is the new learning I can engage, here is the cause that needs more support, here is person who needs my encouragement, the movement that needs my energy.
Even in the midst of doing the word, we will be temped with apathy because the forces seem so much larger than us. “But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.” James encourages us to persist in doing the word because in every act we will bless the world, and every act that we decide not to do because what difference will it make anyway? it denies the world that small blessing that can cause transformation, more than any program, or policy, or political agenda can bring about. In his newest book The Great Awakening, Jim Wallis speaks about the need for what he calls a revival: “Revival is necessary, because just having a new and better political agenda will not be enough. Getting to the right issues isn’t enough. Having the right message isn’t enough. Finding the right program isn’t enough. The real question is what will motivate and mobilize the kind of constituencies that will move politics to change. I believe that will require the energy, power, and hope that faith can bring. People acting out of their best ideas and values is a good thing, but people acting out of their deepest wells of faith can be even more powerful.”
It may seem like we are jumping out of bed, awakened by voices calling us only to return back to bed confused, wondering, questioning our own sanity. But if we keep listening, keep responding, and keep preparing ourselves to serve God and those who need us, our energies will not be wasted. We will be part of a plan that will tingle the ears of the world, and the world will notice. “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves…But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.”
May it be so.
1 Samuel 3:1-20; James 1:19-27
Sermon by Carrie Eikler
Epiphany 2
When I was pregnant with Sebastian, Torin did the boldest, most loving thing any husband could do for his pregnant wife. He told me that anytime I had a craving—you know, the whole pickles and ice cream thing—anytime I had a craving, he would get me whatever I wanted. No matter if he had to trek all the way across town to get it, he would do it. Under one condition…I had to specifically ask for it. Now this might not seem like a big deal to you, but what Torin was trying to protect himself was my incessant tendency to be vague and say (whining) “I’m hungry…I want something sweet…or salty…or chewy…or crunchy.” He was not going to put up with ambiguity. He would help me figure out what I wanted, but he wasn’t going to do the guess work for me. And after all of that, you should know he only had to go out twice on a food run during the pregnancy. But, they did happen quite late at night, and I think I even had him get out of bed once to go to the supermarket to get me some “Hot pockets”…thankfully the store was right behind our house.
I wonder if it was with a similar loving duty that Samuel had for Eli that kept Samuel bounding out of bed at the various moments that he hears a voice calling his name. After all, the young priest in training Samuel did have obligation to attend to his elder and quite sight deprived teacher. Three times Samuel hears his name and assuming it is Eli, runs into his room, all-ready to accommodate whatever sweet or salty or chewy or crunchy need he may have…to only be turned away. It wasn’t Eli who had summoned him, but the voice of the Lord, something that Samuel wasn’t used to experiencing…something not many people were used to experience. Not in these times—these times were quite void of any hint of the Lord’s working, of people’s interest in communing with the Lord. Our story is set right away by describing the climate of Israel: “the word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.”
So Samuel probably just settled back on his mat in the temple, stretched, sighed, and closed his eyes one more time when he was summoned once more—but this time he was ready. Eli told Samuel that if it happened again, it was likely the voice of the Lord and he should respond, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” And the call of the Lord on Samuel’s life had begun. No longer was he simply hearing his name called, or hearing the words spoken by the priests above him, or even hearing the voices of those outside the temple who called out for money, or bread, or healing, or blessing. Now, Samuel began to listen, and God unfolds for him a vision that “will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.”
We are hearing a lot these days, aren’t we? Now, fully in the midst of presidential primaries there are many voices who are calling out to us, imploring us to see them as the best candidate to represent a particular party, the best candidate to lead our country. I have to say that I have been more interested in this election more than any other since I turned 18. And why not? We have a woman, a Mormon, a black man, a Prisoner of War, a peacenik, the former mayor of New York City, a man with a $400 haircut, a Southern Baptist pastor, and an actor. It certainly looks different than any election I have been a part of, which rightfully acknowledged is not all that many. And in some regards it might sound a little different than what I have heard in the last 10 years. But I wonder, in all that we are hearing, and there is a lot to simply “hear,” how does our “listening” make a difference to how we interpret and make these important decisions.
