August 23, 2015

Mark 7:1–8, 14–15, 21–23

Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around Jesus, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) 

So the Pharisees and the scribes asked Jesus, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” 

Jesus said to Pharisees, 

“Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written, 

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.” 

Then Jesus called the crowd again and said to them, 

“Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.” 

***

You know there is social faux pas involved in not washing your hands when they created an entire Senfield episode around it. Jerry is at his girlfriend’s father’s restaurant, both men are in the bathroom, and the father doesn’t wash his hands before cooking. Therefore Jerry doesn't eat, and subsequently his girlfriend dumps him. Similarly, and less comical is the truly life or death consequence of those in hospitals transmitting infection if they don’t wash their hands from room to room, or from outside in. I know we are always supposed to be against the scribes and the Pharisees, but in this case they make an important point. Washing your hands is a good thing. 

They are the leaders of the community, and there are practices that keep the community healthy. Their warning is like the signs with smiley-face chariticures of germs in restaurants, “All employees must wash their hands.” and in hospitals, “Soap up upon entering and leaving.” I don’t blame the Pharisees on this one. In fact, I think they are right in some ways.

The disciples have been going town to town, home to home, in and out of boats, in contact with the sick and the poor, and at the end of one of these long days they sit down to eat and with dirt on their hands, grime under their nails, and countless germs. Its like at youth group, the youth walk in sweaty from practice, basketballs have been passed, locker rooms entered and exited, handles and knobs and steering wheels grabbed, and unfortunately cell phones with their touch screens smeared. As Luke gathers them for prayer, we hold hands around the circle and I am highly conscious of those hands. After the Amen, I remind them, “Wash your hands.” Sometimes, I am washing mine again after the prayer depending on if I myself witnessed the youth, with whom I held hands, wash their hands prior.  I don’t blame the Pharisees on this one; I don't blame them for what they are saying. They are right. I blame them for how they say it. 

The Pharisees and the scribes asked Jesus, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” The Pharisees are not giving gentle advice, they are slinging judgments. They are saying the hands of these outsiders are defiled, and I wonder how many times we have done the same. I read an article the other day from the Week Magazine, "In a bid to rid the city of the smell of urine, officials in San Francisco have begun coating walls near bars and areas frequented by the homeless with a special liquid-resistant paint that repels pee. “The urine will bounce back on the guys’ pants and shoes,” said a spokesperson. “The idea is they will think twice next time about urinating in public.” Requests for the pee-proof paint are pouring in." The Week Magazine. I thought of another idea. More public bathrooms. San Francisco is trying to fix the problem not the cause. What about more rehab and counseling centers, or housing the homeless? How would that cut down on public urination? I think how sometimes we treat foreigners as similarly dirty, how many times I have walked into a bathroom and seen shoe prints on the toilet seat and somehow told myself their shoe marks were dirtier then hundreds of bottoms on that same seat, when in fact to squat down low is healthier than to sit, and would take care of the need for sanitary paper seat covers. Who is dirtier? Likewise, I think about the political rhetoric that deems Spanish speaking immigrants from below our border to be criminals though we Americans feed the drug trade that murders their own for our own hunger. Who are the criminals? I think about the number of times I drive by houses with old cars and various equipment and parts and I think of how trashy it makes the home look, ignoring the possible source of income when just the right person needs just the specific part and trash becomes reusing and sustainability. Who is the trashy one me or them? Perhaps the disciples, once fishermen are now the migrant workers, the homeless, of our time. When you are out in the field, or unwelcome on city streets, where do you wash your hands? 

On our youth mission trip one day we designated a spot behind a haystack as the bathroom, another day was between the rows of a corn field, then we’d break for lunch, with the hunger of hard work and no sink, none of us washed our hands, not even me, and we ate. Someone might have seen us sitting to eat, that may not have seen the work of God the youth had done, and I wonder if the Pharisees had come up to our leader, Luke and said, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” I would hope he would respond similarly to Jesus, 

“Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written, 

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.” 

