Congregational Council Meeting meditation
by Carrie Eikler
Luke 10:1-3
One of the side effects of pregnancy that isn't as universally known as pickles and ice cream cravings, or hormonal mood swings, is the side effect of sleeplessness. Now this hasn't been too big of a problem for me at night, but it has affected one of my most coveted and highly protected times of my day. Sebastian's naptime.
The equation is simple. Sebastian sleeps, I can sleep. Ask Torin. If I have to miss my naptime with Sebastian, ergo missing my naptime all together…ooo, you better watch out.
My sleeplessness has been hitting me at these important times. Lying in bed after lunch I might snooze five minutes but then I'm awake, staring at the ceiling. This isn't all bad, because it means I've caught up on some reading I've been meaning to do. As I lay in bed, refusing to get up and do something "productive," I force myself to continue resting and read. My most recent book is one that I've been meaning to read since it came out last year. Do you ever read one of those books that when you are done, so much of your life is filtered through what you've just read?
Well, that book for me has been Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, a nonfiction book about the author's attempt with her family to eat only produce and meats that were grown within a 100 mile radius of her Virginia farm. Most of this food came from their own garden, and the rest supplemented by farmer's markets and other local economies. It was an experiment in becoming "locavores."
Now you may not have heard of a locavore, and where they rank with the more common carnivore, and omnivore, and herbivore. A locavore is a new word that has recently been coined, and actually was voted 2007 Oxford Dictionary word of the year. Locavores are people who try to eat as locally as possible. Kingsolver's attempt to be as “locavorious” as possible brings to her reader's attention the impacts of our current industrial food model on our environment, our relationships, and our health. She also uplifts the joys and challenges of reconnecting a disconnected people with the earth, and the satisfaction of enjoying one's own food.
As I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in tandem with preparing for a meditation for today's worship, I came across the perfect scripture. Actually, I came across the perfect scripture that was misquoted by Kingsolver. She reflected on the bountiful harvest season of mid-summer: "By mid-month, we were getting a dozen tomatoes a day, that many cucumbers, our first eggplants, and squash in unmentionable quantities. A friend arrived one morning as I was tag-teaming with myself to lug two, full bushel-baskets of produce into the house. He pronounced a biblical benediction: 'The harvest is bountiful and the labors few.’ I agreed, of course, but the truth is, I still had to go back to the garden that morning to pull about 200 onions — our year's supply…The harvest was bountiful and the labors were blooming endless."
Knowingly or not, Kingsolver's friend, while perhaps aptly surveying the situation, said that "the harvest is bountiful and the labors few." Well, as we have heard this Lukan scripture read today, as Kingsolver's exasperation indicates, and as all of us who have done the work of the church, or the work of the garden, or the work of any good cause can attest to…the harvest is certainly bountiful, but it is the laborers, that are few, not the labors. The labors are many. The labors are overwhelming. The labors are…laborious.
When I told both Cindy Lewellen and Torin what our scripture was going to be today, they both laughed. I'll admit, it is sort of funny to bring to the business meeting of a small congregation the scripture of Jesus sending out seventy newly appointed disciples into the world, like lambs into the midst of wolves. But I don’t mean for it to be funny. I don't mean to just say that there is much work to be done and not enough of us to do it. I don’t mean to just say that even though there are few laborers, God sends us out into the harvest anyway. I don’t mean to just say those trite little interpretations.
I mean to say all of that… and. I mean to say that the complexity of a ministry in a world in which there is so much that needs to be done, so much that can be done, so many more places to reach out to than our energy, and numbers, and money can support…all of that, it is not unique to us.
When Jesus sent out the seventy, two by two, he admitted this was the way. If you want to do my work, it won't be easy. Jesus sent each pair out to the towns that he himself would go. They were meant to pave the way, to prepare the people, to give a glimpse of what was to come.
It can seem like the way would be easier if we were a bigger church with more members, more money, more recognition. But I bet that even the biggest churches, with thousands of people, and huge popularity, aren't content that they are doing all they could do. I bet that each individual here, wonders what more they could do, and also wonders where they will get the energy and time to do it.
The harvest is bountiful, and the laborers few. I don't think it's meant to be a fatalistic prediction-that somehow we can keep trying and trying and the work will never be done. But it does call us to know ourselves, to know our harvest, to know our laborers. And it does call us to ask the Lord of the harvest to send us out into the fields.
Our laborers are not the same as another church's. The harvest is plentiful, but perhaps the field is different. What works for the industrial organic growers of California who will send their produce 1500 plus miles across the country will not work for the small gardens of the West Virginia hillside that supply the farmer's market.
The harvest is bountiful, and the laborers few. It is not a prediction, but an understanding. God understands who we are, and what we have to work with. And God says that doesn't matter. What matters, is how we are going to give a glimpse of Good News. It's not a matter of numbers, either membership or monetary. It's a matter of doing the work we are each called to do, with the vision and abilities and means we each have.
It’s about letting the little ones dig up the potatoes, and the tall ones stretch up to get the highest pole beans. It’s about surveying our harvest, surveying ourselves, and asking how can we do this the best we can. Some onions may be left to rot in the ground and some tomatoes may never be canned. But we keep going back out into the harvest, learning more about who we are, and how we can be the most faithful laborers for the work of God that we can be…being faithful stewards of God’s harvest.
The harvest is bountiful, and the laborers few. It’s not a resignation. It is an invitation. It is now time for us to respond to the invitation as we ask ourselves “what is our field?” “who are our laborers?” “what can we give?” The answer doesn’t need to be spectacular or far reaching. It only needs to be honest, and faithful.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Boiling it Down
sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 22:15-22 I Thessalonians 1:1-10
Last week Carrie spoke to us all about the nature of community and its importance in the life of people of faith. I suspect, however, that most of us remember it as a sermon about money, and that’s not surprising given our general reluctance to speak about our own income and spending habits and the current climate of fear surrounding economic issues. In fact, a recent survey conducted by the American Psychological Association quantifies, to a degree, America’s absorption with finances. Fully 80% of us acknowledge that we are stressed out about the economy and our personal finances. Half of us are worried about how we will provide for our families’ basic needs or the stability of our employment. 52% report laying awake at night worrying about these issues, and two-thirds of Americans find themselves generally angry or irritable all the time.
The news is full of the wide swings of the stock market, and people seem to be unusually well informed about the successes and failures of the $700 billion bailout strategy. Just last Friday, Carrie and I were at dinner on the way to the Allegheny Conference Pastor-Spouse retreat, and I overheard the conversation at the table behind us. The multigenerational group was talking about the credit market, dwindling retirement funds, and the challenges of living with $4 gasoline. Not surprising, you think? But it is surprising. We may have gotten used to this type of conversation, but six months ago – even two months ago – these kind of conversations were not put on the table along with our hamburgers and chicken parmesan. They may have been common place at the lunch tables of financiers and investors, but I truly doubt that they were a regular part of any of our lives at any time.
Money, it seems, has found its way to the center of our lives and our conversations in a way that it hasn’t been before for most of us.
Of course, money has probably been at or near the center of our lives all along if we’re honest. It has just been hidden in midst of other issues. Carrie and I have often discussed how much of our income we want to designate for savings or giving. And the relative amounts we want to spend on gifts or travel or entertainment was a regular part of our lives – from the annual budget planning we do to our vacation decisions and all the way up to our daily decisions about what to buy at the grocery store. Others, I know, have to balance the cost of activities for our children, our cable subscriptions, and the temperature we choose for our thermostats. What has changed is that money has moved out of the shadows and into the open. No longer content just to be present, it has taken center stage at the coaxing of Wall Street investors – a group of people always looking for a new way to make money – and the government bureaucrats who work at balancing their effect on the overall economy.
Another time in another place, money was put on the center stage by another odd pairing – Herodians and Pharisees. These two groups were usually at odds with each other. The Herodians were content to work with the occupying government of the Romans whatever they were asked to do – as long as there was something in it for them. The Pharisees were concerned much more with doing and saying the right things whether that was in keeping with Roman preferences or not. You can imagine that each group probably looked down on the other and the way of life they had chosen.
Jesus, however, had become enough of a phenomenon among the Jewish people that were an integral part of both the Herodians and the Pharisees respective interests. His message and mission were interfering with the balance of power in upsetting ways. And that, it seems, was enough to get these two groups working together in order to protect the status quo.
The solution they came up with was ingenious. Ask Jesus a difficult question in front of the crowds that followed him and force him to take a dangerous (perhaps even deadly) position. “Teacher, … tell us … Is it lawful to pay taxes to the Emperor, or not?”
The question was perfect. If Jesus said “yes,” he would be allying himself with the Herodians (and most of the people for that matter) in conflict with some of the teachings of Jewish tradition. In that case, his religious orthodoxy and his authority to teach “the way of God in accordance with the truth” could be questioned by the Pharisees. If, on the other hand, he said “no,” he would be taking the righteous road advocated by the Pharisees, but he would also be openly defying the empire. The Herodians could then denounce him as a dangerous traitor seeking to start a rebellion, and he would probably be imprisoned or exiled (and maybe even executed).
Not a bad strategy actually. But, as usual – at least according to the Gospel of Matthew – Jesus found a way out of the trap … and not just any way. The answer Jesus gave not only avoided both pitfalls, it turned the tables on both groups, challenging the assumptions and compromises they had made in order to survive under the occupation.
“Give [to] the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,
and to God the things that are God’s”
(or in the more familiar King James version,)
“Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s,
and unto God the things that are God’s.”
When I was in high school in N. Manchester, I had a very intelligent but also fairly sheltered friend. And, when we were discussing this passage in youth group one Sunday, he shared that he had never really understood what it meant. “What,” he asked to a good deal of undeserved laughter, “did paying taxes have to do with making glue?” You may think that a strange question, but it really does make sense. My friend had spent all of his life living not too far from a rendering plant, and his only reference for the concept of rendering was the processing of animals into glue and other useful products. Once he learned that “render” also means “give” (as the newer translation makes clear), he quickly understood and took our discussion to a deeper level with another question: “but doesn’t everything belong to God?!”
What it all boils down to, you see, is a simple question of faith and perspective. God, our God, is the creator of all of this world. The beginning and the end of all things. The Alpha and Omega as some eloquent poets put it. In a very real sense – perhaps the most real sense – doesn’t everything belong to God?
That is the question that spoke into the minds of the men who sought to catch Jesus in a trap. That is the question that sent them walking away from him in amazement pondering the answer and what it might mean for them – finding within themselves, I hope, the courage and honesty to acknowledge that “Yes” is the answer to that question asked by my astute friend and implied by Jesus’ own answer.
From that perspective things begin to take on a different look – both the things that make up our lives and the things that we accumulate during them. It all belongs to God, and our task as followers of Christ is to find ways to use those things which have come into our possession – talents, knowledge, and energy as well as money – according to our best understanding of God’s will. And that is not always as easy as it sounds.
We have spent our whole lives, most of us at least, learning a different path from our parents and our society. We have learned a work ethic that keeps us going, going, going … always seeing new things that need to be done. That, in itself, is not bad thing though it can become dangerous for us if we lose the ability to relax and retreat, finding some quiet space within ourselves to commune with God and listen for guidance and inspiration for our living. That same work ethic tends to bring us a certain amount of wealth with is not a bad or evil thing either. But money brings its own challenges. We have been taught that we need it for security and happiness, and no matter how much we know that isn’t true, it is so very hard to let go of our hold on it. As Jesus once said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” And, do not fool yourselves. We are all rich.
We have so much wealth surrounding us that we never really feel that way. Survey after survey tells us that people in America tend to think that life will be easier and they will be happier if they just have 10% more – give or take a bit. But, we have much more than we need.
There are people in this country whose personal wealth is greater than most of the countries in the world. There are more who own more than one home, and most of us have homes that are much bigger than we really need for comfort, let alone survival. Even having the means to own and operate a car places us on a level far above that of about 93% of the people living in this world. And yet, we still feel, somewhere within us, that somehow we need more. Somewhere along the way – a long time ago, I think – we have lost a true sense of what is enough. And, given the way that we look to money to make our lives better and happier, we have clearly put our faith in wealth as much as, if not more than, we have in God.
Now please hear me, I do not say all of this to inspire guilt. Nor am I seeking to take a position as somehow “holier than thou.” Sadly, I am as caught up in the desire for more as any of you with my dreams of flat-screen TVs, hot tubs, and travel to far away places. It is simply true that we are all struggling to hold onto the right perspective and to place our faith in the right place. And that is truly a very difficult thing to do. Even Peter, the rock of the church, despaired when he heard Jesus’ judgment on the rich young ruler, and his words echo the frustration in our own thoughts – or at least mine. “Who, then, can be saved?”
Yet, Jesus response echoes down the ages as well, offering hope: “for God, all things are possible.” If we put our faith in God, then we can find a way forward out of the grip of desire and back into the kingdom of peace, justice, wholeness – and enough. Easy words to say, I know. Much harder words to live as all of us can attest.
It’s such a big thing. How do you do it? Where do you look for a place to begin? What would such a life even look like? I don’t know, but wiser people than I have told me that we can start anywhere.
What, for example, is enough? I recognize, as do we all, that it is not really possible for anyone to live on a few dollars a day in this place at this time. The United States is just too expensive a place and too harsh an environment to live on so little. So, what do we really need to provide shelter and food and health care for ourselves? Is $30,000 dollars a year enough? $45,000? $60,000?
I realize that different circumstances present different needs, but let’s take a family of four – two adults and two children – as an example. Currently, a 3-bedroom home with 2 bathrooms in Morgantown would require at least $8,500 a year in mortgage payments, assuming there was no down payment. The average cost of utilities adds about $3,000. Reasonable health insurance can easily cost $12,000 if it’s not provided by an employer. Food for four, healthy food even, can be had for about $11,000 a year but lets say $15,000 just to be safe. And the cost of owning and operating a vehicle to get to work and food (though I realize that there are other ways to get around) would be about $10,000 give or take a couple thousand.