And the candidates know who are listening. Since the Regan Administration politics has sought to corner the Christian vote by appealing to Christian morals and ethics. Personal opinions on the separation of church and state aside, it is at least correct to say that we have seen the power that politics and religion have on influencing one another, and it’s not one that I feel I quite have a handle on. I strongly believe that the tenets of my faith direct me to see the world in a certain way and see the possibilities for addressing the world’s problems in a certain light which then translates into favoring certain political decisions. I think this is something everybody be they Christian or Muslim, Buddhist or Jewish, even atheists and secular humanists share: our ethics all come from somewhere close to us and we seek to live those out in the many realms of life, including the realm of our political citizenship.
Candidates know this. It’s not a partisan appeal, but part of a bi-partisan rhetoric. Historically Republicans have spoken more about faith and politics than Democrats, but in this race both sides are using religious talk and are hoping Christians are hearing what they say. Here are just some of the highlights made by presidential frontrunners (in alphabetical order, just to quell any accusation of priority)
Hilary Clinton – states that her Methodist faith has created in her a primacy of the golden rule which is something that encourages us to act. She has also quoted the book of James that states, faith without works is dead, and speaks often to the social messages of the gospels, and Jesus’ overwhelming concern for the poor and the marginalized
John Edwards – Southern Baptist/United Methodist who has been a bit more reticent about his faith, although publicly admits that a private faith is very important to him. He said “People are naturally skeptical of any politician who talks at length and openly about their faith, because they assume, just like with a lot of things, that they do it for political gain,"
Rudi Guiliani -Born and raised a Roman Catholic, he was educated in rigorous parochial schools, Giuliani says he even seriously considered becoming a priest "at least twice." But the thrice-married former prosecutor now declines to talk about his religious beliefs, calling them a private affair. However, on the campaign trail, he drops frequent references to the Almighty, even crediting God with preparing him to cope with 9/11
Mike Huckabee – a Southern Baptist Conservative with a Social Gospel inclination, he speaks of the inherent worth of each individual, which has led him to speak more about care of the poor than some Republicans. But he still carries his evangelical zeal on his sleeve: “When I first started running for office, a lady asked me, 'Are you one of those narrow-minded Baptist ministers who think only Baptists will go to heaven?'" He replies, "Actually I'm more narrow than that. I don't think all the Baptists are going to make it."
John McCain-raised an Episcopalian, he has for years attended a Baptist church in Pheonix. McCain is not baptized and claims that he is “not born again,” and describes himself as just a Christian. Nevertheless, he speaks of a deep faith in God that he credits with getting him through his toughest moments as a prisoner of war: During his imprisonment in Hanoi, "there were times when I didn't pray for one more day or one more hour, but I prayed for one more minute," he says. "So I have very little doubt that it was reliance on someone stronger than me that not only got me through, but got me through honorably."
Barrack Obama – a member of the United Church of Christ, Obama is the democratic candidate who speaks most about faith. He talks about becoming a Christian "…kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side of Chicago, I felt God's spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to His will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truth." He often speaks of being his brother’s keeper and what we do to the least of these. Incidentally, Obama recently had a smear campaign against him because of Islamic history in his family’s past.
Mitt Romney – Quietly, proudly Mormon, Romney has had to take the heat on his faith, particularly in light of many anti-Mormon incidents. In the same vein of Kennedy’s Roman Catholicism, Romney insists that a candidate shouldn’t be elected because of his faith, or not elected because of his faith.
Instead of being in a time, like Samuel, where the word of the Lord is rare and visions not widespread, it seems like now everywhere you look people are invoking the word of God, creating visions of bright and beautiful futures, of a country where the most faithful person will reign supreme. I try to listen to who I feel is actually professing what James speaks of: if their faith will promote a world in which the needy are cared for, where the marginalized are brought into the center, where care for each individual is paramount. But the difficult thing is, is that many candidates speak of these things. It’s not as if there is a clear front runner in the category of “doers of the word,” because all we have now are their promises, and we sit back and simply hear all these things and hope it all turns out for the best, we tentatively sit back and pray that whoever wins the race at least won’t mess things up too much.
I hear all these things, they way people promise change, which seems to be the catch word of this election. But honestly we have heard all these grandiose visions before. Which is the problem. Candidates have enticed me into their visions and I support them with my votes and I wonder: where is this better country, better world that is spoken of? Aren’t we supposed to see the clear visions of the Lord all around us? I don’t see the land of milk and honey around me, or even a glimpse of it coming in near future. I assume I will be hearing the same thing over and over in a different package, and I become apathetic to the process. In my apathy I don’t think it will make a difference who I vote for, because they will likely disappoint me anyway. I would love to think that I am alone in these feelings. But I bet I’m not alone.
