January 18, 2015 John 1:43-51

SECOND SCRIPTURE READING (PASTOR)
John 1:43-51

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee.

He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.”

Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

“Come and see.”

When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!”

“Where did you get to know me?”

“I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

“Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

“Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these. Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

SERMON (PASTOR)

My friend Liam, is a good sport and regularly will go camping with my my two best friends and I, and before you think, ‘Hey, thats not a bad deal,’ you need to know that its pretty much going camping with three of me. There is an obscene amount of giggling, excitement, and girl talk, not to mention actual occasional skipping. Liam, puts up with a lot, and in one of these instances, when he was hangry, craving an InandOutBurger, and driving three Daisys, who were dissing his food choice and probably playing some music like the Cranberries and singing along, Liam said, “Everyone has the right to be left alone.” I’d never thought of it before, as I am usually the one who is always bugging people to play. I am the one who woke up first at sleepovers in middle school, as my friends would burry their heads in pillows until I gave up and would go make conversation with their parents in the kitchen, and when there was a slight stirring, I was known to take pictures of their morning faces and messy hair - the early risers trick - as the last ones to sleep have theirs too.

I think Nathanael in this passage is like Liam, or my friends as teenagers, just wanting to be left alone, and I think that Jesus gets that they have a right to. Now you could read this passage the other way, that when Nathanael says, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” he says it completely sincerely, but to me, I don't see how Jesus noticing Nathanael under the fig tree makes Jesus the Son of God. Plus, I tend to avoid the goody-two-shoes Biblical interpretations, just as I do in friends. Liam in fact, is from Boston and was the one I sassed the most in college that New Englanders never smile when you pass them. They just bunker down and walk fast, as if it was always blowing cold snow and they had forgotten their scarf. Liam, also had easily figured out just how gullible I was at that point in my life. Jesus could have come up to me and I would have followed him, and run and got Liam, like, ‘Come on Curmudgeon, and see this really cool thing, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” And Liam, quick and sarcastic as he is, would have responded “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” But me, still pleading, would say, “Come and see.” And then it would start, Jesus and Liam, would go back and forth completely sarcastically,

When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Like making some Beantown joke that would go over my head, and Liam saying, “Where did you get to know me?” They both knowing that Jesus hadn’t. Jesus responding, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” and Liam, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” and Jesus, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.”

This is how I read this scripture, and perhaps Nazareth was also a New England sort of culture, because I think Jesus too respects that everyone has the right to be left alone. He doesn’t try to convince, Nathanael, he doesn’t make Nathanael believe. Jesus just tells of his experience, his hope and his love. “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” This too is my theology, because I have been a Nathanael, and a Phillip, and sharing our faith isn’t about convincing; you can’t convince a quick, sarcastic wit. All you can do is share your experience and offer it there like bait. Jesus, a fisher of men, knew this.

He shared his experience and left it there, and I wonder how different our world be if we did the same. I think about what is happening in France and in Germany; people are taking up sides, and protesting through sarcasm, violence and threats, one side against the other, but you can’t convince people with a quick, sarcastic wit, no matter how funny your cartoon. You can coerce, but you can’t convince people with violence, no matter how many you kill, and I’m pretty sure, the more you kill - the less you convince. You can’t convince people with threats or with fear. You can’t convince people by xenophobicly marching against, ‘them.’ All those things do is help us to feel pretty smug in, ‘our side,’ and others justified in, ‘theirs.’ I wonder how different our world would be if we just let people be, if we let them sit under the fig tree, and simply offer our experience, our hope and our love, because sharing faith isn’t about convincing, its about loving.

Also in this week’s news, there was mosque that was bombed in Sweden, where, on average, one mosque is attacked each month. There, and in the face of rising Islamophobia throughout Europe, the people responded by Love-Bombing the mosque. Hundreds of paper hearts, with notes of care and solidarity covered the walls with love after it had been struck with unyielding hate. That is sharing faith; it is sharing love and hope. In our own community, what if sharing faith looked less like separating out believers, and agnostics, and atheists and instead offering gifts to all those who participated in confirmation, no matter if they chose to join the church or not. What if faith looked more like my friend Sheri, who will tell people that God loves them, or offer a blessing, but is ever so careful to make sure she is doing so out of love and offering rather than push. What if sharing our faith, looked like leaving people under the fig tree if that’s where they want to be, joking with them if that’s their common banter, and if they want to follow, then telling them how you have seen a hundreds of paper hearts, the love of God ascending and descending, and that, that love can be seen no matter if you are a goody-two-shoes, rejoicing, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” or if you say the same thing completely sarcastically. What if sharing faith was loving people where they are, and for who they are, even if it means my friends and I sometimes having to eat an In-And-Out-Burger or letting Liam choose the music if he is not ready for a three part serenade of chick-rock. Maybe its letting people know they are loved just the same whether they choose to sit under the fig tree or hear of the way you saw the heavens opened and the angels of God ascending and descending.

January 11, 2015 Mark 1:4 - 11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.  And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

***

I am a swimmer, and to me that means much less about racing and swimming pools then it does the feeling of hovering. The way when I zipper my arms up my sides, I can trace, with no more than the pads of my fingers, the joining of air and water, and disturb it just enough, that with each stroke comes the patterned out beat - of reach, and place, and pull, and fingertip drag - a round of arms, the same melody, opposing times. Similarly, there is nothing else in the entire world I would rather do then hold my breath and hover horizontal under the water, then clasp my streamlined arms, and with merely my circling stomach set myself to spin, until the currant of my making becomes a whirlpool of its own, and with it, the force I created becomes a force beyond my control, and so I let go, releasing my arms and legs to spiral out, until I like a tire swing, I slow and come to rest, and find my way up. Through the water, I look for the sky, the cirrus of clouds floating just like me, hovering between worlds, until with burst of breath I break the surface, myself becoming the in-between that cannot forever stay, but in that moment is - the joining of air, and water, of heaven and earth, and me surrounded. This, this is what I imagine Jesus’ baptism to be, a hovering surrounded between worlds. 