That puts us at about $50,000. I think we could probably get by on less pretty easily if we were pressed to do so. Many of us probably live quite comfortably on less than that. $50,000 per year is a lot of money. $30,000 is a lot of money for many people in the United States.
What would happen if we limited ourselves to living on no more than $50,000 per year or its equivalent value in benefits? Certainly many of us would have to make some choices about what things and activities to give up. We might have to move to smaller homes, and we may even have to move closer to where we work and shop. But, think about what we could do with the extra money we have left over.
If just two families had an extra $3,000 that they decided to give to the church, we could double our witness budget. If a few of us made an extra $20,000 to put toward a special project, we could make a very good start toward becoming accessible for people who have difficulty with steps. If one or two of us had even more left over, what amazing ministries could we start or support? What messages of peace, love, and justice could we offer to the community? What dreams would come to us as we listened for our part in God’s dream for the world? And, what would the example we make of our lives and our faith community speak into a world that has lost touch with enough.
We could do so much to support each other and work for compassionate justice in the world if we committed to a spending ceiling and dedicated the rest of our money to the dream of God’s Realm. The money wouldn’t even have to come through the church. It could go anywhere and it would change the world. And it doesn’t have to be just our money either. Our gifts and our time are equally important if harder to quantify.
I know that it is never easy to change well learned habits in our lives, and how we deal with money is one of the hardest of all because we put so much faith in it. Yet, in the end, it all boils down to the question faced by the men who challenged Jesus some 2000 years ago – a question we still face today: do we put our faith in money, talent, education, hard work, and all that they can accomplish, or do we put our faith in God and all that God has promised us?
Matthew 22:15-22 I Thessalonians 1:1-10
Last week Carrie spoke to us all about the nature of community and its importance in the life of people of faith. I suspect, however, that most of us remember it as a sermon about money, and that’s not surprising given our general reluctance to speak about our own income and spending habits and the current climate of fear surrounding economic issues. In fact, a recent survey conducted by the American Psychological Association quantifies, to a degree, America’s absorption with finances. Fully 80% of us acknowledge that we are stressed out about the economy and our personal finances. Half of us are worried about how we will provide for our families’ basic needs or the stability of our employment. 52% report laying awake at night worrying about these issues, and two-thirds of Americans find themselves generally angry or irritable all the time.
The news is full of the wide swings of the stock market, and people seem to be unusually well informed about the successes and failures of the $700 billion bailout strategy. Just last Friday, Carrie and I were at dinner on the way to the Allegheny Conference Pastor-Spouse retreat, and I overheard the conversation at the table behind us. The multigenerational group was talking about the credit market, dwindling retirement funds, and the challenges of living with $4 gasoline. Not surprising, you think? But it is surprising. We may have gotten used to this type of conversation, but six months ago – even two months ago – these kind of conversations were not put on the table along with our hamburgers and chicken parmesan. They may have been common place at the lunch tables of financiers and investors, but I truly doubt that they were a regular part of any of our lives at any time.
Money, it seems, has found its way to the center of our lives and our conversations in a way that it hasn’t been before for most of us.
Of course, money has probably been at or near the center of our lives all along if we’re honest. It has just been hidden in midst of other issues. Carrie and I have often discussed how much of our income we want to designate for savings or giving. And the relative amounts we want to spend on gifts or travel or entertainment was a regular part of our lives – from the annual budget planning we do to our vacation decisions and all the way up to our daily decisions about what to buy at the grocery store. Others, I know, have to balance the cost of activities for our children, our cable subscriptions, and the temperature we choose for our thermostats. What has changed is that money has moved out of the shadows and into the open. No longer content just to be present, it has taken center stage at the coaxing of Wall Street investors – a group of people always looking for a new way to make money – and the government bureaucrats who work at balancing their effect on the overall economy.
Another time in another place, money was put on the center stage by another odd pairing – Herodians and Pharisees. These two groups were usually at odds with each other. The Herodians were content to work with the occupying government of the Romans whatever they were asked to do – as long as there was something in it for them. The Pharisees were concerned much more with doing and saying the right things whether that was in keeping with Roman preferences or not. You can imagine that each group probably looked down on the other and the way of life they had chosen.
Jesus, however, had become enough of a phenomenon among the Jewish people that were an integral part of both the Herodians and the Pharisees respective interests. His message and mission were interfering with the balance of power in upsetting ways. And that, it seems, was enough to get these two groups working together in order to protect the status quo.
The solution they came up with was ingenious. Ask Jesus a difficult question in front of the crowds that followed him and force him to take a dangerous (perhaps even deadly) position. “Teacher, … tell us … Is it lawful to pay taxes to the Emperor, or not?”
The question was perfect. If Jesus said “yes,” he would be allying himself with the Herodians (and most of the people for that matter) in conflict with some of the teachings of Jewish tradition. In that case, his religious orthodoxy and his authority to teach “the way of God in accordance with the truth” could be questioned by the Pharisees. If, on the other hand, he said “no,” he would be taking the righteous road advocated by the Pharisees, but he would also be openly defying the empire. The Herodians could then denounce him as a dangerous traitor seeking to start a rebellion, and he would probably be imprisoned or exiled (and maybe even executed).
Not a bad strategy actually. But, as usual – at least according to the Gospel of Matthew – Jesus found a way out of the trap … and not just any way. The answer Jesus gave not only avoided both pitfalls, it turned the tables on both groups, challenging the assumptions and compromises they had made in order to survive under the occupation.
“Give [to] the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,
and to God the things that are God’s”
(or in the more familiar King James version,)
“Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s,
and unto God the things that are God’s.”
When I was in high school in N. Manchester, I had a very intelligent but also fairly sheltered friend. And, when we were discussing this passage in youth group one Sunday, he shared that he had never really understood what it meant. “What,” he asked to a good deal of undeserved laughter, “did paying taxes have to do with making glue?” You may think that a strange question, but it really does make sense. My friend had spent all of his life living not too far from a rendering plant, and his only reference for the concept of rendering was the processing of animals into glue and other useful products. Once he learned that “render” also means “give” (as the newer translation makes clear), he quickly understood and took our discussion to a deeper level with another question: “but doesn’t everything belong to God?!”
What it all boils down to, you see, is a simple question of faith and perspective. God, our God, is the creator of all of this world. The beginning and the end of all things. The Alpha and Omega as some eloquent poets put it. In a very real sense – perhaps the most real sense – doesn’t everything belong to God?
That is the question that spoke into the minds of the men who sought to catch Jesus in a trap. That is the question that sent them walking away from him in amazement pondering the answer and what it might mean for them – finding within themselves, I hope, the courage and honesty to acknowledge that “Yes” is the answer to that question asked by my astute friend and implied by Jesus’ own answer.
From that perspective things begin to take on a different look – both the things that make up our lives and the things that we accumulate during them. It all belongs to God, and our task as followers of Christ is to find ways to use those things which have come into our possession – talents, knowledge, and energy as well as money – according to our best understanding of God’s will. And that is not always as easy as it sounds.
We have spent our whole lives, most of us at least, learning a different path from our parents and our society. We have learned a work ethic that keeps us going, going, going … always seeing new things that need to be done. That, in itself, is not bad thing though it can become dangerous for us if we lose the ability to relax and retreat, finding some quiet space within ourselves to commune with God and listen for guidance and inspiration for our living. That same work ethic tends to bring us a certain amount of wealth with is not a bad or evil thing either. But money brings its own challenges. We have been taught that we need it for security and happiness, and no matter how much we know that isn’t true, it is so very hard to let go of our hold on it. As Jesus once said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” And, do not fool yourselves. We are all rich.
We have so much wealth surrounding us that we never really feel that way. Survey after survey tells us that people in America tend to think that life will be easier and they will be happier if they just have 10% more – give or take a bit. But, we have much more than we need.
There are people in this country whose personal wealth is greater than most of the countries in the world. There are more who own more than one home, and most of us have homes that are much bigger than we really need for comfort, let alone survival. Even having the means to own and operate a car places us on a level far above that of about 93% of the people living in this world. And yet, we still feel, somewhere within us, that somehow we need more. Somewhere along the way – a long time ago, I think – we have lost a true sense of what is enough. And, given the way that we look to money to make our lives better and happier, we have clearly put our faith in wealth as much as, if not more than, we have in God.
Now please hear me, I do not say all of this to inspire guilt. Nor am I seeking to take a position as somehow “holier than thou.” Sadly, I am as caught up in the desire for more as any of you with my dreams of flat-screen TVs, hot tubs, and travel to far away places. It is simply true that we are all struggling to hold onto the right perspective and to place our faith in the right place. And that is truly a very difficult thing to do. Even Peter, the rock of the church, despaired when he heard Jesus’ judgment on the rich young ruler, and his words echo the frustration in our own thoughts – or at least mine. “Who, then, can be saved?”
Yet, Jesus response echoes down the ages as well, offering hope: “for God, all things are possible.” If we put our faith in God, then we can find a way forward out of the grip of desire and back into the kingdom of peace, justice, wholeness – and enough. Easy words to say, I know. Much harder words to live as all of us can attest.
It’s such a big thing. How do you do it? Where do you look for a place to begin? What would such a life even look like? I don’t know, but wiser people than I have told me that we can start anywhere.
What, for example, is enough? I recognize, as do we all, that it is not really possible for anyone to live on a few dollars a day in this place at this time. The United States is just too expensive a place and too harsh an environment to live on so little. So, what do we really need to provide shelter and food and health care for ourselves? Is $30,000 dollars a year enough? $45,000? $60,000?
I realize that different circumstances present different needs, but let’s take a family of four – two adults and two children – as an example. Currently, a 3-bedroom home with 2 bathrooms in Morgantown would require at least $8,500 a year in mortgage payments, assuming there was no down payment. The average cost of utilities adds about $3,000. Reasonable health insurance can easily cost $12,000 if it’s not provided by an employer. Food for four, healthy food even, can be had for about $11,000 a year but lets say $15,000 just to be safe. And the cost of owning and operating a vehicle to get to work and food (though I realize that there are other ways to get around) would be about $10,000 give or take a couple thousand.
That puts us at about $50,000. I think we could probably get by on less pretty easily if we were pressed to do so. Many of us probably live quite comfortably on less than that. $50,000 per year is a lot of money. $30,000 is a lot of money for many people in the United States.
What would happen if we limited ourselves to living on no more than $50,000 per year or its equivalent value in benefits? Certainly many of us would have to make some choices about what things and activities to give up. We might have to move to smaller homes, and we may even have to move closer to where we work and shop. But, think about what we could do with the extra money we have left over.
If just two families had an extra $3,000 that they decided to give to the church, we could double our witness budget. If a few of us made an extra $20,000 to put toward a special project, we could make a very good start toward becoming accessible for people who have difficulty with steps. If one or two of us had even more left over, what amazing ministries could we start or support? What messages of peace, love, and justice could we offer to the community? What dreams would come to us as we listened for our part in God’s dream for the world? And, what would the example we make of our lives and our faith community speak into a world that has lost touch with enough.
We could do so much to support each other and work for compassionate justice in the world if we committed to a spending ceiling and dedicated the rest of our money to the dream of God’s Realm. The money wouldn’t even have to come through the church. It could go anywhere and it would change the world. And it doesn’t have to be just our money either. Our gifts and our time are equally important if harder to quantify.
I know that it is never easy to change well learned habits in our lives, and how we deal with money is one of the hardest of all because we put so much faith in it. Yet, in the end, it all boils down to the question faced by the men who challenged Jesus some 2000 years ago – a question we still face today: do we put our faith in money, talent, education, hard work, and all that they can accomplish, or do we put our faith in God and all that God has promised us?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Investing in Each Other
sermon by Carrie Eikler
Philippians 4:1-9
Exodus 32:1-14
I don’t know about you, but I have been very interested in the past couple of weeks in catching the presidential and vice-presidential debates. I didn’t see the first one, since Torin and I were in New Windsor for the BVS anniversary reunion. But I have to admit, the Thursday of the vice-presidential debate a few weeks ago, it was what I looked forward to all day. I couldn’t wait to sit down, turn on the radio and just hear what happened.
Perhaps I was wondering if Joe Biden could control is often rambling discourse, or wondering if Sarah Palin would do something dreadfully embarrassing. I admit, I listened with relish to see how each candidate might mess up, put a foot in their mouth, or not answer the questions with lots of diversions, “you betchas” and references to Scranton, Pennsylvania. Quite a cynical attitude, I’ll admit.
But this last Tuesday, when Barack Obama and John McCain debated, I listened more intently for the content, especially to the questions that came from the audience in the town hall style meeting. And while issues of foreign policy, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and climate change were all addressed, it was clear that what was on people’s minds hit immediately and close to home: the economy.
The very first question was this: "With the economy on the downturn, and retired and older citizens and workers losing their incomes, what's the fastest, most positive solution to bail these people out of the economic ruin?" And the second question wasn’t much different.
To give the often spoken and certainly cliché response that the candidates gave during the debates: these are difficult times we are living in.
Torin and I have been reflecting, like many recently, on how the economy is affecting us. Luckily we live in a parsonage that you have provided for us, so there is no worry of the mortgage crisis affecting us, or the church for that matter since the house is paid for. We certainly have rethought our driving habits, particularly how many visits we can make to family who live far from us. We're wondering how much to spend on Christmas gifts…
But, honestly I don’t know what our pension through the church is looking like, or the state of my IRA that my dad keeps putting money in to even though I’m working, just because he knows we don’t “make all that much,” or the state of our small investments in mutual funds. So, maybe we take fewer trips to Black Bear Burritos or Apple Annie’s, but other than that, I feel pretty oblivious to the economic affect on our family.