Jesus is right. There are a lot more important things than washing your hands. Doing the work of God being one of them. Hygiene may be important and indeed essential to the health of the community, but what is a healthy community that cannot welcome the outsider, that cannot look upon itself and its own rituals with question and perspective. That is not a community of God. I don’t see us spending time harping on the importance of washing hands at Open Door (which feeds Middle School kids breakfast from our basement), or before Fellowship Hour after worship, there are more important things at hand. And there are a lot worse things then grubby fingers on a breakfast biscuit, or a fruit tray. There are kids who are hungry and need a place not to be harped on, there are congregants and visitors to welcome. What is important is being the people of God. 

That said, I wonder what of our own rituals would become less important if we welcomed the outsiders, the homeless, the immigrant, the impoverished, the migrant worker. I wonder what we would deem dirty or have a hard time putting in perspective. Would we open up our building for a public restroom, or have signs in different languages, how might we look at our own abundance of trash with resourcefulness. What would we have to give up? What is truly important in being the people of God?

August 16, Mark 6:30 – 34, 53-56

A couple things to note: 

The scripture has Jesus and the disciples trying to find a place to rest but being bombarded by the needs of the people, the lectionary skips a big chunk in the middle of these two scenes, which is Jesus feeding the 5,000.

Additionally, the sermon will go back and forth from the scripture to the present day, weaving the two stories. 

Mark 6:30 – 34, 53-56

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of the disciples and Jesus. As Jesus went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. 

When the disciples had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized Jesus, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed. 

***

Many disciples were coming and going and they had no leisure even to eat. It was coffee for breakfast and meetings for lunch. It was scant vacations with no e-mail or text left un-replied and an inbox somehow still full to the brim. It was the to-do list at work, the errands out and about and the chores beckoning at home. It was grocery shopping and making family dinner, and carpools and kid’s sports, and homework help, and things to sign and the morning starting again early the next day. It was friends with whom to catch up and thank yous to write, and giving neighbors goodie bags of fruit. It was church, and committees, and session, and Lions, and work deadlines, and bills and balancing the checkbook. It was everyone coming and going, the disciples then, and we disciples now with no leisure to even eat. 

And Jesus said to the disciples,“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while,” Jesus told you to take time to enjoy this late summer, with family trips to Yellowstone, or horseback rides with friends and grandkids, and kayak expeditions before college, and Alaska with grandkids, and adventures on motorcycles, trips to Portland and family weddings and a Serria Club Trip at Moltnomah Falls. And so the disciples then and we disciples now went away in the boat,

Now many saw the disciples going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them, overhead the sky was still black with smoke and spiderwebs were littered with confettis of ash, the backyard birds were chirping frantically yet neighborhoods sat like ghost towns - no children at play on this summer day, inside their homes the sound of helicopters pulsed the stale windows-shut-air, leaving a feeling of trapped already. On the streets of town, white government trucks moved, as if in slow-motion, their sirens pending the next update, they mirroring the townspeople monitoring maps and evacuation levels and fire boundaries. Despite the disciples then, and we disciples now, need for sanctuary, the community pressed into our holiest places. And as Jesus went ashore, at the place he intended to find solace, he saw a great crowd; there in front on the boat was,

Elk Creek Lane to Griffin Gulch, Old Auburn Road, Durkee, the Bridgeport Area, Interstate 84 East and Westbound lanes, Hyw 7, the Greater Bowen Valley, French Gulch, Forest Road 77 near Tamarack Campground, Main Eagle and Bennett Peak, Kitchen Creek Rd., Dry Creek Cutoff Rd., Dry Creek Rd., Deer Creek Rd., Burnt River Canyon Rd., Hixon Rd., Troy Rd., and the Pleasant Valley, Black Mountain, Rancheria Creek, Denny Creek, Beaver Creek, Alder Creek and Ebell Road, Sutton Creek, and Stices Gulch Road, all the way back to Huntington. And Jesus, and you, had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

