The Trinity

sermon by Carrie Eikler

Romans 5:1-5, Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31
May 26, 2013 (Trinity Sunday)

(I am also calling this sermon, "The one that was never preached".  Worship has a way of doing the following: you start late, there is great movement in the service, people are sharing, that hymn went longer than you expected, many prayer requests and perhaps a lengthier than usual pastoral prayer.  A beautiful, but long poem for the Peace Lamp.  And to top it off, I had an extremely long story to tell for the children's story.  Truth be told, I wrote a *bit* shorter sermon to compensate.  But by the time I got down on the steps with the kiddos there was only 15 minutes left in the "normal" time of the sermon.  So I decided on the fly to make the executive decision that the chlidren's story could stand on its own as a sermon, with a bit of improvisational commentary, and I told everyone there would be no "Carrie sermon" today.  I thought the fall out from THAT would be less than the fall out from the service going 20 minutes late.  And no, I've never done that before. 

 

So here it is "The one that was never preached".  In case you are interested, the children's book I read was called What a Truly Cool World by Julius Lester where God is assisted in creation by the angel Shaniqua and God's secretary, Bruce.  And it may be that I get up a video of this sermon (preached to an empty sanctuary, after the fact), but I can't figure out how to not have me "horizontal" so if you watch it, just close your eyes and listen, rather than turning your head and getting a crick in your neck)

 

One of the biggest changes our family has faced in this past year, as you can imagine, has been moving from a family with two kids to a family with three kids.  I don’t know how it appears to you all, but I feel we have made the transition rather well.  But I didn’t think that way when I found out we would be adding a little Eikler to our brood.

 

On the day I discovered I was pregnant, I wasn’t able to get to sleep that night (as you can imagine).  So in the middle of the night, I went to the trusted source of all information.  Google.  I googled the words “having 3 kids” because I really had no idea what I was going to do because I had felt completely exhausted by the first two.  Funny enough, I found a website called “Having 3 Kids” written by a woman who…has 3 kids.  She named it such because she discovered that when facing life altering situations, like me, most contemporary adults turn to Google.  And one of the most googled phrases when facing the arrival of third child was “Having 3 kids”.  So there you go.  Good name for a website

 

She has some great advice with just the right amount of humor.  But the best advice I ever had about having three children came from my mentor and collegue, Kurt Borgmann.   Kurt is the pastor of the Manchester Church of the Brethren in Indiana, and he and his wife Loyce have three kids.  He told me something to the effect: “With one or two kids, you can still convince yourself that you can do it all.  You can’t, but it’s easy to convince yourself you can.  When the third comes along, that goes out the window and you realize you just can’t be everything to everyone.”

 

I am a happier mom to 3 kids than I was with just one or two because of that advice: I can’t be everything to them, and they just have to deal with that.

 

Today is Trinity Sunday, when we celebrate the 3-in-1 nature of the divine as Christians understand it.  Or maybe…how we don’t understand it, but we celebrate that we try to figure it out anyway. 

I would love to hear how some of you have come to understand the nature of the Trinity, for I have never fully understood how the Trinity “works” or “exists”: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost or Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit.

 

 But after having 3 kids, I like to think that maybe God got some good advice from a friend.  Like Kurt was to me.  Like the angel Shaniqua was to God in the children’s story.

 

God the Father, or Mother, had that loving person who said “Hey God, you can’t do it all and the sooner you realize it the better off you will be” and somehow God decided that she or he had to do some changing. 

 

Somehow, God the Mother knew there would be far more talking to these children of hers than she could handle--a whole lot of hot air--so She took all that air and crafted the Holy Spirit to do some of that work for her, blowing it over the darkness before creation was even created, breathing into the muddy creation once it was formed.

 

Then God the Father took  a little of the divine playdough and molded this Jesus to show us how to live on earth and with our rowdy brothers and sisters.

Because we all know we only will really believe what we see,

because no one likes the hot air of their parent blown on them the whole time.

So just break it up a bit,

we’ll have some God in the flesh walking around on earth.

 

And that’s how I think about the Trinity today.  At this moment.

 

What, you were thinking something a little more theologically sophisticated?

 

I’m sorry to disappoint you!  Maybe you have struggled with the concept of the Trinity, and you know what, I think that is ok.  In fact, I think that is how the understanding of the Trinity actually came about. 