Maybe I don’t see it because there was a wide safety net knitted for us by our parents. Perhaps because Torin and I have chosen to live a relatively simple lifestyle. Perhaps I’m just naïve and trust that the future will come and all the habits that I’ve cultivated up to now will help support me. Perhaps I’m far better off than I want my humble self to admit.
Wow, is that weird for you to hear all that? It was sort of weird to say it all. But hey, in two weeks you are all going to have in front of you our church budget which includes voting on our salary and benefits. Since you all know how much is coming to us, I might as well share with you some of the places it goes. If I were to ask you how the economy is affecting you, to stand up in church and share with those around you, or to ask you to put your annual salary on the table for everyone here to see, what would you do?
I’ve enjoyed listening to National Public Radio’s segment on Sunday called “Soapbox” where people write in with reflections on how the economy has affected them. As I reread through the stories online, I wondered how those of us here might connect with these people’s stories.
One woman wrote: “How has all this affected my life? It has forced me to live more simply. Gas prices forces me to stay closer to home. I'm saving more/spending less. With my home value down, there's no equity in my home, forcing me to pay cash for all the maintenance an equity line usually helps to pay. I also have 2 daughters currently in college -- they are totally dependent on student loans, so I'm concerned if they will be able to continue....I hope after the election is over the US economy will start to stabilize itself and we can begin the climb out of this mess that greed and arrogance put us.”
Or how about this one: “The downturn is more subtle and more gradual for me. I retired in 2000. According to several projections, my wife and I had enough saved to live to 100. Two years later, we needed to die by 90. Three years after that it was 85. Now it's 83 and we're not that far away. Where are you when we need you, Dr. K? (I’m assuming he refers to Dr. Kevorkian, the man who advocated medical assisted suicide)… We're really sick at heart over the Paulson Plunder and the Bush Bailout…How could our supposed representatives have fallen for this pathological liar once again?”
Do you notice a pattern here? They begin, as many did, with the reflection on how the economy has affected them, some more drastically than others, and they end with anger and accusations, likely properly aimed, at Wall Street, the White House, and our representatives. It's a common story of sacrifice, fear, and greed.
It would be ridiculous to assert that the economy is NOT affecting us in our congregation. Perhaps the only way we will see it among us is by examining our offerings, especially as we each discern how our families will contribute to next year's budget. It is also inaccurate to say that is affecting us all in the same way. Some of us are feeling it harder than others. Some of us might have small worries. Some of us might have sleepless nights. Looking out at you all, I can't say who is who.
But I think it is accurate to say that how it affects us is not something we want to share with our faith community. And why is that? Maybe it’s because money is not considered an appropriate topic for church, except when we ask it from you during offering and as we approve the budget. Perhaps because money so intertwined with our identity that to put the topic out for discussion is a little too personal.
Maybe it is like this story on Sunday Soapbox that solicited a huge response. Melissa Parker and her husband, like many young couples, bought a $285,000 home with an adjustable rate mortgage. And now they are in dire straights. Along with their regular bills of health insurance, utilities, fuel for two cars, and student loans, they are at risk of losing their house that is now worth approximately $135,000 less than when they bought it. Melissa Parker said they didn’t factor in the cost of home owners insurance, sewage, property taxes, all the things that go into home ownership. “And” she said, “We just ignored how horrible of a loan we were actually getting.”
Now when she shared her story, there were few responses blaming Wall Street, or the White House, or Congress. Most of the responses sounded like this: “I'm sorry the lady in Sacremento may lose her home; that said though...What the heck did she expect! Who in their right mind would buy a $285,000 home before they paid off student loans etc? Get real. Too many folks with no business getting home loans are crying now because they may lose them. Tuff. That's how a market adjusts.”
Here’s another response. “The Parker's sound like typical materialistic yuppies that want to impress with their stuff. Now they are paying the price. Sooooo sorry.
This was my favorite response. “Mrs. Parkers story was amazing. I really couldn’t understand two college educated people not realizing that you had to add in the cost of your taxes, insurance and utilities when you are thinking about your house payment.. Americans have come to believe that it is their right to own a home whether they can afford it or not and by goodness, they are going to do it no matter what and right now. I don’t expect to be too badly affected by this. I sold my home in 2006… I can rent far better than I ever owned…I drive my 20 yr old Mercedes that only cost $2500 cash and never breaks. We have no credit cards at all and neither of us ever have.... We live within our means..... I cannot imagine being in the kind of debt Mrs. Parker and her husband are in."
Hmm. So why don’t we talk about our personal economic issues in church or with others in our congregation (unless, of course, they are family members)?Perhaps with the finger pointing at Wall Street speculators, deregulating politicians, etc. we worry that someone might point a finger at us. Maybe it’s partially my fault for enjoying eating out so much, or being dependent on my car, or buying a house I really can't afford. Maybe I already feel both like a victim and a greedy spendthrift, and don’t want anyone else to remind me of either position
If we are honest we fear we might receive responses like those responding to Melissa Parker. Judgments. Tisk-tisking of the tongue. Let's face it, Brethren and Mennonites as well as other socially-conscious people of faith who have traditionally prided themselves on simplicity and non-materialism are not often the most understanding people when it comes to middle class woes, even though most of us tend to suffer from them.
But before we start wondering who is living within their means and who isn’t, it may be well to remember that all of us are living beyond our means. No matter if you can make your mortgage payments. No matter if you never drive and bike all around. No matter if you share one job with your spouse and try live simply so you can raise your child yourself. No matter if you grow your own food. As we have been exploring in Sunday School class, if you are American you have a golden calf.
It’s not too clear why the Hebrew people built a golden calf. Perhaps out of desperation. Perhaps out of boredom. Perhaps out of good intentions, but bad motivations.
Perhaps after reading this story in Exodus, we might worry that not only is our church family and neighbors judging us, but God.
In our case, could God be saying to Moses, “Go down at once! Your people, whom you built up from humble beginnings, have been quick to turn from me! They purchase unatainable mortgages for huge homes they don’t need! They live their lives on credit! They make gods out of their cars! Now, get out of the way as I smite them with economic crisis, predatory lending schemes, and unemployment!”
Now whether or not you see God as a being who works this way, I bet you wish there was a Moses in our midst who could change God’s mind, as he did with the Hebrew people, or at least change the outcomes of what has been happening. We are now forced to confront what we do with this golden calf in front of us.
Today many Churches of the Brethren are recognizing World Mission Sunday, where we reacquaint ourselves with the call to continue Jesus’ work by joining in God’s mission in the world. It seems to me that in our case, we are far more eager to look to the rest of the world as a receptacle of our service and money, and less likely to look among us. And I don’t mean in our town. I mean look at the needs of those of us sitting in the pews.
Do we know one another’s needs? Do we know the financial hardships that some of us are facing? Who has anxiety over loans, mortgages, 401 Ks? Who is living on beans and rice, not because More with Less is their favorite cookbook and they decided to become vegetarian and it’s what they want to eat, but because their grocery money includes only must haves. Who doesn't have health insurance and is anxious about the upcoming cold and flu season? Do you know? Or rather, do you really want to know?
Or perhaps, a simpler question: How many here have had another person or family in this congregation over for a meal at their house in the last year? And I don’t mean your immediate or extended families. As we gathered around the communion table last Sunday, perhaps the next step for becoming the body of Christ—among us—is to gather around each other’s kitchen tables once and a while.
Now I’m not suggesting we go to each person’s house with all our financial records and lay them out on the table. But I am suggesting that by finding those ways to connect with one another, to be closer to one another than on this pew and that pew, then maybe we can do more to build up our faith community than any number of Sunday worships can do. When we really start to know each other, when we know more about each other than what we feel is appropriate for church.
Obviously worship is a place to join together and praise God and we hope, be spiritually fed. I like how the Eugene Peterson’s translation in the The Message conveys day’s text from Paul: “Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! 6-7Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
But Paul doesn’t just say rejoice and pray. He continues on, again in Peterson’s translation “Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.”
In these small communities that Paul was supporting it is clear that he had a vision of building the kingdom of God. Maybe that’s the difference between the faith community and all the other communities we are a part of. Here we can work for what is true among a small group of people. We can share what we have, based on relationships, not on guilt. This can be the practice ground for creating the kind of world that Jesus spoke of, this can be the place where we are intentional about crafting the kingdom, as idealistic and anti-capitalistic it may sound: where we can all confess our golden calves, where God's will is done, and debts are forgiven…or at least debtors are helped along by the faithful.
Because let’s face it, the world is a big place. There are many needs out there that we have all been committed to. But we are about, what, 80 people? If we aren’t taking care of one another, how can we take care of the world out there? Are you willing to invest in each other? Are you willing to have someone over, even if they live in another part of town, even north of the state line, and just see what happens when you extend the communion table to the kitchen table?
And if we think that money isn't an appropriate topic to speak about with our church family, then we are ignoring a huge part of Jesus' words. Jesus talked about money more than He did Heaven and Hell combined. Jesus talked about money more than anything else except the Kingdom of God. 11 of 39 parables talk about money. One out of every seven verses in Luke's gospel is about money. Money is a faithful topic of conversation.
Are we willing to be that vulnerable? Are we willing to take what we have learned and received and heard from the good news of Jesus and try a novel experiment? It is as simple as it is courageous: Get to know one other. It may be one of the best investments you will ever make.
Philippians 4:1-9
Exodus 32:1-14
I don’t know about you, but I have been very interested in the past couple of weeks in catching the presidential and vice-presidential debates. I didn’t see the first one, since Torin and I were in New Windsor for the BVS anniversary reunion. But I have to admit, the Thursday of the vice-presidential debate a few weeks ago, it was what I looked forward to all day. I couldn’t wait to sit down, turn on the radio and just hear what happened.
Perhaps I was wondering if Joe Biden could control is often rambling discourse, or wondering if Sarah Palin would do something dreadfully embarrassing. I admit, I listened with relish to see how each candidate might mess up, put a foot in their mouth, or not answer the questions with lots of diversions, “you betchas” and references to Scranton, Pennsylvania. Quite a cynical attitude, I’ll admit.
But this last Tuesday, when Barack Obama and John McCain debated, I listened more intently for the content, especially to the questions that came from the audience in the town hall style meeting. And while issues of foreign policy, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and climate change were all addressed, it was clear that what was on people’s minds hit immediately and close to home: the economy.
The very first question was this: "With the economy on the downturn, and retired and older citizens and workers losing their incomes, what's the fastest, most positive solution to bail these people out of the economic ruin?" And the second question wasn’t much different.
To give the often spoken and certainly cliché response that the candidates gave during the debates: these are difficult times we are living in.
Torin and I have been reflecting, like many recently, on how the economy is affecting us. Luckily we live in a parsonage that you have provided for us, so there is no worry of the mortgage crisis affecting us, or the church for that matter since the house is paid for. We certainly have rethought our driving habits, particularly how many visits we can make to family who live far from us. We're wondering how much to spend on Christmas gifts…
But, honestly I don’t know what our pension through the church is looking like, or the state of my IRA that my dad keeps putting money in to even though I’m working, just because he knows we don’t “make all that much,” or the state of our small investments in mutual funds. So, maybe we take fewer trips to Black Bear Burritos or Apple Annie’s, but other than that, I feel pretty oblivious to the economic affect on our family.
Maybe I don’t see it because there was a wide safety net knitted for us by our parents. Perhaps because Torin and I have chosen to live a relatively simple lifestyle. Perhaps I’m just naïve and trust that the future will come and all the habits that I’ve cultivated up to now will help support me. Perhaps I’m far better off than I want my humble self to admit.
Wow, is that weird for you to hear all that? It was sort of weird to say it all. But hey, in two weeks you are all going to have in front of you our church budget which includes voting on our salary and benefits. Since you all know how much is coming to us, I might as well share with you some of the places it goes. If I were to ask you how the economy is affecting you, to stand up in church and share with those around you, or to ask you to put your annual salary on the table for everyone here to see, what would you do?
I’ve enjoyed listening to National Public Radio’s segment on Sunday called “Soapbox” where people write in with reflections on how the economy has affected them. As I reread through the stories online, I wondered how those of us here might connect with these people’s stories.
One woman wrote: “How has all this affected my life? It has forced me to live more simply. Gas prices forces me to stay closer to home. I'm saving more/spending less. With my home value down, there's no equity in my home, forcing me to pay cash for all the maintenance an equity line usually helps to pay. I also have 2 daughters currently in college -- they are totally dependent on student loans, so I'm concerned if they will be able to continue....I hope after the election is over the US economy will start to stabilize itself and we can begin the climb out of this mess that greed and arrogance put us.”
Or how about this one: “The downturn is more subtle and more gradual for me. I retired in 2000. According to several projections, my wife and I had enough saved to live to 100. Two years later, we needed to die by 90. Three years after that it was 85. Now it's 83 and we're not that far away. Where are you when we need you, Dr. K? (I’m assuming he refers to Dr. Kevorkian, the man who advocated medical assisted suicide)… We're really sick at heart over the Paulson Plunder and the Bush Bailout…How could our supposed representatives have fallen for this pathological liar once again?”
Do you notice a pattern here? They begin, as many did, with the reflection on how the economy has affected them, some more drastically than others, and they end with anger and accusations, likely properly aimed, at Wall Street, the White House, and our representatives. It's a common story of sacrifice, fear, and greed.
It would be ridiculous to assert that the economy is NOT affecting us in our congregation. Perhaps the only way we will see it among us is by examining our offerings, especially as we each discern how our families will contribute to next year's budget. It is also inaccurate to say that is affecting us all in the same way. Some of us are feeling it harder than others. Some of us might have small worries. Some of us might have sleepless nights. Looking out at you all, I can't say who is who.
But I think it is accurate to say that how it affects us is not something we want to share with our faith community. And why is that? Maybe it’s because money is not considered an appropriate topic for church, except when we ask it from you during offering and as we approve the budget. Perhaps because money so intertwined with our identity that to put the topic out for discussion is a little too personal.