The scripture speaks of Jesus, “just as he was coming up out of the water,” and I imagine him holding his breath and from just below the surface watching the sky. I imagine on this day, and at that moment, the clouds split and between them was that sunshine, that like the brightest neon, was too painful to look at directly, but too enticing to look away, the guided touch of the heavens torn apart. I imagine that moment when he exhaled his last in the world below, and came up to that above, gasping in that breath of life that fills your empty lungs completely, and in his resurrection from the tomb of water, I imagine him greeted by sunbeams - like doves, floating, flying, hovering, dancing down to earth the ethereal, and with them that warmth that kisses your face, blushing your cheeks pink, a kiss from the Beloved which surrounds you in the pleasure of that place between worlds, the Baptism of our Lord. 

January 4, 2015 Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking,

“Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”

When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him,

“In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying,

“Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

***


One of my favorite questions is, “If you could invite someone, throughout history, to a dinner party, who would it be?

Many people assume, as a pastor, I would say Jesus, as it does seem to be the correct answer for any Christian, but I imagine it would be a little like inviting both a goody two-shoes, and a protester into your home, not exactly a fun dinner party either way, and combined sounds even worse. Deb Trapp came up with the current Pope for her answer in Lectionary Bible Study, and I get it. He seems to get it more than perhaps any other religious figure since Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and in some ways inviting either of them would be a little like inviting Jesus, fascinating - but perhaps not very fun. I tend to lean toward fun, and therefore, for years now, I have said I would pick Willie Nelson. Once described as the least famous seeming, famous person, I think he would couple good stories with a practical unpretentiousness, which, probably is the source of many of those wild, yet grounded, tales he seems to exude. I think with Willie, I wouldn’t have to worry. I wouldn’t even have to call him Mr. Nelson, and I think he would be just as enthused about paper plated finger-lickin' BBQ, as he would some cassoulet on Blue Willow. He just seems down to earth.___

And so, I think about the wisemen, and that Jesus was the famous person that they chose to meet. Perhaps the wisemen were more goody-two shoes than I - bringing their fancy gifts, and more prone to protesting then I - going home by another road. Maybe they just had more in common with Jesus. Perhaps they could relate to him, or at least hoped to, being the most learned of their time having studied the scriptures and the stars, maybe it was because they were kings like he, or maybe relative proximity played a part, the ability to travel to Jesus, like my scheming that Willie is a Texan and I know a few of his haunts, like Luchenbach, or Floores Country Store. Maybe for the wisemen Jesus just seem closer, more attainable. When I imagine Jesus as this lofty figure perhaps to them, coming to Jesus was coming to see God brought down to earth.

And if I think about it that way, I know I too have traveled to see Jesus, and continue to be surprised at how close he is at hand. This is because I have sat with so many of you, you whose stories bring me closer to God, who reflection of Christ brings the divine down to earth. I think of Jason McClaughry telling the Confirmation Class how being a geologist is an expression of his faith, like Rev. Thomas Condon before him, and I think of the rocks Jason brought as if they were offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh, and the youth touching each one over, and even in their quiet being moved, for in the expression of faith Jason illuminated Jesus was brought down to earth. In the same course, I think of Lynn conveying to the youth the grace he felt through his adoption which inspires him to return that grace through the offerings of he and Deb’s mission work, and I think of their gifts in the patient and nurturing interactions with our youth through days and days of our summer mission trip and there before us the divine was made tangible. I think of when Spencer pondered how little recognition Joseph, the father of Jesus, receives, or Michelle, after finding a version of Mary and Joseph to which she could relate, articulated that their humanness made Jesus feel closer at hand. Through the words of our youth, in those instances, the holy could be seen walking among us, and we payed homage. I think of these things and realize that out there in the church playground grass in the early Autumn of the year, I too was kneeling before Jesus, that the divine was brought down to earth in the people of God. I went to Charlie’s this week and Evan clearly and profoundly articulated why he sought to be confirmed and baptized, “because,” he said, “I feel like it is the first step in a journey of learning what the Lord has in store for me,” and there with my chill cheese dog, like a down-home paper plate of BBQ, I saw the holy child in the openness of the teenager before me. Likewise, deeply sunken into the leather couches with wretched posture and hearing the piercing coffee grind interrupting Sorbenots old school dance music, Jesus could be seen in Calli as she explained her faith. Like the magi, I had seen the star at its rising, as I have watched Calli grow into this faith during our trips and youth group gatherings, and there I was, bad posture and all, watching the place the star had stopped above the child and I was overjoyed. Jesus was brought down to earth and there I was paying homage to Christ by hearing the witness of the faith of our community.

These are the most recent moments that come to mind, but in this congregation I have heard so many more from so many of you, and I always am in awe and surprised when I do. I forget that I don’t need to take some pilgrimage back in time, and accompany wise men or attempt to be as learned, bringing gifts beyond my means. I do not need to finagle some trip back to Texas to meet Willie, or to the vatican to see the Pope, but instead simply get to walk down the street and meet you over chili cheese dogs, or loud coffee, or in the grass of our playground and there, in you, I will witness, Jesus, God brought down to earth.