 

Because if you read through scripture,

nowhere does it say anything about the triune nature of God, explicitly.

There are suggestive verses such as Matthew 28:19 (where Jesus says to baptize in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) and 2 Corinthians 13:13 (where the Apostle Paul ends his letter by invoking a triune blessing).

 

 It’s clear through scripture there is worship of God, witnessing of Jesus, and, as we know from last week, a fiery experience of the spirit.  But it doesn’t really put them all together anywhere and say this is the nature of god.  Three-in-one. Triune.  Trinity.

 

 

In fact, it wasn’t until the Council of Nicea in 325CE that the Trinity was brought forward

as doctrine

 

But all of that aside,

it doesn’t mean that the Trinity holds no water.  Rather

the concept Trinity was formulated in the church as the community sought to understand

the meaning of the revelation of Jesus Christ.

How they tried to interpret what happened at Pentecost.

 

Now over time, I have moved a bit of in my positions on some religious issues.

I used to be very critical of anything

that was doctrinal and came from those ancient councils.

I would write it off as simply the creation of falliable humans

posited more for political gain and power over any real

religious devotion.

If it wasn’t in scripture then it was a fabrication.

 

I do still look with a critical eye at dogmas and doctrines,

but more for the fruits that come from them,

not because they were created by men (and yes, here I do mean it.  MEN).

 

Because while there was certainly politics involved,

I also believe in so many ways over time

Christians—and indeed all religions—just simply have to make things up

to understand them.

Humans create a narrative to understand their world

and most certainly they have to create a narrative to understand

or approach the divine mystery.

 

My mom sent me an article that looked at some studies done at

Princeton and Yale, at the science behind storytelling.

And specifics aside, what it comes down to

is that people understand hard-to-understand ideas better

when put into a story.

Bullet points?  Not so much.

Statistics and timelines?  Eh, not really.

But a story. 

Stories, these studies have shown, are the way of conveying information

that utilizes the most of our brains.

Our brains, in effect, are more active when we are hearing stories than receiving any other type of information.

 

So I can suggest to you that no, don’t think of the Trinity as

God suffering from multiple personality disorder rather

let’s look at it through…

 Jungian psychology

which talks about the masks actors would wear in

ancient Greek drama.

and so too God has multiple expressions of God’s essence.

 

Or…

 maybe I should tell you a story about when I was suffering from fear

in the NICU at the hospital when Sebastian was born, and had seizures
and we didn’t know what was wrong.
And then I can tell you the story about God, the Mother who takes
us in her arms in our suffering.

 

I could say, well,

maybe we think of it as St. Patrick told the ancient Irish

that God was one being with three parts
like this beautiful green Shamrock.

 

Or…

 maybe I should tell you a story
about when I stood up in front of my high school English class

when I was a senior and gave a report

against the death penalty (the only one in the class who thought such a thing),

 with sweaty palms and flutterby stomach.
And then I can tell you about the Christ who taught me to love
my enemies and do good to those who persecute you
and who said that flutterbys or no, you’ve got to find the courage

stand up for what you think is right.

 

I could say, don’t even question the Trinity.

It’s all mystery anyway, so let’s leave it at that.
It’s too complicated for you to understand
I could confound you and myself with terms such as “preceeding from the godhead”
“preexistent nature of…”

 

Or…I could tell you a story
about hope.

The story I’m living now.

The story we’re living now as a congregation and we can say

mystery or not, the Holy Spirit is breathing her

hopeful voice over us and I can’t explain it,

but I can sense it.

 

To me, to believe in the Trinity

means I am sensing a story that has been

crafted over time.
And that’s what makes it real to me.

It is a story that tries to bring God more fully

into our lives

into our hearts,

yes, even into our brains.

 

So maybe you’re someone who feels you’re a Christian

but can’t believe “all those things”: virgin birth, bodily resurrection, “TRINITY”

And that’s ok.

But I wonder if you start telling your stories
and enter deeper into these stories
and being aware of this story,

you’ll find yourself not necessarily believing it.

But sensing the truth within it.

 

May you begin sensing

even deeper, the power of

the Trinity

Who meets you

and gives you

grace, peace, and joy.

Creator, Christ, and Spirit.  Amen.