I have often heard, and I’m sure you have too, that the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy. Hate is a strong emotion, just like love is a strong emotion and one can more easily move from hate to love because of the similarity of passion that is felt. Apathy is nothing. Apathy means no longer caring. Could apathy be the antithesis to the gospel of Love?
As we enter into this time of deciding who we each feel is the best candidate, the book of James tells us that apathy is not an option, especially if we are to be faithful Christians. In fact, James is pretty skeptical about the “outside” world in general, skeptical about those who claim one thing and when the votes are in, pursue nothing of the kind. James has a critique particularly important for people of faith in Western democratic nations such as the United States: Being a doer of the word is not simply voting for who you think can be the best doer of the word. If that is all we believe our faith requires of us, or our democratic responsibilities demand from us, then it is no wonder we become apathetic. I think when we vote our values, which is inevitable and something we should do, and expect that to be that, we wash our hands of any responsibilities of being more engaged doers of the word.
Apathy comes when we have our high hopes that things will change, that the word might be made manifest, that the poor in money and the orphaned in opportunity might be tended, and often…inevitably…our hopes are dashed. When our faithful response to a broken word is the simple action of voting on who we think should take care of the problem, is not only apathy to the political process, it is apathy in ourselves, and in our faith. It’s merely a response to what we hear, it is like looking into a mirror and seeing so clearly our own hopes in our elected officials and with one punch in the ballot box, we remove ourselves from the equation for another four years. We forget who we are to be as faithful doers of the word, and put our faith in solely in politicians. I believe that voting is important, but I don’t think it relinquishes us from the job that is yet to be done. And in finding even the smallest places that one can engage the hurting world is more than a hundred votes for the “right” candidate.
But, sigh, politics will remain politics and still an institution we must engage. But we can do it not by just hearing what the politicians are saying, but listening carefully to how their decisions and goals affect our world. We can step up and say--I am listening, and here I am to not be a leader of the world, but a servant to the world, to be a doer of the word, not simply a hearer, who watches the world spin out of control with tired resignation. Here’s the relationship I can rebuild, here is the new learning I can engage, here is the cause that needs more support, here is person who needs my encouragement, the movement that needs my energy.
Even in the midst of doing the word, we will be temped with apathy because the forces seem so much larger than us. “But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.” James encourages us to persist in doing the word because in every act we will bless the world, and every act that we decide not to do because what difference will it make anyway? it denies the world that small blessing that can cause transformation, more than any program, or policy, or political agenda can bring about. In his newest book The Great Awakening, Jim Wallis speaks about the need for what he calls a revival: “Revival is necessary, because just having a new and better political agenda will not be enough. Getting to the right issues isn’t enough. Having the right message isn’t enough. Finding the right program isn’t enough. The real question is what will motivate and mobilize the kind of constituencies that will move politics to change. I believe that will require the energy, power, and hope that faith can bring. People acting out of their best ideas and values is a good thing, but people acting out of their deepest wells of faith can be even more powerful.”
It may seem like we are jumping out of bed, awakened by voices calling us only to return back to bed confused, wondering, questioning our own sanity. But if we keep listening, keep responding, and keep preparing ourselves to serve God and those who need us, our energies will not be wasted. We will be part of a plan that will tingle the ears of the world, and the world will notice. “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers who deceive themselves…But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.”
May it be so.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Power of God
January 13, 2008
Psalm 29, Acts 10:34-43
Sermon by Torin Eikler
Epiphany 1
Every day that I come to the church during the work week, I unlock the office and turn on the lights and the computer. I check the phone for messages and deal with anything that can’t wait. I light a candle and the oil lamp that Carrie brought me from the Taizé monastery in France, settle into the arm chair, and read a devotion from one of our books and several Bible verses. Then, I get up again and I leave.
I leave the office and all the work there behind. Carrying the verses with me – sometimes just in my head and sometimes with a bible in my hand – I walk out the back door of the church (the one just behind the sanctuary there) and I spend some time in meditation. There is a little space there between the building and the neighbors’ yard that is carpeted in pine needles and bordered by tall hedge trees and ivy. In the summer it is warm and green and noisy with life and growth. In the fall, the color of the light changes as leaves turn colors and fall, and the sounds of life change as birds leave their nests behind and children return to school. In the winter, it is cold and stark, but the ivy never loses its color though it is sometimes covered by snow. I haven’t seen spring there yet, but I look forward to watching the buds open and discovering the sounds of nature waking from its sleep.