The teaching began with the Forest Service, with Joe Sullivan guiding Kate Averett fulfilling the last days of her summer work under 100 foot blazes, then Keith Romtvedt volunteer firefighting alongside prisoners and sleeping out in the blazing storm, with Danny O’Neal up North following in his mother’s footsteps, and continuing with Lynn Roehm called in to lead at the most pressing sites from nearby to Vale. More firefighters were summoned from Portland and the governor issued an order bringing in structure protection crews. And with greater numbers fighting then ever on record, thousands were fed the bread of life, and livelihood, and safekeeping and that was a sanctuary unto itself. 

When they got out of the boat, the disciples rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard Jesus was. A mat was carried as friends came out and helped Kevin Lee pack up his belongings and church members called and offered prayer and a place to stay. A mat was carried as Annalea continually tried to reach Candy Arledge while Susan Triplett and Alice Trindle hoisted mats, taking in Candy’s horse as well as other’s. Sharon Defrees brought a mat as she called Nancy Johnson and Shannon to offer comfort and wisdom having been through a previous timber fire on the Defrees Ranch. Two different daughters drove the backroads along Anthony Lakes Hwy all the way to Sumpter carrying mats and in once a horse trailer and grandkids to which Dallas and Clarissa. Mardelle Ebell’s family, visiting on vacation from D.C., took over the mat of coordination for their family property and livestock. Luke carried the mat of checking in with Sarah and Mary-Lou McNeil and the heavier mat of helping support me. Gary Yeoumans lived up to his title as Deacon in charge of visitation and connected and prayed with handfuls of people on their mats. Karen -Kolb Schoneigh took charge of reaching out, accessing needs and providing mats for church evacuees, Presbyterian Disaster Assistance and Linda Toth offered mats of national denominational resources. Rev.s Keith and Laura Hudson in LaGrande, offered support as well as the mat of humor teasing their child to do a rain dance and offered him to blame for its lack when he was unwilling. Jim Kauth offered the mat of words of encouragement to me and Rev. Marci Glass and her friend Ruth offered the mat of wisdom that ministry didn’t have to be just me. And it wasn’t, it was you, the disciples, carrying the sick on mats throughout our whole region, that wherever Jesus went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces.

and because of the dire need the sick begged Jesus that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; but they didn’t need to beg, because even in the midst of your search of sanctuary, you saw sheep without a shepherd, and your compassion created a sanctuary for others, you were the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and all who touched it were healed. You were the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and all who touched it were healed, saying I didn't know people cared that much about me, and all who touched it were healed repeating over and over, tell the church on Sunday thank you so much for all the calls and prayers, and all who touched it were healed two mothers noting the efforts and the effect of their daughters determination on backroads, and all who touched it were healed that instead of feeling like a solo pastor in a time of emergency truly I had parters in ministry and one standing beside me to face the blaze and all who touched it were healed and will continue to be, because you are the fringe of Jesus’ cloak, a sanctuary in the storm. 

Thank you, and thank God for you, First Presbyterian Church. and when this is all over come away to a deserted place and rest awhile. Amen. 

August 9, 2015 Mark 6:1-13

The Lord called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, 

and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 

The Lord ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; 

no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 

but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 

The Lord said to them, 

“Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 

If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, 

as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 

So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 

They cast out many demons, 

and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. 