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They're Growing Up!

sermon by Torin Eikler
Acts 2:1-21     Genesis 11:1-9

In the beginning, I wasn’t so sure how it would work out.  But, who can argue with Her?  She is the End-all-and-be-all, after all, and when she gets an idea in her head, it’s impossible to change her mind.  So eventually I went along with it all.  What can you do? … And I have to say that it has turned out fairly well in the end.

 

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  I should probably start by introducing myself.  My name is Ruach … but you can just call me Ru.  I kind of like it without that “ch” at the end – short and soft and sweet.  Much more personable than what you usually call me.  Yep, you’ve met me before, and you know who I am; though you usually call me “Holy Spirit” which is too formal … (but at least it’s better than “Holy Ghost” – as if I’m dead or something).  I prefer Ru … (or Ruach if you must) ….

The “She” I’m referring to is, of course, Elohim – the creator.  You usually just call her “God,” and that’s okay.  She’s fine with just about any name you can come up with though she does get a bit tired of all those boy’s names.  At least “God” is gender neutral.  Anyway, …

As I was saying, I wasn’t too sure it was a great idea to do it all the way that she wanted to.  It wasn’t that I was against creating the world or that I questioned who and what she chose to populate it with.  Actually, I thought it was wonderful – all that diversity … color and shape … two legs, four legs, dozens of legs, … no legs … teeny tiny all the way up to pretty darn big.  She definitely has the creative flair, I’ll give her that!

No, it wasn't creation that I questioned.  What I questioned was the whole “giving free will to people” thing.  And it wasn’t that I was against it at all.  I was just a little nervous – I mean, it was already a lot of responsibility to care for the whole of creation.  I thought it might be better to let them – well … let you all get that under your belt before sticking you the challenge of making your own decisions and all the ambiguity that goes along with that.

At first, I was afraid that I was right to worry because it didn’t take long for the problems to start.  There was the whole forbidden fruit incident – which we handled fairly well (if I do say so myself); although I was a little uncomfortable with the pain of childbirth.  Consequences, after all, should fit the behavior, and I thought closing the way to the tree of life would be enough.  But, she said she knew what she was doing, so … (shrug).

Things calmed down a bit after that.  There were a lot of little things as you might expect (and a couple of big ones too).  The people were like little children - our children - playing with fire, and we tried to be patient as the people learned how to live together and control themselves.  Eventually, though, it just got to be too much.  They lost their way somehow, and our patience ran out. 

 

In the end, we felt that we had to give the world a good cleaning up.  It was hard to do that….  Neither of us came out of it feeling good.  And we decided that no matter what happened we would never do that again.  Besides, after a consequence like that we were pretty sure that Noah and his family would do better…, and they did … sort of.

It wasn’t that they went back to what they were doing before, thankfully.  They did learn that lesson.  But, they didn’t become perfect children either, and looking back, I shouldn’t have expected that.  They didn’t have the experience or perspective they needed to get it right on the first or the second … or the hundredth try.  … I’m getting ahead of myself again.

What happened was that those wonderful, creative, challenging people decided that they would build a tower.  Now, I have no problem with towers.  Neither does Elohim.  Towers are good.  They can remind people to look up … well to think “up” toward us.  That keeps them on their best behavior and might even open them up to thinking about their actions in a new light.  BUT, this tower was for a different purpose.  It was supposed to close them off.

They were worried – scared of the future, I guess – and instead of turning to us to reassure them, they decided to build this monstrosity so that they would not be “scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.”  They wanted to stick together which isn’t surprising, I suppose … after the flood. 

Normally we would be all for unity, but not like this.  This kind of unity seeks safety at all costs, and while that might sound like a good thing at first, it always backfires.  It would have separated the people from the rest of the world.  They would have been turning their backs on the one thing that we asked them to do – care for creation, and that would have killed them slowly... in spirit if not in body.

We couldn’t let that happen.  It would have been horrible for everyone.  So, I suggested that I go down among them.  I would remind them of their great charge of stewardship.  I would set them on the right path.  And everything would be fine.

But that wasn’t what She had in mind.  She recognized that they were still young-ish children as a whole, and they weren’t doing anything wrong, per se.  They were just scared.  So, She came up with an idea that fit the situation perfectly.  Instead of punishing them, She scattered them, and she confused their languages so that they would stay spread out – stay right where they needed to be to take care of the world.  Amazing ….  It’s no wonder we sometimes call her Wisdom.