We all have our rituals – as different as we are different from one another. In the morning we may have breakfast with the paper, listen to our favorite radio show on the drive to work, or stop at the Starbucks where they know our name and fill our order without asking. In the evenings we may watch our favorite drama, relax with a book, or open mail and prepare for the next days’ work. And holidays, of course, are so full of ritual that we sometimes can’t find space or freedom to breath. This daily trip to the “back yard” is my ritual for finding peace and connecting with God in preparation for my day.
And, I am by no means the first person to find God in this way. People from the beginning of time have found nature inspiring. Native American traditions sent boys and men into nature on spirit quests to find the aspect of nature that most evoke the divine for them. Hermits, monks, and mystics from all religions have often chosen to live rough lives in the wilderness in order to commune with God. Our own tradition is filled with images of the power of God revealed in nature – from the creation stories of Genesis to Job’s encounter with the whirlwind and its recital of God’s might and from the rainbow’s promise to the plagues on Egypt. Even the disciples stood in wonder of the power of God as it stilled the storm. And Jesus, himself, often retreated to the wilderness to find renewal and inspiration in the midst of his ministry.
The Psalmists, too, are part of that tradition. Their writing is filled with images of fire and lightning, peaceful pastures and replenishing rains, wild beasts and timid deer and young lambs – all serving the will of the Lord. Most of us, at some time or another, have felt delight and awe as we gaze at immense mountains or intricate spider webs, and if we haven’t, it is only because we have not stopped to look at or listen to the world around us.
And yet… and yet, there is something that I find disconcerting about this hymn:
The voice of the Lord is over the mighty waters…
The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars…
The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire …
The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness …
The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl and strips the forest bare …
And in his temple all say, “Glory!”
This time, the Psalmist chose neither soothing, comforting metaphors nor inspiring images. Floods and whirlwinds and fires and earthquakes… These are the parts of nature that bring fear and destruction into the lives of those who happen to be in the way. I am much more comfortable with the God who comes in the small, quiet breeze than the God whose passing plunges the world I know into chaos….
In my first year of BVS, I worked for the Church of the Brethren disaster response directing a rebuilding effort on the island of St. John. Three quarters of the homes there were severely damaged by a hurricane. I saw people who were still living in tents or the equivalent with nothing but leaking blue FEMA tarps serving as roofs. They couldn’t afford to rebuild and there was virtually no help available for them. While I was there, another hurricane hit the island – the second in two years but only the third in a century. My volunteers and I were living in a concrete home with a “hurricane-proof” roof. We boarded up the windows, stocked the pantry and brought in gasoline for the generator. Even with all these preparations, water can in through the doors and windows where the winds it the house with the most force, and we ended up sweeping it all the way across the tile floor and out the door on the other side of the house. We only felt the edge of the storm, but its power knocked down hundreds of trees and changed the shape of the beaches. Exploring the island the day after the storm, I was overwhelmed with a sense of awe at the power of nature and the One who created it all.
In her book, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston describes another, much more terrifying experience of a hurricane. It happened in the late 1800s near Lake Okeechobee in the middle of Florida where Janie and her husband lived in a shack among the sugar cane field right in path of the storm.
“Sometime that night the winds came back… By morning Gabriel was playing the deep tones in the center of the drum. So when Janie looked out of her door she saw the drifting mists gathered in the west [to] arm themselves with thunders and march forth against the world. Louder and higher and lower and wider the sound and motion spread, mounting, sinking, darking.
It woke up old Okechobee and the monster began to roll in his bed. Began to roll around and complain like a peevish world on a grumble. The folks in the quarters and the people in the big houses further around the shore heard the big lake and wondered….
They huddled closer and stared at the door. They just didn’t use another part of their bodies, and they didn’t look at anything but the door. Through the screaming wind they heard things crashing and things hurtling and dashing with unbelievable velocity, [and] the lake got madder and madder with only its dikes between them and him.
The wind came with [again] with a triple fury, and put out the lights for the last time. They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes staining against the crude walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.”