Maybe it is like this story on Sunday Soapbox that solicited a huge response. Melissa Parker and her husband, like many young couples, bought a $285,000 home with an adjustable rate mortgage. And now they are in dire straights. Along with their regular bills of health insurance, utilities, fuel for two cars, and student loans, they are at risk of losing their house that is now worth approximately $135,000 less than when they bought it. Melissa Parker said they didn’t factor in the cost of home owners insurance, sewage, property taxes, all the things that go into home ownership. “And” she said, “We just ignored how horrible of a loan we were actually getting.”
Now when she shared her story, there were few responses blaming Wall Street, or the White House, or Congress. Most of the responses sounded like this: “I'm sorry the lady in Sacremento may lose her home; that said though...What the heck did she expect! Who in their right mind would buy a $285,000 home before they paid off student loans etc? Get real. Too many folks with no business getting home loans are crying now because they may lose them. Tuff. That's how a market adjusts.”
Here’s another response. “The Parker's sound like typical materialistic yuppies that want to impress with their stuff. Now they are paying the price. Sooooo sorry.
This was my favorite response. “Mrs. Parkers story was amazing. I really couldn’t understand two college educated people not realizing that you had to add in the cost of your taxes, insurance and utilities when you are thinking about your house payment.. Americans have come to believe that it is their right to own a home whether they can afford it or not and by goodness, they are going to do it no matter what and right now. I don’t expect to be too badly affected by this. I sold my home in 2006… I can rent far better than I ever owned…I drive my 20 yr old Mercedes that only cost $2500 cash and never breaks. We have no credit cards at all and neither of us ever have.... We live within our means..... I cannot imagine being in the kind of debt Mrs. Parker and her husband are in."
Hmm. So why don’t we talk about our personal economic issues in church or with others in our congregation (unless, of course, they are family members)?Perhaps with the finger pointing at Wall Street speculators, deregulating politicians, etc. we worry that someone might point a finger at us. Maybe it’s partially my fault for enjoying eating out so much, or being dependent on my car, or buying a house I really can't afford. Maybe I already feel both like a victim and a greedy spendthrift, and don’t want anyone else to remind me of either position
If we are honest we fear we might receive responses like those responding to Melissa Parker. Judgments. Tisk-tisking of the tongue. Let's face it, Brethren and Mennonites as well as other socially-conscious people of faith who have traditionally prided themselves on simplicity and non-materialism are not often the most understanding people when it comes to middle class woes, even though most of us tend to suffer from them.
But before we start wondering who is living within their means and who isn’t, it may be well to remember that all of us are living beyond our means. No matter if you can make your mortgage payments. No matter if you never drive and bike all around. No matter if you share one job with your spouse and try live simply so you can raise your child yourself. No matter if you grow your own food. As we have been exploring in Sunday School class, if you are American you have a golden calf.
It’s not too clear why the Hebrew people built a golden calf. Perhaps out of desperation. Perhaps out of boredom. Perhaps out of good intentions, but bad motivations.
Perhaps after reading this story in Exodus, we might worry that not only is our church family and neighbors judging us, but God.
In our case, could God be saying to Moses, “Go down at once! Your people, whom you built up from humble beginnings, have been quick to turn from me! They purchase unatainable mortgages for huge homes they don’t need! They live their lives on credit! They make gods out of their cars! Now, get out of the way as I smite them with economic crisis, predatory lending schemes, and unemployment!”
Now whether or not you see God as a being who works this way, I bet you wish there was a Moses in our midst who could change God’s mind, as he did with the Hebrew people, or at least change the outcomes of what has been happening. We are now forced to confront what we do with this golden calf in front of us.
Today many Churches of the Brethren are recognizing World Mission Sunday, where we reacquaint ourselves with the call to continue Jesus’ work by joining in God’s mission in the world. It seems to me that in our case, we are far more eager to look to the rest of the world as a receptacle of our service and money, and less likely to look among us. And I don’t mean in our town. I mean look at the needs of those of us sitting in the pews.
Do we know one another’s needs? Do we know the financial hardships that some of us are facing? Who has anxiety over loans, mortgages, 401 Ks? Who is living on beans and rice, not because More with Less is their favorite cookbook and they decided to become vegetarian and it’s what they want to eat, but because their grocery money includes only must haves. Who doesn't have health insurance and is anxious about the upcoming cold and flu season? Do you know? Or rather, do you really want to know?
Or perhaps, a simpler question: How many here have had another person or family in this congregation over for a meal at their house in the last year? And I don’t mean your immediate or extended families. As we gathered around the communion table last Sunday, perhaps the next step for becoming the body of Christ—among us—is to gather around each other’s kitchen tables once and a while.
Now I’m not suggesting we go to each person’s house with all our financial records and lay them out on the table. But I am suggesting that by finding those ways to connect with one another, to be closer to one another than on this pew and that pew, then maybe we can do more to build up our faith community than any number of Sunday worships can do. When we really start to know each other, when we know more about each other than what we feel is appropriate for church.
Obviously worship is a place to join together and praise God and we hope, be spiritually fed. I like how the Eugene Peterson’s translation in the The Message conveys day’s text from Paul: “Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in him! 6-7Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
But Paul doesn’t just say rejoice and pray. He continues on, again in Peterson’s translation “Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.”
In these small communities that Paul was supporting it is clear that he had a vision of building the kingdom of God. Maybe that’s the difference between the faith community and all the other communities we are a part of. Here we can work for what is true among a small group of people. We can share what we have, based on relationships, not on guilt. This can be the practice ground for creating the kind of world that Jesus spoke of, this can be the place where we are intentional about crafting the kingdom, as idealistic and anti-capitalistic it may sound: where we can all confess our golden calves, where God's will is done, and debts are forgiven…or at least debtors are helped along by the faithful.
Because let’s face it, the world is a big place. There are many needs out there that we have all been committed to. But we are about, what, 80 people? If we aren’t taking care of one another, how can we take care of the world out there? Are you willing to invest in each other? Are you willing to have someone over, even if they live in another part of town, even north of the state line, and just see what happens when you extend the communion table to the kitchen table?
And if we think that money isn't an appropriate topic to speak about with our church family, then we are ignoring a huge part of Jesus' words. Jesus talked about money more than He did Heaven and Hell combined. Jesus talked about money more than anything else except the Kingdom of God. 11 of 39 parables talk about money. One out of every seven verses in Luke's gospel is about money. Money is a faithful topic of conversation.
Are we willing to be that vulnerable? Are we willing to take what we have learned and received and heard from the good news of Jesus and try a novel experiment? It is as simple as it is courageous: Get to know one other. It may be one of the best investments you will ever make.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
God’s Work
sermon for World Communion Sunday
by Torin Eikler
Matthew 21:33-46 Isaiah 5:1-7
At the Church Board meeting this past Wednesday, Mike told us an interesting and moving story from work at the school.
Earlier in the week, a pair of boys – one 7 and one 10 - came to school for the first time after moving into the area with their mother. They arrived on the bus from Bartlett House by themselves because their mother was receiving emergency medical attention and couldn’t come along. They got off the bus and made their way into the front office with little incident and were waiting quietly to receive their class room assignments for 2nd grade and 4th grade, respectively, just like usual.
And then, the trouble started.
The younger of the two boys is a special needs student who is a fairly extreme example of Down’s syndrome, and the busy-ness and excitement of the start of the school day was a bit too much for his nerves. He ran off through the maze of hallways in the office complex with his older brother close on his heels while the staff came to alert.
Now as I pictured this, I imagined a scene from a crime drama with detectives radioing in, “We have a runner! We have a runner! Go, go, go!” as tense music plays in the background. (Clearly I’ve watched a bit too much television in my time because I’m certain it was not at all that tense.) In fact, before the staff had to get very involved, the 10-year-old had followed his brother into the storage closet he had chosen as a quiet, safe place to hide. He soothed him with calm words and loving touches, and the two were soon back in the front area, waiting once again for their turn in the schedule. The older boy, displaying no anger but perhaps a little embarrassed, commented to the staff around them, “I know. I know. He’s my brother, but I still love him.”
Amazing, isn’t it … how the wisdom of the Spirit can speak so clearly where and when we are least expecting it? This child - whose short, hard life has pushed him into responsibilities that many adults would fear to take on – this young boy showed a level of patience and caring that often eludes the best of us.
It humbles me to hear his words speak in the back of my mind as I think of all the times that I walk past people who could use a kind word, or when I grumble about friends or acquaintances who grate on my nerves simply because of who they are. If we all could reach out to the world and serve the “least of these” in the way he did we would be much closer to the Realm of God, for the vineyard is meant to be tended by people like this child.
Why is it that even though we always find stories like this moving in the power of their witness to Christian values, they just don’t tend to translate into changes in our lives? We regularly talk about the inspiration we find in them, yet so often we tend to act more like the tenants in the parable we heard read today – selfish, greedy … blind and deaf to the working of the Spirit among us even as we voice our belief that all our stuff and even our lives are not so much ours as they are God’s.
Think about it… How many times have prophets and visionaries come to share Truth – capital T truth - with us or call us to remember the mission, vision, and priorities of God? They speak to us of environmental concerns and the devastation wrecked by our sadly irresponsible stewardship of the world’s resources. They remind us of the brothers and sisters who wander homeless and hungry in the midst of a culture drunk on plenty and obsessed with the quest for more. They tell stories of the suffering that comes from emotional and physical violence and war – suffering among those who are least at fault, who are weak, and who most desire peace. They speak the words of God as they shape a vision of a world at peace, living in harmony.
And what do we do? How do we respond? Well I, at least, am much more enlightened than the tenants in the parable. I don’t beat them or stone them or kill them. I don’t even wish that I could imprison them like the chief priests and Pharisees (at least not most of the time.)
No, the tools and techniques that I use – that we all use – are more refined and subtle. We simply ignore the people who trouble our comfortably hectic patterns of living. Or we offer them a welcoming smile and a hand shake, listen to what they have to say with nods and concerned expressions, and send them on their way to bother someone else while we offer up a list of justifications among ourselves until we have buried the still small voice they awakened within us under a tumult of grumbling.
Perhaps we deserve to have the word of the Lord that came through Isaiah directed against us…
And now, inhabitants of Morgantown and people of the United States,
judge between me and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done for it?
When I expected it to yield sweet grapes, why did it yield sour grapes?
And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard.
I will remove its hedge and it shall be devoured;
I will break down its wall and it shall be trampled down;
I will make it a waste … and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns.
For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the Church of Christ,
and the followers of Christ are his pleasant planting.
He expected justice but saw bloodshed and greed;
righteousness but heard the cry of the suffering and abused!
Perhaps this is just what has been happening of late. With the economic downturn, the credit crisis, a strained and straining military, and the demise of the United States as the sole and benevolent world power; perhaps we are witnessing what happens when the wall protecting the vineyard falls down…. Perhaps … if such metaphors can be taken literally.
Perhaps we do deserve to have the Realm of God taken away from us and given to “a people that produces the fruits of the Kingdom.” But, amazingly, that is not what we receive.
No, in those moments when we happen to be waiting for the next thing to come and our eyes are open to see the reality of the hectic, scary world – when we run to hide in the quiet dark – in those moments, our patient brother comes to us. He sooths us with quiet words and calms us with the warm touch of a loving embrace. He feeds us on the bread of life to renew our strength. He gives us the wine of the new covenant to refresh our spirits and restore our courage.
And then, wonder of wonders, he leads us back out of the lonely, fearful emptiness we have chosen into the bright warmth of the vineyard we have ignored and treated so poorly. Instead of casting us out, he offers us grace. Despite our repeated failure, despite of our tendency to ignore or neglect the least of these among us, in spite of our habit of throwing out those who speak the words we need to hear – the words of the Spirit; he invites us back into the Realm of God. He gives us, once again, the power and authority to tear down the walls we have raised to protect our place as a “chosen people” and bids us to go and bring others to share the bounty of the garden and the new life it promises.
Sisters and brothers in Christ, as we share in the feast of life at the table of our Lord and brother, let us praise God for the salvation we have received:
salvation from the flawed ways of the world and
the false promises it makes…
salvation from the burden and worry of trying to do it all …
salvation from the dark loneliness within ourselves.
Let us eat again of the bread and tasting again the water of life, let us joyfully take up our own small part in tending God’s vineyard. It is good work. It is God’s work. And we have been chosen – we are privileged – to share in the fun.
by Torin Eikler
Matthew 21:33-46 Isaiah 5:1-7
At the Church Board meeting this past Wednesday, Mike told us an interesting and moving story from work at the school.
Earlier in the week, a pair of boys – one 7 and one 10 - came to school for the first time after moving into the area with their mother. They arrived on the bus from Bartlett House by themselves because their mother was receiving emergency medical attention and couldn’t come along. They got off the bus and made their way into the front office with little incident and were waiting quietly to receive their class room assignments for 2nd grade and 4th grade, respectively, just like usual.
And then, the trouble started.
The younger of the two boys is a special needs student who is a fairly extreme example of Down’s syndrome, and the busy-ness and excitement of the start of the school day was a bit too much for his nerves. He ran off through the maze of hallways in the office complex with his older brother close on his heels while the staff came to alert.
Now as I pictured this, I imagined a scene from a crime drama with detectives radioing in, “We have a runner! We have a runner! Go, go, go!” as tense music plays in the background. (Clearly I’ve watched a bit too much television in my time because I’m certain it was not at all that tense.) In fact, before the staff had to get very involved, the 10-year-old had followed his brother into the storage closet he had chosen as a quiet, safe place to hide. He soothed him with calm words and loving touches, and the two were soon back in the front area, waiting once again for their turn in the schedule. The older boy, displaying no anger but perhaps a little embarrassed, commented to the staff around them, “I know. I know. He’s my brother, but I still love him.”
Amazing, isn’t it … how the wisdom of the Spirit can speak so clearly where and when we are least expecting it? This child - whose short, hard life has pushed him into responsibilities that many adults would fear to take on – this young boy showed a level of patience and caring that often eludes the best of us.