After that we had high hopes.  The people went back to tending the land.  They had already discovered the value of unity (even if it was the wrong kind), and as they turned their creativity to improving life we imagined that maybe it wouldn’t be too long before they began to find their way toward a deeper harmony – a harmony that would put aside self-interest in favor of community.  So we waited … and waited … and waited.[1]

Hundreds of years passed, and they were still not there.  The promising start stalled out.  People began to turn their ingenuity toward amassing wealth.  They tried to make their own lives … their own communities … their own nations better at the expense of others’.  And, worst of all, our children began hurting each other – hurting and even killing.  We thought they were beyond that and it broke my heart to watch them fighting back and forth over the land that could have yielded an abundance sufficient for all of them if they would only take care of it … together.

Well, we couldn’t just let it go on and on.  We thought they might grow out of it on their own, but they seemed to be stuck.  It was too much to bear, and it was clear that they needed someone or something to get them straightened out.

 

And that’s when the Teacher spoke up.  I call the teacher now, but before all of this happened we just called him love.  The Greeks gave him the name “Christ,” and that’s what stuck.  Oh, he hadn’t been silent all this time.  Far from it.  He participated in every conversation, every decision we made, and everything we did from the beginning, and He’s probably the reason that we had Noah build that ark and why we sent Moses to the slaves in Egypt and spoke to all those prophets.  He always urged patience and mercy and forgiveness, and for that I am grateful.

The Teacher had an idea.  He wanted to try something new.  He wanted to go down to the people in person … as a person.  He was convinced that our children were ready, even eager to change, but they couldn’t understand what we wanted for them.  They didn’t know where to start.  They needed someone to show them, and they would learn better, He said, if that someone was a human – someone they could see and touch and relate to.

It sounded good, and everything else we had tried hadn’t worked as well as we had hoped.  So, we did it….  And it worked!  At least it worked better than anything else had.  Lots of the people got it.  They followed Him.  They listened to his teachings.

Not everybody was happily inspired though.  The Teacher made a lot of people upset with the way he was challenging generations of tradition and power, and after all of our struggles over the years, we expected that.  We were ready when the authorities decided to “solve” their little problem … ready to show them the one thing they never would have expected.  So, the Teacher died … and then came back.  And in between – in just three days – in the blink of an eye, most of his followers went back to their old lives. 

I have to admit … that was hard to take.  I had hoped that they were more committed than that – that the changes would stick, but I guess they didn’t really understand as deeply as I thought… or maybe they were just too scared that they might go the way of the Teacher….

Thankfully, some of them held on.  They didn’t understand all that well either, but they knew they had experienced something special - something that had changed them forever.  And so it was that they were gathered together trying to figure out what to do next when the Teacher went back.

He stayed with them for about a month then.  He reassured them.  He answered their questions.  He kept right on teaching them and preparing them to teach others, and eventually we felt that it was time to see if the teaching would really take – if they really understood about love and caring for others as much or more than for themselves.  So, the Teacher came back to us, and we watched ... and waited.  They didn’t hide away.  They didn’t put together a revolutionary army.  They didn’t go back to their old lives.  They lived together as a community, and they went out, day after day, proclaiming the good news that they had received despite the laugher and the threats, trying to convince the others that they could share in the joy if they wanted to.  We were all so proud of them.  Our children were starting to grow up!

After ten days, we were convinced that they were on the right track, but it seemed like they still needed a little help.  It wasn’t that they were doing anything wrong, but there were so few of them, and the rest of the people mostly ignored them.  They needed something to make them stand out of the crowd and to reassure them so they didn’t get discouraged and give up.  So, I went down to stay with them, encouraging them, helping them to share their story with others, guiding them down better paths, and reminding them from time to time that the good news was for everyone, not just their family.

They did a wonderful job – everything that I hoped they would do, and when their time to walk the earth was over, others took up the mantel and kept right on sharing about love and compassion and self-less caring.  I came to them too (children can always do with some looking after, after all), and I was just as proud of them as I was of those first few.

 

And I am just as proud of you.

You know, there have been many times over the past two thousand odd years that I have watched people wander.  There have been times when they have listened to me and come back toward the path we wish they would take and other times when they ignored me no matter how big a splash I made.