And so it is…. As much as we prefer to think of God in terms that provide comfort and reassurance, there is no doubt that the power of God is clearly and terribly displayed in midst of the storms and upheavals that we call natural disasters. I do not understand why such disasters must touch the lives of so many people. No theologians that I have read have presented me with an adequate reasoning. And the explanation of pastors like Pat Robinson who claimed that New Orleans’ suffering was punishment for sinful living do not fit with what I know of the forgiving mercy of Christ. What strikes me, though, is the response of people who have lived through disaster, losing homes and loved ones. They most often offer thanks and praise to God for saving them rather than railing against God for their suffering. In their eyes, it seems, the power of God is more deeply and truly evident in the way she protects so much and so many from destruction. And, I think it is faith in that power that leads the Psalmist to raise a voice in praise to the God who sits enthroned over the flood and the wind and the fire and all the earth.
The power of God is wonderful and terrible. It called the universe into being out of the void. It raised a flood to wash it clean and brought life to the earth again. It raises mountains and gives birth to volcanoes. And yet it created and cares for delicate _________ and moths that float on diaphanous wings. It is the power of life and more. And beholding the wonders it cradles inspires us to offer praise and name its glory.
In faith, we worship the God who holds such power and that power becomes strength for us. We need not fear, for what power is greater than God’s? In Christ we have the gift of peace because we have been assured that the love of God is there to sustain us. Indeed, the love and power of God is a free gift to all, for as Peter’s words tell us, God shows no partiality.
The grace of peace and the freedom that comes from knowing that we are never without God is open to all. All we must do is embrace it. And when we do – when we find that peace and step into the freedom that comes with it, we are filled with strength and confidence. Our lives become more and more the lives that God intends for us to live, and we become the presence of Christ in the world, reaching out to others to offer them the love and grace that we have received.
May it be so.
Psalm 29, Acts 10:34-43
Sermon by Torin Eikler
Epiphany 1
Every day that I come to the church during the work week, I unlock the office and turn on the lights and the computer. I check the phone for messages and deal with anything that can’t wait. I light a candle and the oil lamp that Carrie brought me from the Taizé monastery in France, settle into the arm chair, and read a devotion from one of our books and several Bible verses. Then, I get up again and I leave.
I leave the office and all the work there behind. Carrying the verses with me – sometimes just in my head and sometimes with a bible in my hand – I walk out the back door of the church (the one just behind the sanctuary there) and I spend some time in meditation. There is a little space there between the building and the neighbors’ yard that is carpeted in pine needles and bordered by tall hedge trees and ivy. In the summer it is warm and green and noisy with life and growth. In the fall, the color of the light changes as leaves turn colors and fall, and the sounds of life change as birds leave their nests behind and children return to school. In the winter, it is cold and stark, but the ivy never loses its color though it is sometimes covered by snow. I haven’t seen spring there yet, but I look forward to watching the buds open and discovering the sounds of nature waking from its sleep.
We all have our rituals – as different as we are different from one another. In the morning we may have breakfast with the paper, listen to our favorite radio show on the drive to work, or stop at the Starbucks where they know our name and fill our order without asking. In the evenings we may watch our favorite drama, relax with a book, or open mail and prepare for the next days’ work. And holidays, of course, are so full of ritual that we sometimes can’t find space or freedom to breath. This daily trip to the “back yard” is my ritual for finding peace and connecting with God in preparation for my day.
And, I am by no means the first person to find God in this way. People from the beginning of time have found nature inspiring. Native American traditions sent boys and men into nature on spirit quests to find the aspect of nature that most evoke the divine for them. Hermits, monks, and mystics from all religions have often chosen to live rough lives in the wilderness in order to commune with God. Our own tradition is filled with images of the power of God revealed in nature – from the creation stories of Genesis to Job’s encounter with the whirlwind and its recital of God’s might and from the rainbow’s promise to the plagues on Egypt. Even the disciples stood in wonder of the power of God as it stilled the storm. And Jesus, himself, often retreated to the wilderness to find renewal and inspiration in the midst of his ministry.
The Psalmists, too, are part of that tradition. Their writing is filled with images of fire and lightning, peaceful pastures and replenishing rains, wild beasts and timid deer and young lambs – all serving the will of the Lord. Most of us, at some time or another, have felt delight and awe as we gaze at immense mountains or intricate spider webs, and if we haven’t, it is only because we have not stopped to look at or listen to the world around us.