***

I think Jesus was a backpacker. I think Jesus was a backpacker because he knew the weight of stuff, as well as people’s capacity to give. This weekend was the All Church Backpacking Trip which began with about ten of us and dwindled down to five by 6am the morning of. We met at 6am, and surveyed each other’s packs, Jay picking up mine and Luke’s and nodding as we were attempting to carry day packs for one overnight. Sabine, often in the backcountry for work, looking the most official, her gear up to date and well packed, yet throwing things back in the car that were duplicates of others. Eth had a solid older pack, her gear sat well on its classic frame. Rocky, a friend of Eth’s only going to Twin Lakes had water and salt for the goats. We prayed, and loaded up, Bob McKim and Jay Carr driving the harried dirt road to Marble Creek Pass. Bob offered if anyone got blisters he could pick them up at Cracker Creek. Doubting the need but noting the offer and the ever present possibility of emergency I thanked him.  We started off, a giddy group, but soon learned our most covetous item: bandaids, moleskin, blister covers and athletic tape. We all had brought enough for ourselves, one tunic worth of bandaids, but in this foreign landscape, side-hilling along the Elk-horn Crest Trail our feet mashed awkwardly in our boots causing odd blisters on the side of our feet. At each water break, Eth would add bandaids, and being the hardest hit of us all, we each offered the best we had, “I got these in Portugal, they stayed on for a week,” I said. Sabine listed her expert first aid list, Luke as well, and Rocky too. Soon Rocky left for Twin and the rest of us continued on. 

We talked a lot about our packs. The extraneous things, mine with an exorbitant amount of beef jerky, Luke with the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Sabine with a camp stove. Our money belts, and tunics, our bread and bags. We talked about our tents, Luke with a hammock, Sabine a real one, me sharing Eth’s string and plastic tarp triangle tent. We began talking about the places which were becoming sore, Sabine the backs of her calves, my shoulders with a backpack better suited for school, Sabine making Luke and I stop to add blister covers, Eth continually adding. They are things you talk about when you have miles to go before you sleep. Yes, we noticed the trees and the view, calling hello the Kauths and the Defrees and noting the dredge and the Strawberry Mountains beyond. We befriended a mamma goat, a yearling and a baby who I wanted to hug. Yet, there is a way that in the humbleness of hiking, you realize your humanness, your fragility, and so you speak of the things which somehow make us greater, Portuguese blister covers, water filters, sunscreen, snacks and if they could save us. Yet, when they run out, we preserver and come together, me handing over my water to Luke who was out, he hiking farther without it and smarter the next day, me saving my last beef jerky for lunch, and remembering how good carrots do taste especially when they are the last thing in your pack and getting light headed at the end, and stopping and making myself eat one more. There can be a shame in that weakness, in asking for what you need. That you weren’t prepared well enough. That somehow you couldn't hack it. I wonder if Jesus made them take nothing, so they would have to be resilient, and have to ask, and have to notice the beauty around them, and the kindness of others, rather than the weight of their packs and their own ingenuity. 

Instead, Sabine and Luke counted illy marked mile posts and watched time, and Sabine’s step tracker, and by mile about ten the things we carried had become a burden on our backs, and moreover our feet, and Eth was really hurting though not saying much, and in the miles left to go we stepped more intentionally then in the beginning, I didn't need to check out the phone call to God as it was about 30 yards off the trail which was about 30 yards I wanted to conserve. After 14 miles, when we reached what we thought would be Summit Lakes where we were to hike to camp and there was merely a pile of rocks with a post and no sign. Luke ran down a bit and I pulled out phone which noted a few lakes that way, but did not get close enough to detail the trail, and it didn't help that I had brought the wrong map, Elkhorn and Eagle Cap mixed up in my head. Coming back Luke tried to call his dad with the little service my phone had, but the voice didn't go through, so Luke texted Rick who responded in what seemed shorthand hieroglyphics to anyone but the Rembolds, First right turn before Cracker Creek. We found the lake, but I watched Eth stop and rest her feet along the way, in much pain and all of us on arrival moved like elderly, slowly, aching, intensional. The sound of taking off our packs with ughs. I ate the last of my melted cheese and apple and jerky of course. Then I crawled in my sleeping bag about 7:30 and was ecstatic it was the most comfortable thing I could imagine. It might as well have been a feather bed. What would it have been like to be welcomed into a home and have meal? Luke shared his decadence and read allowed the first chapter of Jonathan Livingston seagull and I was out before it ended. I heard them say the things that parents say, wanting to stop sooner, when the kid asleep and I opened one eye but I barely remember what happened next. 