But you… gathered in your own little room and wondering what to do next … you found your way back to the path.  I was there.  I saw it all happen … helped it happen, but in the end I didn’t have to do much.  No strange languages, no visions, not even any tongues of flame … none of that was part of your Pentecost.  You didn’t need it.  Just the tiniest nudges and you came back to the right kind of unity and caring for creation.

I am filled with pride.  I am filled with hope.  And I am so excited to see what you come up with as you grow into the future … so honored that I get to share in what comes next.

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[1] Fretheim, Terence E. “The Book of Genesis: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections” in The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, Volume I (Abingdon Press, Nashville) 1994.  413-14.

Beasts, Blood, and Butterflies

Beasts, Blood, and Buetterflies
sermon by Carrie Eikler
Rev 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21
May 12, 2013 Easter 7

Many of you are familiar with the author Barbara Kingsolver.  Some of her more well-known books include the Poisonwood Bible and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  In her most recent novel, Flight Behavior,[i] we peer into the lives of a family and community struggling through the rainiest winter in memory.  Sheep farmer Dellarobia Turnbow lives on a wooded hill that unexpectedly becomes the winter hibernation grounds for millions of monarch butterflies.  The weather chaos has disrupted the butterflies’ normal migration pattern.  

Ovid Byron is a scientist who arrives at the farm to study the phenomenon unfolding before them, and he sees a dire future for the species.  He says ‘I am a doctor of natural systems, and this looks terminal to me.”  At first Dellarobia disagrees and is fascinated by the beauty of the scene.  She says “I just can’ t see it being all that bad.”  But by the end of the novel, Dellarobia understands the science of climate change and realizes the presence of butterflies on her hill—while amazingly beautiful—means that she is in effect, living on a different planet.

Barbara Rossing, a professor at Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, compares the scientist in Flight Behavior to John of Patmos, the author of the Book of Revelation.  She says “both help people see that it is, in fact ‘all that bad’.  John of Patmos is also a “ ‘doctor of natural systems’” she says.  “He diagnoses the entire Roman imperial system as monstrous, even Satanic, as it devours peoples and the whole of creation with its predatory economy.  Yet unlike Byron,” she continues, “John has a twofold project as a doctor: he diagnoses the situation as terminal, and then he gives people the medicine—a vision of hope”[ii]

So let me step back and say

“a vision of hope” is not

how I have usually approached the Book of Revelation.

 

In fact, since childhood, I pretty much
avoided the Book of Revelation.
If it wasn’t scaring me with the images of the end of the world

(as I was sure it was talking about)
it was disgusting me with images and blood and warfare
disturbing me with language of whores and beasts.

 

Honestly I have not given Revelation much attention because it seemed to me

one of the most easily manipulated texts in the Bible

a text used to manipulate people, political situations, and religious sentiment.

 

And that, I guess,

is why I decided I should preach on it.

 Last December when- for the first time-

Torin had to step in for me and read one of my sermons

because I was too sick to preach

One of you told him:

“now remember, this is Carrie’s sermon.  You have to proclaim!”

Well, friends, I will warn you,

I’ll start off not proclaiming much

as this text has been a test of my own faith,

and theological understanding,

 and sermon writing capabilities.

 

So, here I go: let me try to teach you about Revelation.

(I may get into some proclaiming in a little bit)

 

John of Patmos, likely not the same John as the apostle, the author of the gospel

is writing letters to seven Christian congregations in the Roman Empire.

Given the content of the letters, John was likely a Jewish Christian from Palestine.

 It is likely that John would have baulked at the contemporary notion

that Revelation should be read as a guide to the future,

some sort of coded prediction of what will happen

to bring an end to this world
(we have all probably come across someone who
lines up the events on the evening news
alongside the events in Revelation, attempting
to convince us that, indeed, the end is near).

If we see Revelation as a prediction of terrifying events,

then Revelation remains obscure and malleable
to the political and social views of the reader.

But, as David Barr points out,

“Revelation was not a fanciful dream of far-off events; it was a practical attempt to deal with some of the most pressing problems besetting Jesus’ followers in the late first century.”[iii] 
One of those problems—a major problem in fact—was the dilemma of living in an imperial society.
Living within the Roman Empire.
Living—and prospering—in the Roman Empire.
Living, and prospering, and benefiting from Empire.