It humbles me to hear his words speak in the back of my mind as I think of all the times that I walk past people who could use a kind word, or when I grumble about friends or acquaintances who grate on my nerves simply because of who they are. If we all could reach out to the world and serve the “least of these” in the way he did we would be much closer to the Realm of God, for the vineyard is meant to be tended by people like this child.
Why is it that even though we always find stories like this moving in the power of their witness to Christian values, they just don’t tend to translate into changes in our lives? We regularly talk about the inspiration we find in them, yet so often we tend to act more like the tenants in the parable we heard read today – selfish, greedy … blind and deaf to the working of the Spirit among us even as we voice our belief that all our stuff and even our lives are not so much ours as they are God’s.
Think about it… How many times have prophets and visionaries come to share Truth – capital T truth - with us or call us to remember the mission, vision, and priorities of God? They speak to us of environmental concerns and the devastation wrecked by our sadly irresponsible stewardship of the world’s resources. They remind us of the brothers and sisters who wander homeless and hungry in the midst of a culture drunk on plenty and obsessed with the quest for more. They tell stories of the suffering that comes from emotional and physical violence and war – suffering among those who are least at fault, who are weak, and who most desire peace. They speak the words of God as they shape a vision of a world at peace, living in harmony.
And what do we do? How do we respond? Well I, at least, am much more enlightened than the tenants in the parable. I don’t beat them or stone them or kill them. I don’t even wish that I could imprison them like the chief priests and Pharisees (at least not most of the time.)
No, the tools and techniques that I use – that we all use – are more refined and subtle. We simply ignore the people who trouble our comfortably hectic patterns of living. Or we offer them a welcoming smile and a hand shake, listen to what they have to say with nods and concerned expressions, and send them on their way to bother someone else while we offer up a list of justifications among ourselves until we have buried the still small voice they awakened within us under a tumult of grumbling.
Perhaps we deserve to have the word of the Lord that came through Isaiah directed against us…
And now, inhabitants of Morgantown and people of the United States,
judge between me and my vineyard.
What more was there to do for my vineyard that I have not done for it?
When I expected it to yield sweet grapes, why did it yield sour grapes?
And now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard.
I will remove its hedge and it shall be devoured;
I will break down its wall and it shall be trampled down;
I will make it a waste … and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns.
For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the Church of Christ,
and the followers of Christ are his pleasant planting.
He expected justice but saw bloodshed and greed;
righteousness but heard the cry of the suffering and abused!
Perhaps this is just what has been happening of late. With the economic downturn, the credit crisis, a strained and straining military, and the demise of the United States as the sole and benevolent world power; perhaps we are witnessing what happens when the wall protecting the vineyard falls down…. Perhaps … if such metaphors can be taken literally.
Perhaps we do deserve to have the Realm of God taken away from us and given to “a people that produces the fruits of the Kingdom.” But, amazingly, that is not what we receive.
No, in those moments when we happen to be waiting for the next thing to come and our eyes are open to see the reality of the hectic, scary world – when we run to hide in the quiet dark – in those moments, our patient brother comes to us. He sooths us with quiet words and calms us with the warm touch of a loving embrace. He feeds us on the bread of life to renew our strength. He gives us the wine of the new covenant to refresh our spirits and restore our courage.
And then, wonder of wonders, he leads us back out of the lonely, fearful emptiness we have chosen into the bright warmth of the vineyard we have ignored and treated so poorly. Instead of casting us out, he offers us grace. Despite our repeated failure, despite of our tendency to ignore or neglect the least of these among us, in spite of our habit of throwing out those who speak the words we need to hear – the words of the Spirit; he invites us back into the Realm of God. He gives us, once again, the power and authority to tear down the walls we have raised to protect our place as a “chosen people” and bids us to go and bring others to share the bounty of the garden and the new life it promises.
Sisters and brothers in Christ, as we share in the feast of life at the table of our Lord and brother, let us praise God for the salvation we have received:
salvation from the flawed ways of the world and
the false promises it makes…
salvation from the burden and worry of trying to do it all …
salvation from the dark loneliness within ourselves.
Let us eat again of the bread and tasting again the water of life, let us joyfully take up our own small part in tending God’s vineyard. It is good work. It is God’s work. And we have been chosen – we are privileged – to share in the fun.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Working for Mercy?
sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 20: 1-16 Jonah 3:1-4:4
Ahh … the story of Jonah.
Several weeks ago when I took an afternoon to look at the scriptures coming up for this quarter, I have to admit that I was excited that Jonah was on the list. It’s one of my favorite books in the First Testament … and even in the whole bible. And, I know I’m not alone because when I sat down with Cindy to plan hymns for today’s worship, she said it was one of her favorite stories too. I don’t think I would be too far off in saying that it is well-loved among most of us.
And why not, it has all the makings of a great fairy tale – a rebellious hero, an angry god, a monstrous fish, and a long journey with more than a few twists and turns. We hear the tale from the time we are young and we remember it because it’s just a little bit scary, but everyone comes out okay in the end. It’s even been immortalized in the children’s movie Pinocchio where the little wooden boy meets his Geppetto in the belly of a whale and helps him escape. Less well known is the story “The Adventures of Baron Von Munchousen” which I grew up listening to on an LP along with “The Three Little Pigs.” I especially like the end of the story with the bush that “magically” grows to shade Jonah and the worm that comes along and kills the bush overnight with a few well-placed bites.
All in all, it’s a story that we tend to carry with us, and as we grow and mature, the story changes and develops accordingly. Not long ago, in fact, one of the young people in this congregation made a point of asking me about the nature of the beast that swallowed Jonah and how he survived.
A: Do you think Jonah really could have survived if he was eaten like that?
T: Well, whales have really big mouths. So, maybe he just sat on the whale’s tongue.
A: But it doesn’t say it was a whale. It says a big fish.
T: That’s true. It could have been a fish, but at that time, whales were considered fish.
A: Okay, but wouldn’t he have drowned anyway. I mean the fish or the whale or whatever was underwater all that time.
T: Well, when whales have the mouths closed; there is actually a lot of air inside along with the water. You know like in the movie “Finding Nemo” when the fish are in the whale’s mouth, they are kind of in a puddle.
Well, the conversation went on a little longer, but you get the picture. And that’s how it begins for us, raising questions when it doesn’t stand up to the logic of the world we learn about in school. But it doesn’t stop there.
When I was in my three-week orientation for Brethren Volunteer Service we had a bible study almost every morning, and one morning our visiting leader chose Jonah as the subject. That morning, we didn’t talk about the fish/whale controversy or the repentance of Ninevah or even the mercy God showed them (mercy that doesn’t seem to extend to the innocent sailors if you think about it). We talked about Jonah’s effort to run away from God’s calling, and ended up in pairs talking about which projects in the list might be our Ninevah. It was probably the only bible study that I went into eagerly, but I came out of it feeling challenged and full of new questions.
The more we spend time thinking about the story of Jonah, the more questions seem to come up.
Questions about the nature of discipleship – what does God actually require of us? Will we have to go to dangerous places and do things we don’t want to do?
Questions about the nature of God – will we be protected even when we choose against God’s will?
Questions about the world we live in – are the laws of nature set and stable or will God “play around” with nature to make a point?
Questions about the nature of grace - is God vindictive and changeable or is God merciful and slow to anger? Is grace free for all or does grace at least require the worship of Christ?
The piece of the story we heard today answers some of those questions – at least partly, and it brings a few of them to the fore. It doesn’t deal with the “fun” parts of the plot … no ships, no storms, no whales, no miraculous worms, no slinking off in the middle of the night. This is the part that deals with real people and, particularly, with the gritty messy part of Jonah’s humanity and his relationship with God.
It’s the hard part of the story for us because it casts Jonah in a petulant, belligerent light … and in that light, Jonah looks an awful lot like we do.
Have any of you ever been on the interstate, cruising along but only going the speed limit because you are stuck in the middle of a pack of trucks? Finally an opening comes and you move out into the passing lane and you’re relieved to get back up to 71 or 72 (because you know that extra 5 or 6 miles per hour will make all the difference right?). You pass one truck … then two. And all of the sudden, someone else comes flying up behind you in an SUV and sits right on your bumper, honking and flashing the head lights. You think, “Well you can just wait until I’ve passed the next three trucks because I’m not getting over!” But, you can’t keep it up. That sense of relief you felt melts into anxiety, frustration, and anger because that stupid jerk behind you just won’t back off! So, you move over in that almost-too-small space just before the last truck to let the car pass only to discover that about ten other cars have backed up. Then another truck or two join the queue, and you’re stuck in the middle again, fuming at that one speedster who ruined your drive.
Every once in awhile, when that happens to me, I am just pleased as punch to discover, a few miles down the road, that an attentive state trooper has pulled over that very same SUV. A satisfied smile spreads across my face, and I think to myself, “Well, that’s what you get for speeding.” (never mind the fact that the flashing lights in the distance made me hit the brakes so that I didn’t cruise by at the extra fast speed I was hoping would make up for lost time.)
Most of us have little experiences like that from time to time – moments when we feel that injustice has been appropriately redressed. When a reckless driver gets a ticket or when a fellow student is finally caught cheating or when it finally comes to light that one of our leaders lied to us in order to get an unpopular policy pushed through. It feels so good to be the righteous one in those moments whether we really are or not. And, when it doesn’t happen, we grumble about the unfairness of the situation. We get particularly angry when we realize that the powers that be know about the injustice and choose to overlook it or forgive the perpetrator.
It comes as no great surprise, then, that Jonah is angry when Ninevah is spared the wrath of God. They had been living “the good life” while Jonah and all of his friends and family – all of the faithful – had been towing the line and following the commandments. They were the cheating, reckless, unfaithful jerks that everyone wanted to see get what was coming to them. And, they were let off the hook. Even worse, Jonah himself was the one who had to show them the way out. Even though he knew, as we know, that mercy and grace are wonderful things that we all need and that we are supposed to offer to everyone, deep down inside, we all wish that some people would be spared forgiveness and just get what they deserve.
And that’s not even the whole of it. Our fixation on justice and fairness even makes us resentful when people get more than we think they should or, perhaps more accurately, when we don’t get as much as we think we should compared to others. When other people take the credit for something they didn’t have any part in (or perhaps even tried to ruin), it gets our hackles up. And when we do all the work on a group project and everyone gets equal credit, we get frustrated.
That’s what the parable of the vineyard is all about. Everyone who worked on that project got the same credit – no difference between those who worked a full 12-hour day and those who only worked the last couple of hours. It’s not that the amount was unfair or unreasonable. It was the standard wages for day workers. The issue was that not everyone did the same amount of work and so it feels unfair to pay everyone the same amount. Even when we get exactly what we expected – what we normally think is right – we just can’t be happy if other people get more for less.
But that’s not the way God’s grace and mercy work – thank God. It’s not about justice and injustice. It’s not even about what we think we deserve for what we have done. If it really did work that way, either we would all reap the rewards of our living – which is never perfect enough to earn salvation - or we would have to live in fear of a God who really does just sort of spin the wheel and zap whoever loses with the proverbial bolt of lighting.
So, why do we get so angry sometimes or feel so cheated when others receive what we would hope for ourselves? Is it because we still believe the message of our culture – a message born of the “Protestant Work Ethic?” In some part of our selves, do we believe that we get what we deserve for the work we put in? Perhaps we have made our peace with the gift of grace by saying, “Sure grace if free. Of course it is, but once we have it we have to work to keep it. That’s discipleship, right?” Maybe, being bounded, finite people, we just can’t get our heads all the way around the idea of unlimited, unmerited grace. Or maybe just like our Jewish brother we like to see a good stoning coming the way of those who deserve it – as long as it isn’t us.
Yet, God’s mercy and grace are limitless, and they are freely given. They cannot be bought through the sweat of our brow or the work of our souls. There is no condition put on them – no requirement except that we accept them. Everyone is offered the same thing – a gift that is beyond our imagination, a gift that could never be made or earned or purchased. And each of us in our own turn has found the joy and freedom that came when we received that gift with eagerness and gratitude.
So, let us hear the words of our God echoing down the centuries and right into our own lives – “Is it right for you to be angry?” Let us hear those words and embrace the answer so completely that our peevish, belligerent hearts melt with compassion for everyone we meet. Let us accept, once again, the grace that we cannot earn – the merciful grace that frees us from anger and worry so that we can offer the same hope to others and rejoice in what they receive.
Matthew 20: 1-16 Jonah 3:1-4:4
Ahh … the story of Jonah.
Several weeks ago when I took an afternoon to look at the scriptures coming up for this quarter, I have to admit that I was excited that Jonah was on the list. It’s one of my favorite books in the First Testament … and even in the whole bible. And, I know I’m not alone because when I sat down with Cindy to plan hymns for today’s worship, she said it was one of her favorite stories too. I don’t think I would be too far off in saying that it is well-loved among most of us.
And why not, it has all the makings of a great fairy tale – a rebellious hero, an angry god, a monstrous fish, and a long journey with more than a few twists and turns. We hear the tale from the time we are young and we remember it because it’s just a little bit scary, but everyone comes out okay in the end. It’s even been immortalized in the children’s movie Pinocchio where the little wooden boy meets his Geppetto in the belly of a whale and helps him escape. Less well known is the story “The Adventures of Baron Von Munchousen” which I grew up listening to on an LP along with “The Three Little Pigs.” I especially like the end of the story with the bush that “magically” grows to shade Jonah and the worm that comes along and kills the bush overnight with a few well-placed bites.
All in all, it’s a story that we tend to carry with us, and as we grow and mature, the story changes and develops accordingly. Not long ago, in fact, one of the young people in this congregation made a point of asking me about the nature of the beast that swallowed Jonah and how he survived.
A: Do you think Jonah really could have survived if he was eaten like that?