And yet… and yet, there is something that I find disconcerting about this hymn:
The voice of the Lord is over the mighty waters…
The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars…
The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire …
The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness …
The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl and strips the forest bare …
And in his temple all say, “Glory!”
This time, the Psalmist chose neither soothing, comforting metaphors nor inspiring images. Floods and whirlwinds and fires and earthquakes… These are the parts of nature that bring fear and destruction into the lives of those who happen to be in the way. I am much more comfortable with the God who comes in the small, quiet breeze than the God whose passing plunges the world I know into chaos….
In my first year of BVS, I worked for the Church of the Brethren disaster response directing a rebuilding effort on the island of St. John. Three quarters of the homes there were severely damaged by a hurricane. I saw people who were still living in tents or the equivalent with nothing but leaking blue FEMA tarps serving as roofs. They couldn’t afford to rebuild and there was virtually no help available for them. While I was there, another hurricane hit the island – the second in two years but only the third in a century. My volunteers and I were living in a concrete home with a “hurricane-proof” roof. We boarded up the windows, stocked the pantry and brought in gasoline for the generator. Even with all these preparations, water can in through the doors and windows where the winds it the house with the most force, and we ended up sweeping it all the way across the tile floor and out the door on the other side of the house. We only felt the edge of the storm, but its power knocked down hundreds of trees and changed the shape of the beaches. Exploring the island the day after the storm, I was overwhelmed with a sense of awe at the power of nature and the One who created it all.
In her book, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston describes another, much more terrifying experience of a hurricane. It happened in the late 1800s near Lake Okeechobee in the middle of Florida where Janie and her husband lived in a shack among the sugar cane field right in path of the storm.
“Sometime that night the winds came back… By morning Gabriel was playing the deep tones in the center of the drum. So when Janie looked out of her door she saw the drifting mists gathered in the west [to] arm themselves with thunders and march forth against the world. Louder and higher and lower and wider the sound and motion spread, mounting, sinking, darking.
It woke up old Okechobee and the monster began to roll in his bed. Began to roll around and complain like a peevish world on a grumble. The folks in the quarters and the people in the big houses further around the shore heard the big lake and wondered….
They huddled closer and stared at the door. They just didn’t use another part of their bodies, and they didn’t look at anything but the door. Through the screaming wind they heard things crashing and things hurtling and dashing with unbelievable velocity, [and] the lake got madder and madder with only its dikes between them and him.
The wind came with [again] with a triple fury, and put out the lights for the last time. They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes staining against the crude walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.”
And so it is…. As much as we prefer to think of God in terms that provide comfort and reassurance, there is no doubt that the power of God is clearly and terribly displayed in midst of the storms and upheavals that we call natural disasters. I do not understand why such disasters must touch the lives of so many people. No theologians that I have read have presented me with an adequate reasoning. And the explanation of pastors like Pat Robinson who claimed that New Orleans’ suffering was punishment for sinful living do not fit with what I know of the forgiving mercy of Christ. What strikes me, though, is the response of people who have lived through disaster, losing homes and loved ones. They most often offer thanks and praise to God for saving them rather than railing against God for their suffering. In their eyes, it seems, the power of God is more deeply and truly evident in the way she protects so much and so many from destruction. And, I think it is faith in that power that leads the Psalmist to raise a voice in praise to the God who sits enthroned over the flood and the wind and the fire and all the earth.
The power of God is wonderful and terrible. It called the universe into being out of the void. It raised a flood to wash it clean and brought life to the earth again. It raises mountains and gives birth to volcanoes. And yet it created and cares for delicate _________ and moths that float on diaphanous wings. It is the power of life and more. And beholding the wonders it cradles inspires us to offer praise and name its glory.
In faith, we worship the God who holds such power and that power becomes strength for us. We need not fear, for what power is greater than God’s? In Christ we have the gift of peace because we have been assured that the love of God is there to sustain us. Indeed, the love and power of God is a free gift to all, for as Peter’s words tell us, God shows no partiality.
The grace of peace and the freedom that comes from knowing that we are never without God is open to all. All we must do is embrace it. And when we do – when we find that peace and step into the freedom that comes with it, we are filled with strength and confidence. Our lives become more and more the lives that God intends for us to live, and we become the presence of Christ in the world, reaching out to others to offer them the love and grace that we have received.
May it be so.
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