I don’t usually say this in a sermon, but I’ll say it today:

If you take anything away from my sermon, please take this
It’s my opinion that the book of Revelation is a call to the end of the Roman Empire.
The Book of Revelation is not a prediction about the end of the physical world

Now, most scholars knew that John was critiquing Rome in his unearthly metaphors.
But an enduring interpretation was that the newly formed Christian church
was facing imperial violence from Rome.
The violence that crucified their Messiah

But historians are showing that that is not necessarily the case.

There is little evidence that shows Roman persecution of Christians
in the late first century (when Revelation was written).[iv]
So it is likely that John is not writing Revelation out of threat of violence against the church…

Rather…
those Christians to whom he was speaking were

comfortably adapting to the Roman empire.
They were, perhaps, happy in it.
They participated in the economic prosperity,
taking opportunity to equate their wealth with status in the empire.

As Barr notes: “For these Christians (to whom John was writing)

the problem is not that social conditions are too threatening.
Instead the issue is that life is so comfortable that it has diminished the vitality of their faith.”

But…

Before we write Revelation off as something we don’t need to be concerned about
because we don’t live in the Roman Empire,
let me remind you.

That we do live in Empire.  Not the Roman Empire, of course.

But it is clear that there is an American Empire.
Yes, my friends, I will proclaim that: We live in the American Empire.

An empire that uses military power to secure its economic interests.

An empire where poverty is merely a consequence to the free market
An empire where cultural superiority is broadcasted though worldwide median
An empire that disseminates a narrative of American exceptionalism

We, like the church John is writing to, live in Empire.

And we benefit from it.
 We, at least those here, for the most part prosper from it.
We may critique it in Sunday School and over the dinner table,
but truth be told, we live and appreciate the luxuries (that we may have come to call necessities)
the luxuries of Empire

At the end of the day

we might be a little disconcerted with it,
but we are definitely, comfortable with our Empire.
(and lest you think I am taking myself out of the equation and pointing fingers at you all
I most certainly am not.  I am comfortable.  Very comfortable)

Now, beasts and blood are not the ways

to get our attention to these evils.
But maybe butterflies are.
Butterflies living where they shouldn’t be.

We know that a consequence of this empire lifestyle

as pointed out by those butterflies in Kingsolve'rs book
is the destruction of God’s creation.
This is the end times prophecies that we can actually see.
This is what is shifting us, however frighteningly, into an apocalypse.
Made by us.
And can be changed by us.
If we act quickly
and have courage.

At our congregational retreat last month

we decided that there are two things our congregation should focus on.
The first is Christian community.  We do that well.
Our worship, fellowship, mutual care and concern are of highest priority
to this gathered body.

Another priority is Caring for Creation.

As Brethren and Mennonites we are rooted in values of
simple living and service to humanity and to God’s creation.
Within our congregation we have
farmers, gareners, mountain advocates.
Wildflower walkers, mushroom hunters and nature photographers.
Bicyclists and washer women of cloth diapers.

We have children whom we adore and we know that all the Sunday School lessons
in the world will mean nothing if there is not a future
for them to put these lessons into practice

and pass on the faith

Christian Community and Creation Care.

These are our priorities.
This is what we will give our faithful energy to.
And in this way, we will live into John’s hope
as obscure as it may be in the Book of Revelation.
John’s book ends, if you remember from the scripture reading today
with an invitation, it’s almost liturgical:

The spirit and the bride say come

Let everyone who hears say come.
And let everyone who is thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes to take the water of life as a gift.
Amen.  Come, Lord Jesus!

As one theologian in our Sunday School videos suggested

what congregations have to offer the world
in light of the environmental crisis
which is an apocalypse of our own making,
what we offer is a community where people belong
a place where materials and goods creation need not be consumed
in order to find worth and joy and meaning.

So in fact, our priorities are more connected that we might see at the outset

our deepening of Christian Community is our response to
Caring for God’s Creation.
Caring for Creation will be amplified and encouraged and more clearly lived out
as we deepen Christian Community

When we find meaning in relationships—with God and other people—

our vision sharpens.  We see our lives, our world, and our place in it
in new ways
We become a community that calls people out of Empire
into a new life.

A new earth.  A new heavens.

A new creation.  A new being.

So we will continue living in Empire.

And benefiting from it
and yes, even enjoying what we get from it.

But together, as a community,

we can learn how to resist
how to embrace
how to be the invocation of John into a new world.

 

Let everyone who hears, say come.

Let everyone who is thirsty come.

Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.