T: Well, whales have really big mouths. So, maybe he just sat on the whale’s tongue.
A: But it doesn’t say it was a whale. It says a big fish.
T: That’s true. It could have been a fish, but at that time, whales were considered fish.
A: Okay, but wouldn’t he have drowned anyway. I mean the fish or the whale or whatever was underwater all that time.
T: Well, when whales have the mouths closed; there is actually a lot of air inside along with the water. You know like in the movie “Finding Nemo” when the fish are in the whale’s mouth, they are kind of in a puddle.
Well, the conversation went on a little longer, but you get the picture. And that’s how it begins for us, raising questions when it doesn’t stand up to the logic of the world we learn about in school. But it doesn’t stop there.
When I was in my three-week orientation for Brethren Volunteer Service we had a bible study almost every morning, and one morning our visiting leader chose Jonah as the subject. That morning, we didn’t talk about the fish/whale controversy or the repentance of Ninevah or even the mercy God showed them (mercy that doesn’t seem to extend to the innocent sailors if you think about it). We talked about Jonah’s effort to run away from God’s calling, and ended up in pairs talking about which projects in the list might be our Ninevah. It was probably the only bible study that I went into eagerly, but I came out of it feeling challenged and full of new questions.
The more we spend time thinking about the story of Jonah, the more questions seem to come up.
Questions about the nature of discipleship – what does God actually require of us? Will we have to go to dangerous places and do things we don’t want to do?
Questions about the nature of God – will we be protected even when we choose against God’s will?
Questions about the world we live in – are the laws of nature set and stable or will God “play around” with nature to make a point?
Questions about the nature of grace - is God vindictive and changeable or is God merciful and slow to anger? Is grace free for all or does grace at least require the worship of Christ?
The piece of the story we heard today answers some of those questions – at least partly, and it brings a few of them to the fore. It doesn’t deal with the “fun” parts of the plot … no ships, no storms, no whales, no miraculous worms, no slinking off in the middle of the night. This is the part that deals with real people and, particularly, with the gritty messy part of Jonah’s humanity and his relationship with God.
It’s the hard part of the story for us because it casts Jonah in a petulant, belligerent light … and in that light, Jonah looks an awful lot like we do.
Have any of you ever been on the interstate, cruising along but only going the speed limit because you are stuck in the middle of a pack of trucks? Finally an opening comes and you move out into the passing lane and you’re relieved to get back up to 71 or 72 (because you know that extra 5 or 6 miles per hour will make all the difference right?). You pass one truck … then two. And all of the sudden, someone else comes flying up behind you in an SUV and sits right on your bumper, honking and flashing the head lights. You think, “Well you can just wait until I’ve passed the next three trucks because I’m not getting over!” But, you can’t keep it up. That sense of relief you felt melts into anxiety, frustration, and anger because that stupid jerk behind you just won’t back off! So, you move over in that almost-too-small space just before the last truck to let the car pass only to discover that about ten other cars have backed up. Then another truck or two join the queue, and you’re stuck in the middle again, fuming at that one speedster who ruined your drive.
Every once in awhile, when that happens to me, I am just pleased as punch to discover, a few miles down the road, that an attentive state trooper has pulled over that very same SUV. A satisfied smile spreads across my face, and I think to myself, “Well, that’s what you get for speeding.” (never mind the fact that the flashing lights in the distance made me hit the brakes so that I didn’t cruise by at the extra fast speed I was hoping would make up for lost time.)
Most of us have little experiences like that from time to time – moments when we feel that injustice has been appropriately redressed. When a reckless driver gets a ticket or when a fellow student is finally caught cheating or when it finally comes to light that one of our leaders lied to us in order to get an unpopular policy pushed through. It feels so good to be the righteous one in those moments whether we really are or not. And, when it doesn’t happen, we grumble about the unfairness of the situation. We get particularly angry when we realize that the powers that be know about the injustice and choose to overlook it or forgive the perpetrator.
It comes as no great surprise, then, that Jonah is angry when Ninevah is spared the wrath of God. They had been living “the good life” while Jonah and all of his friends and family – all of the faithful – had been towing the line and following the commandments. They were the cheating, reckless, unfaithful jerks that everyone wanted to see get what was coming to them. And, they were let off the hook. Even worse, Jonah himself was the one who had to show them the way out. Even though he knew, as we know, that mercy and grace are wonderful things that we all need and that we are supposed to offer to everyone, deep down inside, we all wish that some people would be spared forgiveness and just get what they deserve.
And that’s not even the whole of it. Our fixation on justice and fairness even makes us resentful when people get more than we think they should or, perhaps more accurately, when we don’t get as much as we think we should compared to others. When other people take the credit for something they didn’t have any part in (or perhaps even tried to ruin), it gets our hackles up. And when we do all the work on a group project and everyone gets equal credit, we get frustrated.
That’s what the parable of the vineyard is all about. Everyone who worked on that project got the same credit – no difference between those who worked a full 12-hour day and those who only worked the last couple of hours. It’s not that the amount was unfair or unreasonable. It was the standard wages for day workers. The issue was that not everyone did the same amount of work and so it feels unfair to pay everyone the same amount. Even when we get exactly what we expected – what we normally think is right – we just can’t be happy if other people get more for less.
But that’s not the way God’s grace and mercy work – thank God. It’s not about justice and injustice. It’s not even about what we think we deserve for what we have done. If it really did work that way, either we would all reap the rewards of our living – which is never perfect enough to earn salvation - or we would have to live in fear of a God who really does just sort of spin the wheel and zap whoever loses with the proverbial bolt of lighting.
So, why do we get so angry sometimes or feel so cheated when others receive what we would hope for ourselves? Is it because we still believe the message of our culture – a message born of the “Protestant Work Ethic?” In some part of our selves, do we believe that we get what we deserve for the work we put in? Perhaps we have made our peace with the gift of grace by saying, “Sure grace if free. Of course it is, but once we have it we have to work to keep it. That’s discipleship, right?” Maybe, being bounded, finite people, we just can’t get our heads all the way around the idea of unlimited, unmerited grace. Or maybe just like our Jewish brother we like to see a good stoning coming the way of those who deserve it – as long as it isn’t us.
Yet, God’s mercy and grace are limitless, and they are freely given. They cannot be bought through the sweat of our brow or the work of our souls. There is no condition put on them – no requirement except that we accept them. Everyone is offered the same thing – a gift that is beyond our imagination, a gift that could never be made or earned or purchased. And each of us in our own turn has found the joy and freedom that came when we received that gift with eagerness and gratitude.
So, let us hear the words of our God echoing down the centuries and right into our own lives – “Is it right for you to be angry?” Let us hear those words and embrace the answer so completely that our peevish, belligerent hearts melt with compassion for everyone we meet. Let us accept, once again, the grace that we cannot earn – the merciful grace that frees us from anger and worry so that we can offer the same hope to others and rejoice in what they receive.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Can Love Be Learned?
sermon by Torin Eikler
Romans 13:8-14, Psalm 119:33-40
Have you ever tried to teach something to someone who just can’t seem to grasp the concept? I don’t mean someone who is being intentionally dense or doesn’t care to put in the time and energy to understand. I mean someone who really isn’t ready or able to understand what you’re trying to teach? It’s a helpless feeling … wondering if you just aren’t finding the right words … growing more and more frustrated with your pupil until you are ready to chuck the whole process out the window … beginning to question if you really understand yourself.
I’m pretty sure any of you who have raised children can identify with those moments. I know I have felt that way many, many times already as Carrie and I have tried to help Sebastian understand new things.
(I hope you’ll excuse me for using Sebastian as an example so many times. There just seem to be so many parallels between a child’s learning and our own growth as we mature in faith.)
Anyway, it seems that no matter how many times we explain - about things as simple as cleaning up a mess (or not making it in the first place) or as important as not throwing rocks or whatever it may be at another person and the danger of running into the street - he doesn’t seem to get it. The concepts of self-preservation or being careful not to hurt others are just beyond his capacity, and we can only keep trying to find patience that we don’t always seem to have in the hope that the time when he does get it comes sooner rather than later.
But the struggle to learn – really learn – difficult concepts is not the province of children alone. How many of you, for example, could explain Einstein’s theory of general relativity? Or how internal combustion power, friction, and momentum work together to determine fuel efficiency? How about computer chips? Or how Christ could be fully human without sinning and fully divine if he did sin?
(Let's do that again and if you could raise your hands, that would be great 'cause I’m still having difficulty with this stuff myself, and I could use some help. General Relativity? … 2, okay … engines? … 3, good … computers? … a couple kind ofs, all right … Christology? … no? Well two out of four isn’t too bad. I’ll talk with you all later.)
These are difficult questions for most of us because they lead into really big, complex ideas that aren’t a direct part of our experience (or at least we don’t realize that they are.) And, for the most part, we are content to let them sit there in all their incomprehensible splendor as long as it doesn’t seem to affect our lives too much. So, we look for simple rules that will help us get along without understanding all the complexities.
One of my father’s favorite movies is “The Gods Must be Crazy.” He likes it partly because it takes place in Africa where he grew up and partly because it deals with our struggle to understand the unknown. But mostly he loves it because it’s funny and witty and insightful or, as he would put it – “it’s just plain fun.” For those of you who haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend it for an evening’s viewing.
In the movie, an isolated tribe of bush people are visited by an object from the gods – a Coke bottle. It falls from the sky (or more precisely, from a plane flying overhead). None of them have ever seen a bottle before, and as they explore its uses, including bonking each other on the head, they soon come to believe that it is an evil thing that is not meant to be touched by human hands.
So, the hero of the story whose name is unpronounceable, for me at least, decides to take the bottle and throw it off the edge of the earth. He soon discovers that the earth doesn’t end where he thought it did, and as his quest continues, he comes into contact with modern civilization and the “gods” with white skin. After many adventures and mishaps along the way, he finally returns to his home and his family (without the bottle) and while he cannot comprehend or explain everything he has seen, he does share one truth he has learned – one rule for the tribe to follow – avoid the gods and the wonders they have because the gods are crazy.
That kind of encounter is quite unlikely for most of us. We live, after all, in the global society that is the purview of those crazy gods. But we do live our lives according to simple rules that mask unbelievable complexity. We know, for example, that if we let go of a pen or a knife or a concrete paving stone, it will fall down instead of floating away. It doesn’t really matter how the equations that describe the forces of attraction between objects of varying masses balance in those moments. We only know that we need to get our feet and not our heads out of the way if we want to avoid a potentially painful accident. Just one of the basic rules we live by.
And that’s what we teach our children– rules to live by. Don’t throw things at people. Don’t touch the stove. Food is for eating not playing. Don’t take the toys that someone else is playing with. Don’t pound on the cat with a book – in fact, don’t pound on the cat at all. Sleep is good even if you don’t think you want it. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Listen to your parents.
Not so different from the commandments we are supposed to live by ourselves. Honor your father and your mother. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not covet. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. More rules to live by – rules given to a people who were not ready or able to understand the concepts that truly govern our lives together. Kind of makes you wonder if God felt a bit like a parent with fussy, willful children who just didn’t get it.
Paul’s letter to the Romans makes it clear, though, that there is much more to it all than rules. Love, he says, is at the heart of all these commandments, and his words echo the words of Christ who said that all the law of Israel and all the words of the prophets can be summed up a command to love God and love others. The central law of life as children of God, it seems, is … love. And love seems … somehow … to exist on a different level than laws of physics or engine mechanics or the common sense rules of survival. While they can be taught, I’m not sure that is true of love. No, love is different.
Ideas and concepts can be taught and learned by the mind. They deal with how things work and what we should do, and they can often be boiled down into simple rules. But motivations – those things like love that deal with why we do things – they don’t live in our heads. They live in our hearts and our guts, and I don’t know of any case in which I, at least, have been able to teach motivation. In the case of the law of love that lies at the heart of God’s plan for humanity, it seems that even God has had trouble teaching us why to do the things we do.
The Ten Commandments and all the other specific rules that were given to us to help mold our lives into the right shape are good rules to follow. But no matter how well we adhere to them, no matter how we study the implications and seek out patterns to help guide us, they still don’t cover every circumstance of life.
Even all of Christ’s teachings, taken together with his example as a guide, can’t do that . And, even if they did, following rules for the sake of the rules - for righteousness sake – is not the point. It may help us to live better lives and create a better world, but without the right motivation – without love – we are, as Paul puts it, no better than clashing cymbals or clanging gongs.
Love is the key to life in the Realm of God, and no amount of rules can bring us into that place, if our history and our experience is any guide. They can approximate it maybe, help us to live in a world that mirrors God’s dream for us. But without love as our motivation for life, we will always be on the wrong side of the looking glass. And, the question is, how do we discover that key within ourselves?
There is a line from a song that has been coming into my head all week. It is from the duet that Tevye and Golda sing together in “Fiddler on the Roof” when Tevye is wondering if Golda actually loves him or is just living with him because their marriage was arranged and that’s what one did in that time and place. After talking (well, I guess singing) around the issue for most of the song, the two of them share this little exchange back and forth:
T - The first time I met you was on our wedding day.
I was scared.
G - I was shy.
T - I was nervous.
G - So was I.
T- But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other.
And now I'm asking, Golda, Do you love me?
Eventually, of course, Golda admits that after 25 years she has learned to love Tevye, and Tevye returns the favor.
The words are striking to me because I have had the same experience in my life. Well, not exactly the same …. But I have often found myself thrown together with people that I did not know at all. And even in just a year’s time living and working with them, I came to love them – even when our time together began in fighting and disagreement. Strange, isn’t it, how sharing a bathroom or a living room or dinner time can change your perception of someone?!
But it’s more than that, I suppose. It’s more than just sharing space that opens our eyes and our hearts to the people we love in our lives. It’s the time we spend talking and listening to one another that helps us to understand what lies underneath the surface impressions and posturing of the people we meet. It’s that vision of who they really are that lets us let go of the little frustrations and the way others rub us the wrong way. It’s the relationships that we build with them that frees us embrace them with all their faults and all their brilliance – to embrace them in love for who they are and who they want to be.