Amen.  Come, Lord Jesus!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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[i] published by Harper, 2012.

[ii] “Reflections on the lectionary” The Christian Century, May 1, 2013

[iii] “John’s Ironic Empire,” Interpretation A Journal of Bible and Tradition. January 2009, Vol 63. No.1

[iv] Koester, Craig.  “Revelation’s Visionary Challenge to Ordinary Empire” Interpretation A Journal of Bible and Tradition. January 2009, Vol 63. No.1

Can We Do It?

sermon by Torin Eikler
John 14:23-29      Acts 16:9-15

When I was on staff with Brethren Volunteer Service, I had the privilege of meeting many incredible people.  Some of them were the volunteers themselves, and others were the resource people that joined us for our three week orientations.  Generally, they spoke about the difficulties that might be faced in the field, but there were always one or two who came from programs that host volunteers to help us think more deeply about the issues that underlie many of the problems that the young people were heading out to “fix.”

One of those resource people who joined us was Cliff Kindy.  Some of you may know Cliff (or know of him) already.  He is fairly outspoken and quite well-known in some circles – Church of the Brethren and otherwise.  Cliff has done many amazing things in his life.  He chooses to live below the level of taxable income in order to avoid supporting the military.  He and his family live by intensively gardening about 2 or 3 acres.  And he has been very involved as an observer with Christian Peacemaker Teams.  That means he goes to places where there is a lot of tension between people who feel they are oppressed and the governments that control those areas and lives among the people in order to share what is really happening with the rest of the world.

During one of his sessions, Cliff shared the story of his most recent trip to Palestine.  As I remember it, he had been there for several days accompanying Palestinians whose homes were being demolished to make room for new Settlements, and had watched many confrontations between the farmers and Israeli soldiers. 

One evening about a week into his stay, he was sitting with a family that was trying to stop the bulldozers by staying in their home 24-7, and an argument broke out between a group of soldiers on patrol and one of the older sons.  Things escalated from bitter words to yelling and then to threats.  Eventually, one of the soldiers backed the young man against a wall with his rifle.  As the two continued to shout insults at each other, Cliff stepped between them so that the gun was touching his own chest.  That caught the soldier off guard, and he and his compatriots left after a more yelling and insults – this time directed at Cliff.

When he finished his story, the volunteers were completely silent for a time.  Then there were some little questions, and we finished up.  Later that evening as we were sharing about the day, some of the volunteers told us how they felt completely inadequate after hearing Cliff share.  They didn’t feel like they were up to the challenge of facing down guns.  As one person put it, “He made it sound so natural … so easy, but I don’t think any of us could do it.”

 

The words of Jesus are equally challenging: “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words ….”  It was not the first time he said that, and the implied command is clear: love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action.  It’s following Jesus’ teaching and example. But what, exactly, does that mean?

It’s easy to speculate by going back to the Sermon on the Mount or any other specific teachings (and even easier to avoid the issue by speculating), but I think it’s relatively clear when you look for the heart of it. Jesus commands that we serve one another.  Just as Jesus washed his disciples feet and cared for the poor, the sick, and the outcast, so he expects us to serve each other.  And he goes further.  He commands that we love another … that we even love another as Jesus loved us … even to the point of giving our lives for others.

Talk about a challenge … and daunting challenge at that.  But no matter how daunting that is, at least there is also a promise in Jesus’ words.  Jesus says that the Father will love those who keep Jesus’ word, and that Jesus and the Father will come and make their home with them.  And not only that, but Jesus promises the disciples (and us) that we will receive a peace the world cannot give.

The question is … are they connected… or, rather, how are they connected?  Do we only get the promise if we keep the command?  And if so, what chance do we have?  Who among us is really able to live up to those expectations?  Whenever I think about even trying, the words of the volunteer at that orientation echo in my head, “He made it sound so natural … so easy, but I don’t think any of us could do it.”

 

It often seems convenient and logical to distinguish between and even separate Jesus’ commands and promises, but I wonder if Jesus made that distinction.  I think he probably didn’t.  He doesn’t seem to have been the type to make God’s grace contingent on success.  He never seems to have done that – to have separated the blessing and the promise from the challenge and the work in his teachings.  He certainly didn’t in his own life.   And in this passage, I think they are all bundled up, wrapped together, as it were, in a speech that was intended both to instruct and comfort the disciples Jesus was about to leave (in the story) and the disciples who struggle to be faithful after his departure (both in the story and today).  No, I don’t think it was the if-then of a contractual relationship.  I think it was the both-and of covenantal relationship.