Perhaps that’s the answer. I still wonder if love can be taught, but perhaps love can be learned through relationships.
When Jesus gave guidance about the commandments in the Sermon on the Mount, he told us to look beyond the rules to the motivation. “You have heard it said, ‘you shall not murder,” but I say to you if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment. You have heard it said, ‘you shall not commit adultery,’ but I say to you that everyone who looks at a [another] with lust has already committed adultery. You have heard it said, ‘you shall love your neighbor,’ but I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
When Jesus spoke of the measure of faithful living in his description of the Day of the Lord, he said that the blessed would be those who met the need they found in the world. They fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and cared for the sick and imprisoned. They did all this not for the sake of following rules or with a thought for their reward.
And so should we – follow the example of those sheep in Jesus’ prophetic vision of the final judgment. We should reach out to those in need around us in love – a love that we will surely learn if we truly follow their lead. For, those disciples got their hands dirty. They did not settle, as we so often do, for donating money or taking their left over, tired old clothes to the Goodwill or sending off a card to a shut-in when they remembered. They met the people they reached out to. They welcomed them into their lives – strangers or no. They brought them into the house to offer the hospitality of food and drink. They took clothes to them in their homes. They stayed with them when they were sick, cleaning them and feeding them and emptying their chamber pots.
All these things they did in love, love that grew in them as they got to know those they helped. Each time they reached out to another person they learned to understand and live the law of love a little more fully. And, who among us does not need to understand that law more fully?
Perhaps if we can find or make the time to reach out and touch the need in the world around us – hand out sack lunches at the Baptist Church, talk with lonely people in nursing homes, or volunteer with Bartlett House – perhaps with each new relationship we build along the way, we too will learn a little more and a little more and a little more. One day, we may even look around and find that we are standing on the other side of the looking glass holding the key in our hands.
May it be so.
Romans 13:8-14, Psalm 119:33-40
Have you ever tried to teach something to someone who just can’t seem to grasp the concept? I don’t mean someone who is being intentionally dense or doesn’t care to put in the time and energy to understand. I mean someone who really isn’t ready or able to understand what you’re trying to teach? It’s a helpless feeling … wondering if you just aren’t finding the right words … growing more and more frustrated with your pupil until you are ready to chuck the whole process out the window … beginning to question if you really understand yourself.
I’m pretty sure any of you who have raised children can identify with those moments. I know I have felt that way many, many times already as Carrie and I have tried to help Sebastian understand new things.
(I hope you’ll excuse me for using Sebastian as an example so many times. There just seem to be so many parallels between a child’s learning and our own growth as we mature in faith.)
Anyway, it seems that no matter how many times we explain - about things as simple as cleaning up a mess (or not making it in the first place) or as important as not throwing rocks or whatever it may be at another person and the danger of running into the street - he doesn’t seem to get it. The concepts of self-preservation or being careful not to hurt others are just beyond his capacity, and we can only keep trying to find patience that we don’t always seem to have in the hope that the time when he does get it comes sooner rather than later.
But the struggle to learn – really learn – difficult concepts is not the province of children alone. How many of you, for example, could explain Einstein’s theory of general relativity? Or how internal combustion power, friction, and momentum work together to determine fuel efficiency? How about computer chips? Or how Christ could be fully human without sinning and fully divine if he did sin?
(Let's do that again and if you could raise your hands, that would be great 'cause I’m still having difficulty with this stuff myself, and I could use some help. General Relativity? … 2, okay … engines? … 3, good … computers? … a couple kind ofs, all right … Christology? … no? Well two out of four isn’t too bad. I’ll talk with you all later.)
These are difficult questions for most of us because they lead into really big, complex ideas that aren’t a direct part of our experience (or at least we don’t realize that they are.) And, for the most part, we are content to let them sit there in all their incomprehensible splendor as long as it doesn’t seem to affect our lives too much. So, we look for simple rules that will help us get along without understanding all the complexities.
One of my father’s favorite movies is “The Gods Must be Crazy.” He likes it partly because it takes place in Africa where he grew up and partly because it deals with our struggle to understand the unknown. But mostly he loves it because it’s funny and witty and insightful or, as he would put it – “it’s just plain fun.” For those of you who haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend it for an evening’s viewing.
In the movie, an isolated tribe of bush people are visited by an object from the gods – a Coke bottle. It falls from the sky (or more precisely, from a plane flying overhead). None of them have ever seen a bottle before, and as they explore its uses, including bonking each other on the head, they soon come to believe that it is an evil thing that is not meant to be touched by human hands.
So, the hero of the story whose name is unpronounceable, for me at least, decides to take the bottle and throw it off the edge of the earth. He soon discovers that the earth doesn’t end where he thought it did, and as his quest continues, he comes into contact with modern civilization and the “gods” with white skin. After many adventures and mishaps along the way, he finally returns to his home and his family (without the bottle) and while he cannot comprehend or explain everything he has seen, he does share one truth he has learned – one rule for the tribe to follow – avoid the gods and the wonders they have because the gods are crazy.
That kind of encounter is quite unlikely for most of us. We live, after all, in the global society that is the purview of those crazy gods. But we do live our lives according to simple rules that mask unbelievable complexity. We know, for example, that if we let go of a pen or a knife or a concrete paving stone, it will fall down instead of floating away. It doesn’t really matter how the equations that describe the forces of attraction between objects of varying masses balance in those moments. We only know that we need to get our feet and not our heads out of the way if we want to avoid a potentially painful accident. Just one of the basic rules we live by.
And that’s what we teach our children– rules to live by. Don’t throw things at people. Don’t touch the stove. Food is for eating not playing. Don’t take the toys that someone else is playing with. Don’t pound on the cat with a book – in fact, don’t pound on the cat at all. Sleep is good even if you don’t think you want it. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Listen to your parents.
Not so different from the commandments we are supposed to live by ourselves. Honor your father and your mother. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness. You shall not covet. You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. More rules to live by – rules given to a people who were not ready or able to understand the concepts that truly govern our lives together. Kind of makes you wonder if God felt a bit like a parent with fussy, willful children who just didn’t get it.
Paul’s letter to the Romans makes it clear, though, that there is much more to it all than rules. Love, he says, is at the heart of all these commandments, and his words echo the words of Christ who said that all the law of Israel and all the words of the prophets can be summed up a command to love God and love others. The central law of life as children of God, it seems, is … love. And love seems … somehow … to exist on a different level than laws of physics or engine mechanics or the common sense rules of survival. While they can be taught, I’m not sure that is true of love. No, love is different.
Ideas and concepts can be taught and learned by the mind. They deal with how things work and what we should do, and they can often be boiled down into simple rules. But motivations – those things like love that deal with why we do things – they don’t live in our heads. They live in our hearts and our guts, and I don’t know of any case in which I, at least, have been able to teach motivation. In the case of the law of love that lies at the heart of God’s plan for humanity, it seems that even God has had trouble teaching us why to do the things we do.
The Ten Commandments and all the other specific rules that were given to us to help mold our lives into the right shape are good rules to follow. But no matter how well we adhere to them, no matter how we study the implications and seek out patterns to help guide us, they still don’t cover every circumstance of life.
Even all of Christ’s teachings, taken together with his example as a guide, can’t do that . And, even if they did, following rules for the sake of the rules - for righteousness sake – is not the point. It may help us to live better lives and create a better world, but without the right motivation – without love – we are, as Paul puts it, no better than clashing cymbals or clanging gongs.
Love is the key to life in the Realm of God, and no amount of rules can bring us into that place, if our history and our experience is any guide. They can approximate it maybe, help us to live in a world that mirrors God’s dream for us. But without love as our motivation for life, we will always be on the wrong side of the looking glass. And, the question is, how do we discover that key within ourselves?
There is a line from a song that has been coming into my head all week. It is from the duet that Tevye and Golda sing together in “Fiddler on the Roof” when Tevye is wondering if Golda actually loves him or is just living with him because their marriage was arranged and that’s what one did in that time and place. After talking (well, I guess singing) around the issue for most of the song, the two of them share this little exchange back and forth:
T - The first time I met you was on our wedding day.
I was scared.
G - I was shy.
T - I was nervous.
G - So was I.
T- But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other.
And now I'm asking, Golda, Do you love me?
Eventually, of course, Golda admits that after 25 years she has learned to love Tevye, and Tevye returns the favor.
The words are striking to me because I have had the same experience in my life. Well, not exactly the same …. But I have often found myself thrown together with people that I did not know at all. And even in just a year’s time living and working with them, I came to love them – even when our time together began in fighting and disagreement. Strange, isn’t it, how sharing a bathroom or a living room or dinner time can change your perception of someone?!
But it’s more than that, I suppose. It’s more than just sharing space that opens our eyes and our hearts to the people we love in our lives. It’s the time we spend talking and listening to one another that helps us to understand what lies underneath the surface impressions and posturing of the people we meet. It’s that vision of who they really are that lets us let go of the little frustrations and the way others rub us the wrong way. It’s the relationships that we build with them that frees us embrace them with all their faults and all their brilliance – to embrace them in love for who they are and who they want to be.
Perhaps that’s the answer. I still wonder if love can be taught, but perhaps love can be learned through relationships.
When Jesus gave guidance about the commandments in the Sermon on the Mount, he told us to look beyond the rules to the motivation. “You have heard it said, ‘you shall not murder,” but I say to you if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment. You have heard it said, ‘you shall not commit adultery,’ but I say to you that everyone who looks at a [another] with lust has already committed adultery. You have heard it said, ‘you shall love your neighbor,’ but I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
When Jesus spoke of the measure of faithful living in his description of the Day of the Lord, he said that the blessed would be those who met the need they found in the world. They fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and cared for the sick and imprisoned. They did all this not for the sake of following rules or with a thought for their reward.
And so should we – follow the example of those sheep in Jesus’ prophetic vision of the final judgment. We should reach out to those in need around us in love – a love that we will surely learn if we truly follow their lead. For, those disciples got their hands dirty. They did not settle, as we so often do, for donating money or taking their left over, tired old clothes to the Goodwill or sending off a card to a shut-in when they remembered. They met the people they reached out to. They welcomed them into their lives – strangers or no. They brought them into the house to offer the hospitality of food and drink. They took clothes to them in their homes. They stayed with them when they were sick, cleaning them and feeding them and emptying their chamber pots.
All these things they did in love, love that grew in them as they got to know those they helped. Each time they reached out to another person they learned to understand and live the law of love a little more fully. And, who among us does not need to understand that law more fully?
Perhaps if we can find or make the time to reach out and touch the need in the world around us – hand out sack lunches at the Baptist Church, talk with lonely people in nursing homes, or volunteer with Bartlett House – perhaps with each new relationship we build along the way, we too will learn a little more and a little more and a little more. One day, we may even look around and find that we are standing on the other side of the looking glass holding the key in our hands.
May it be so.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
True Confessions of a Midwife
sermon monologue by Carrie Eikler
Romans 13:1-8; Exodus 1:8-22
Whew. What a morning. I can’t wait to sit with my cup of tea and my magazine. I’ve just got back from Arthurdale. The work of a homebirth midwife takes you all over. There aren’t many of us around anymore. Women want the comfort of the big hospitals.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I can understand their reasons. Things do go wrong with births. Very wrong. For me and the women I work with, we know this. But we also know that there is nothing wrong with birth. It’s natural. Women’s bodies are made to do it, and for centuries, heck, for thousands and thousands of years women have been trained to help other women bring babies into the world.
But… there are scary moments…whew, really scary moments. Like this morning. What a doozy.
So yeah, I get this call at like, 5:20 this morning. I was having this really great dream about being on the beach in Florida, reading an Agatha Christie novel when out of the water comes this submarine filled with dark chocolate and is playing my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs and would you guess it, out of the submarine pops Antonio Ba--…well, you don’t want to hear about that.
Anyway, the phone rings and Brian is on the phone. Brian’s wife Clara is one of the women I’m working with. She’s not due for three weeks, and Brian sounds tired and a bit nervous. He tells me Clara thinks it’s time. She woke up a half hour ago with some uncomfortable contractions. I get this all the time. Since Clara has already had a child, I expect she knows what she’s feeling is really it, but I tell them to wait a half an hour and call me back. I lay back down, but try not to fall asleep because you know it’s always harder to get up once you fall back asleep than if you just stay up.
Well, I just thought about the dark chocolate Simon and Garfunkel submarine instead of dreaming about it, and about 5 minutes later I get a call. It’s Brian. “The head! I can see the head!” You bet I was bounding out of bed at that.
Well, Arthurdale is about 15 minutes away from my home here so you can imagine…I don't know if I will make it or not. I'm speeding down the curvy roads praying "Please God let her wait! Let her wait!" But when a baby's coming, there's no convincing a woman in labor to stop what she's doing, just so the midwife can get there!
I was only hoping that everything was fine with the delivery, that nothing was wrong with Clara and the baby, that Brian was holding it together. I pull up to their home, bound out of the car, burst inside and Clara is on the bed and sure enough…the baby's coming! And it's not all fine, because the baby's hand is pressed against her head…like she is trying to zoom into this world like superwoman! It can make for a pretty nasty delivery.
But, it's something I've dealt with many times before. I tell Clara to hold on for 30 more seconds. I get my hands washed, my gloves on, I do the move I've done dozens of times before--quite skillfully, if I do say so myself-- and pull the baby's hand free from the head, and she tumbles into my hands. All in about a minute.*
Well, mother and baby are fine. A little shook up. One hour-long labors are not common. I kind of laugh because, even if they tried to get in their car and get to MonGeneral, that baby would have come in the back of their Suburu Forrester. That Clara is amazing. Not many women could endure that…
(chuckle) the things you witness as a midwife. We sure have our stories. Amazing stories, and yes, some tragic stories. But LIFE stories. We witness over and over again the pain and the joy and the miracle of life!
(Sigh) But midwives still aren't so accepted in this society. Don't get me wrong, we're definitely gaining ground. But we've sort of lost our place, the respect that we used to have. It is definitely a calling…it's not for everyone.
(Drink tea and laugh) You know, what happened this morning with Clara and Brian and little Lucy--oh, that's what they called the baby, Lucy--it reminds me of a midwife story. You see, since the lives of midwives aren't documented as well as the lives of doctors and surgeons throughout time, you have to look hard to find the midwives in history. But they're there, alright.
Anyway, I'm reminded of this story in the Old Testament…in Exodus I think it is. You know, that book where Moses leads his people out of slavery into the promise land…at least, you've seen the movie, right? Anyway, BEFORE Moses was born there was a King of Egypt who was scared because the population of these foreigners, the Israelites, were growing.
So he thought, "Well, that's not a good thing for me. First off, they won’t learn the language, they are using up all our social services…But secondly, what if they join my enemies and rise up against me?" So he took them all up and made them his slaves, they basically built Egypt on their backs. But they kept growing and this paranoid king was all "Oh, they could still do something to me Oh! Oh!" So he says that the moment any Israelite boy is born he should be killed. (chuckle) apparently girls weren't a threat. Girls make good slaves. Boys make good soldiers…or terrorists.
So who are the best people to kill new life? Well, those who are meant to bring new life, of course. He told all the midwives that when a woman gives birth to take the boys and kill them. But two midwives, Shiphrah and…and, Puah, that's it Puah, they decide not to do it. Of course, they don't tell the king that. They would probably be killed themselves. But they do their job. They do what they were meant to do…their obligation to help usher in life.
You can imagine what the king thought when he saw all these baby boys in swaddling clothes. He's like "What is this? I told you to kill them." And do you know, those midwives lie right to his face! They say, "Hey these Israelite women are so strong, those babies are already born by the time we get there!" Like Clara, and Lucy…almost.
I read somewhere, that this is the first act of civil disobedience in the Bible. The first time people say no to an oppressive force…to the state. And it was two midwives! Of course, it doesn't surprise me, but I bet it surprises most people.
Most people don't know that story. Or if they do, they know it because what these two women did made it possible for Moses to be born and live. And if Moses wasn't born… we'll I guess the Israelites would still be building up Egypt.
But you know, I think it's a good enough story on its own. I mean, OK, it was important for the whole religious thing that Moses was born, but I think what these women did was a religious act in and of itself. Sure they lied, but apparently God was happy with them--for what they did-- because I think the scriptures say God blessed them.
It's not often we think that God might bless us for doing something that is disobedient. Well, I guess it wasn't just civil disobedience…but divine obedience. (chuckle) Maybe that's why we don't hear this story much in church.
ANYway, some people might wonder what sort of chutzpah these ladies had to stand up to the most powerful man in the country. I remember the story says something about "they feared God." Now, I'm not so big on this fearing God thing. I don't necessarily see God as something to be scared of.
Maybe it's because I see the vulnerability of new life all the time…and that's one way God came to us! You know, Jesus coming as a baby--all slimy and bloody and cold and crying…and vulnerable. Wouldn’t make a very pretty Christmas card, I guess.
But in someway, I can understand this fear. There's lots of fear when new life comes into this world. Fear is something that grabs a hold of you. Maybe that's how they experienced fearing God, as God grabbing a hold of them…or maybe they grabbed hold of God. But not in some violent sort of grabbing. Like, what we do when a baby is born: we grab it, secure it, welcome it into the world
I mean, these midwives literally had to grab a hold of life so much--that was their purpose, they just knew that God wanted life in this world…even the life of these foreigners, these people the state thought would become terrorists. They were entrusted with life. That was their calling. To To listen to the king and to kill, they would have had to let go of God…let go of the thing that helped them bring in new life.
(Thoughtful) You know I think I do what I do--you know, being a midwife--because I'm holding onto God, that God led me in someway to do this, that somehow what I do is important, Kind of like Shiphrah and Puah. They didn’t know that just by doing what they were meant to do would somehow play into a larger birth—the birth of a people from slavery. But it sure did.
But even if I try, I don’t think I’ll totally understand what God wants in this world. Or even…if I am totally sure I know what God wants me to be doing. I mean, I think I get pieces at a time. But each little thing I do I think is important in and of themselves, but also maybe part of something bigger—helping women trust themselves, find strength through their birth, feel cared for and empowered.
Even during those births that are scary, the ones you don’t know how they’ll end up…I trust something will guide me—either my skill, or my intuition, maybe God! Maybe, just the baby that’s being born shows me what needs to happen. So maybe that’s what Shiphrah and Puah felt like--they knew these births needed to happen. They couldn’t stand in the way, and go against their purpose. Maybe they held God so closely to them, like they way we hold that baby when it’s born, they just could sense what needed to be done...just sense what God wanted them to do. (shaking head) But figuring out how they would get away with it, now, that was pretty impressive.
(Waving away) I don't know. All I know is that it is a darn good story. It gives me hope and strength, and maybe a little chutzpah too. It's a shame more people don't know this story.
Well, I've got to get to my midwives’ meeting. We get together once a week and share about the births we’ve attended recently (Chuckling and Standing Up) Just wait till they hear about this morning. I mean, really, I hardly did anything. I got there, did a few maneuvers, and out she came. Clara and Lucy did all the work. I was just there to hold on when she came. (Shake head) M-m-mm what a story.
(*this birth story is a true story of a friend of mine!)
Romans 13:1-8; Exodus 1:8-22
Whew. What a morning. I can’t wait to sit with my cup of tea and my magazine. I’ve just got back from Arthurdale. The work of a homebirth midwife takes you all over. There aren’t many of us around anymore. Women want the comfort of the big hospitals.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I can understand their reasons. Things do go wrong with births. Very wrong. For me and the women I work with, we know this. But we also know that there is nothing wrong with birth. It’s natural. Women’s bodies are made to do it, and for centuries, heck, for thousands and thousands of years women have been trained to help other women bring babies into the world.
But… there are scary moments…whew, really scary moments. Like this morning. What a doozy.
So yeah, I get this call at like, 5:20 this morning. I was having this really great dream about being on the beach in Florida, reading an Agatha Christie novel when out of the water comes this submarine filled with dark chocolate and is playing my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs and would you guess it, out of the submarine pops Antonio Ba--…well, you don’t want to hear about that.
Anyway, the phone rings and Brian is on the phone. Brian’s wife Clara is one of the women I’m working with. She’s not due for three weeks, and Brian sounds tired and a bit nervous. He tells me Clara thinks it’s time. She woke up a half hour ago with some uncomfortable contractions. I get this all the time. Since Clara has already had a child, I expect she knows what she’s feeling is really it, but I tell them to wait a half an hour and call me back. I lay back down, but try not to fall asleep because you know it’s always harder to get up once you fall back asleep than if you just stay up.
Well, I just thought about the dark chocolate Simon and Garfunkel submarine instead of dreaming about it, and about 5 minutes later I get a call. It’s Brian. “The head! I can see the head!” You bet I was bounding out of bed at that.
Well, Arthurdale is about 15 minutes away from my home here so you can imagine…I don't know if I will make it or not. I'm speeding down the curvy roads praying "Please God let her wait! Let her wait!" But when a baby's coming, there's no convincing a woman in labor to stop what she's doing, just so the midwife can get there!
I was only hoping that everything was fine with the delivery, that nothing was wrong with Clara and the baby, that Brian was holding it together. I pull up to their home, bound out of the car, burst inside and Clara is on the bed and sure enough…the baby's coming! And it's not all fine, because the baby's hand is pressed against her head…like she is trying to zoom into this world like superwoman! It can make for a pretty nasty delivery.
But, it's something I've dealt with many times before. I tell Clara to hold on for 30 more seconds. I get my hands washed, my gloves on, I do the move I've done dozens of times before--quite skillfully, if I do say so myself-- and pull the baby's hand free from the head, and she tumbles into my hands. All in about a minute.*
Well, mother and baby are fine. A little shook up. One hour-long labors are not common. I kind of laugh because, even if they tried to get in their car and get to MonGeneral, that baby would have come in the back of their Suburu Forrester. That Clara is amazing. Not many women could endure that…
(chuckle) the things you witness as a midwife. We sure have our stories. Amazing stories, and yes, some tragic stories. But LIFE stories. We witness over and over again the pain and the joy and the miracle of life!
(Sigh) But midwives still aren't so accepted in this society. Don't get me wrong, we're definitely gaining ground. But we've sort of lost our place, the respect that we used to have. It is definitely a calling…it's not for everyone.
(Drink tea and laugh) You know, what happened this morning with Clara and Brian and little Lucy--oh, that's what they called the baby, Lucy--it reminds me of a midwife story. You see, since the lives of midwives aren't documented as well as the lives of doctors and surgeons throughout time, you have to look hard to find the midwives in history. But they're there, alright.
Anyway, I'm reminded of this story in the Old Testament…in Exodus I think it is. You know, that book where Moses leads his people out of slavery into the promise land…at least, you've seen the movie, right? Anyway, BEFORE Moses was born there was a King of Egypt who was scared because the population of these foreigners, the Israelites, were growing.
So he thought, "Well, that's not a good thing for me. First off, they won’t learn the language, they are using up all our social services…But secondly, what if they join my enemies and rise up against me?" So he took them all up and made them his slaves, they basically built Egypt on their backs. But they kept growing and this paranoid king was all "Oh, they could still do something to me Oh! Oh!" So he says that the moment any Israelite boy is born he should be killed. (chuckle) apparently girls weren't a threat. Girls make good slaves. Boys make good soldiers…or terrorists.
So who are the best people to kill new life? Well, those who are meant to bring new life, of course. He told all the midwives that when a woman gives birth to take the boys and kill them. But two midwives, Shiphrah and…and, Puah, that's it Puah, they decide not to do it. Of course, they don't tell the king that. They would probably be killed themselves. But they do their job. They do what they were meant to do…their obligation to help usher in life.
You can imagine what the king thought when he saw all these baby boys in swaddling clothes. He's like "What is this? I told you to kill them." And do you know, those midwives lie right to his face! They say, "Hey these Israelite women are so strong, those babies are already born by the time we get there!" Like Clara, and Lucy…almost.
I read somewhere, that this is the first act of civil disobedience in the Bible. The first time people say no to an oppressive force…to the state. And it was two midwives! Of course, it doesn't surprise me, but I bet it surprises most people.
Most people don't know that story. Or if they do, they know it because what these two women did made it possible for Moses to be born and live. And if Moses wasn't born… we'll I guess the Israelites would still be building up Egypt.
But you know, I think it's a good enough story on its own. I mean, OK, it was important for the whole religious thing that Moses was born, but I think what these women did was a religious act in and of itself. Sure they lied, but apparently God was happy with them--for what they did-- because I think the scriptures say God blessed them.
It's not often we think that God might bless us for doing something that is disobedient. Well, I guess it wasn't just civil disobedience…but divine obedience. (chuckle) Maybe that's why we don't hear this story much in church.
ANYway, some people might wonder what sort of chutzpah these ladies had to stand up to the most powerful man in the country. I remember the story says something about "they feared God." Now, I'm not so big on this fearing God thing. I don't necessarily see God as something to be scared of.
Maybe it's because I see the vulnerability of new life all the time…and that's one way God came to us! You know, Jesus coming as a baby--all slimy and bloody and cold and crying…and vulnerable. Wouldn’t make a very pretty Christmas card, I guess.
But in someway, I can understand this fear. There's lots of fear when new life comes into this world. Fear is something that grabs a hold of you. Maybe that's how they experienced fearing God, as God grabbing a hold of them…or maybe they grabbed hold of God. But not in some violent sort of grabbing. Like, what we do when a baby is born: we grab it, secure it, welcome it into the world
I mean, these midwives literally had to grab a hold of life so much--that was their purpose, they just knew that God wanted life in this world…even the life of these foreigners, these people the state thought would become terrorists. They were entrusted with life. That was their calling. To To listen to the king and to kill, they would have had to let go of God…let go of the thing that helped them bring in new life.
(Thoughtful) You know I think I do what I do--you know, being a midwife--because I'm holding onto God, that God led me in someway to do this, that somehow what I do is important, Kind of like Shiphrah and Puah. They didn’t know that just by doing what they were meant to do would somehow play into a larger birth—the birth of a people from slavery. But it sure did.
But even if I try, I don’t think I’ll totally understand what God wants in this world. Or even…if I am totally sure I know what God wants me to be doing. I mean, I think I get pieces at a time. But each little thing I do I think is important in and of themselves, but also maybe part of something bigger—helping women trust themselves, find strength through their birth, feel cared for and empowered.
Even during those births that are scary, the ones you don’t know how they’ll end up…I trust something will guide me—either my skill, or my intuition, maybe God! Maybe, just the baby that’s being born shows me what needs to happen. So maybe that’s what Shiphrah and Puah felt like--they knew these births needed to happen. They couldn’t stand in the way, and go against their purpose. Maybe they held God so closely to them, like they way we hold that baby when it’s born, they just could sense what needed to be done...just sense what God wanted them to do. (shaking head) But figuring out how they would get away with it, now, that was pretty impressive.
(Waving away) I don't know. All I know is that it is a darn good story. It gives me hope and strength, and maybe a little chutzpah too. It's a shame more people don't know this story.
Well, I've got to get to my midwives’ meeting. We get together once a week and share about the births we’ve attended recently (Chuckling and Standing Up) Just wait till they hear about this morning. I mean, really, I hardly did anything. I got there, did a few maneuvers, and out she came. Clara and Lucy did all the work. I was just there to hold on when she came. (Shake head) M-m-mm what a story.
(*this birth story is a true story of a friend of mine!)
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