More than that, I think Jesus was describing the spiraling feedback loop.  I think he was encouraging the disciples by trying to help them see that “as [they] kept Jesus’ commands [they] received his promise, and as [they] received the promise [they] were equipped to keep the commands.”[1]

So what does that mean? ….  Because people like Cliff don’t just start off by stepping in front of semi-automatic weapons to protect people that they only met hours before.  It begins with small things – little steps toward people instead of away from them … little choices to love rather than hate or even ignore … little acts of selflessness (or “sacrifice” if you prefer to use that word).  We only get to the point of risking that much after we have practiced on small things … and moved on to slightly bigger things … and then to medium things … and so on.

It begins with smiling at people who seem to be a little bit sad.  It begins with patiently teaching small, rambunctious children.  It begins with inviting people in to our congregation and our homes and helping them feel welcome.  As we walk that path – the path of love, we find ourselves growing accustomed to loving, and it gets easier to take more steps on the journey … to love more freely.  AND, … I think … that when you stop and think about it, you’ll find that you’re already pretty far along the path….

 

I want to invite you now to share a memory of one of those times when you have followed Jesus’ call to love someone or experienced someone else loving you in a way that sought to follow Jesus’ command and example.  Take a minute or two to find one of those moments and then turn to someone nearby and share it with them … and listen to them share their own memory.  We’ll just be taking a few minutes each.  So, you don’t have to be too elaborate, and if you can’t think of anything in particular, just listen.

(sharing)

I wanted you to have the chance to share those thoughts because we tend to spend a lot of time and energy studying the gospels and trying to live up to the teachings and example of Christ … and that’s wonderful.  But, we also tend to think of that as the only example we have.  We tend to let the rest of the New Testament fall by the wayside a little bit.  That’s unfortunate because Acts and the letters are full of examples of people like us … people who are just trying to do their best to follow, usually without the benefit of having known Jesus.

I’m not talking about the big names; although if you follow the career of Peter or Paul, you can see that they started small, too – small being a relative term.  I’m thinking of people like Lydia.  She was an ordinary woman.  Well … perhaps not so ordinary for her time.  She was a merchant which was uncommon for a woman at the time.  Aside from that, she was not so different from you and me … just an everyday, run-of-the-mill believer.  And, when she decided to follow Jesus, she didn’t do any extraordinary things.  She didn’t receive ecstatic visions.  She simply reached out in love to offer the hospitality of her household to Paul and his companions.

One small step down the path of keeping Jesus’ word.  One small step that on the journey of discipleship.  One small step down the road to peace….  One small step that any one of us could take.

It doesn’t seem so daunting when I look at it that way.  When I think about it like that, it does seem simple.  I can look back and see times when I have shared love in those simple ways … and sometimes in bigger ways, and I realize that I can do it … I already have done it.  I certainly have a long way to go and the journey will never be easy … not truly, but if I take it in small steps … if I trust that each one of those steps prepares me for the next one … if I live that way, I can keep Jesus’ word of love…  And so can you.

That doesn’t mean it’s always easy.  There are times when I get discouraged … times when I have failed spectacularly … times when I feel like I’m just so far from where I should be that I want to give up.  And I’m sure that you feel that way too.

So, I have a song to share with you for those times.  It’s the song that another resource person at the orientation shared.  He sang it into the silence that settled around that campfire after the young man shared.  It goes like this….

He-ya ho-ya he-ya-a,

He-ya ho-ya he-ya-a.

I am a wise man.

I am a loving man.
I am a healer.
My soul will never die.

I am a strong woman.

I am a loving woman.
I am a healer.
My soul will never die.

He-ya ho-ya he-ya-a,

He-ya ho-ya he-ya-a.

You can repeat it and add in anything that you want to.  Just remember to leave in the part about loving and healing, and you'll be alright.

 

 

I sometimes sing that to Patrick when I’m trying to get him to sleep at night.  And I wonder if he’ll grow up feeling more confident in his ability to love as Jesus teaches because when I sing it to myself in those hard times it reminds me of what I can be – what I am.  It encourages me, and I come away feeling, once again, like I can do it.

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[1] David Lose, http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2557,