In the morning, Sabine mentioned Eth’s feet, watching her take off bandaids the night before was painful and knowing each step would equally likely be. I mentioned Bob’s offer, to Eth, somehow she hadn't heard, and her face lit up. I imagine it was like being welcomed in someone’s home for the disciples. This unexpected grace, and it was. I hurried up the hill, turning on my phone and then heard the text sound, even more cryptic then before. It was Rick letting Luke know something about baseball which Luke thought he understood until hours later he said, “I think my dad was actually saying he watched the game and…” I knew Dr. Bob didn't text, so I texted Rick to ask Bob if we could take him up on his offer. By the time I gotten up the hill to where there might be more service, all was set. Bob would come get Eth at noon, and let Jay know as well. Perhaps the Dodsons could then come get us. Also, Rocky, Eth’s friend, had her friend Terri Text me, to check about about Eth, she too was offering to come get her without even knowing the increased need. I arrived to the top of the hill smiling. This was welcome Jesus wanted for his disciples, the welcome that need drives out in us, need for ourselves and need for others. It made sense that Luke and Sabine and I humbled undid our packs, we could have hiked on, wanting to say we carried all that we had from beginning to end, but the only thing we would have been carrying was our pride. Knowing Bob was coming allowed us to leave our sleeping bags and yesterdays clothes wrapped up in them, sleeping pads, and for Eth Jonathan Livingston Seagull. She offered us water and food, but we wanted to make sure she had enough and some shade, and we were comforted with Bob coming to get her.  From there we pressed on our packs light and an unexpected gift. We only had the tunic on our backs and our bags of water, first aid and snacks. 

There were other needs, I hate edges with drop offs, and becoming scared I realized Luke was taking a lot. It was like tennis lessons where I serve a lot better if I am not paying attention to what I am doing. He and Sabine got me around sheer mountain sides I might have crawled. They did with talking and singing, and I was thankful. Luke used the remainder of Sabine’s athletic tape, saying, “I owe you one,” she countering, “I need to refill my first aid kit anyway.” It wasn't about paying back it was about sharing. It was about welcome. It was why I think Jesus was a backpacker but without a pack. What he carried was the knowledge of the kindness of strangers, coupled with human need. 

Jay kindly picked us up, clearly worried about Eth, and my self admonishing, “Jesus sent them out two-by-two,” and you didn't say with her Katy, growing louder in my head” against the voice of reason that everything was going to work out fine. We tried to balance Eth’s being a trooper and tough without causing Jay alarm. It didn't work. He knows his wife, she is very tough. After Jay left, Luke asked, should we be worried. I counted, if I got a text from Rocky, who contacted Bob, that he was grabbing a four-wheeler, and that was at 11 and he was still at his house, and it took a couple hours, and then back. I said we should be worried in about an hour.

When Eth called, sounding chipper after I got home, I was unbelievably relieved. I texted Luke and called Sabine to let them know. Sabine also expressed something I had almost forgotten. “Thank you for the company she said, “It meant I got to do it.” you too Sabine. It was like that, I remember telling Luke, I had to hike the Elkhart Crest Trail while he was here otherwise I wouldn’t get to. “There are a lot of people who would take you,” he said pausing, “but I guess they mostly are middle aged men and that would not be quite appropriate. “Yeah, we should make it a church thing.” and so we did. As people signed up, they often were ones whose partner couldn't go, or didn't have someone to go with, myself included. It was an amazing welcome from the beginning to the end, from everyone, from drivers to hikers, we were sent out, none of us able to to is alone, but every one of us, connected, needs met, and welcomed. I think this was Jesus’ intent.

August 2, 2015 Mark 8:37-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” 

And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” 

He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” 

Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” 

And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, 

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

***

One of my favorite moments in all of literature is when Huck Finn gets to witness his own funeral. The idea and scene fascinate me because Huck gets to secretly witness the answer to the question of, "Who do people say that I am?” The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn ends with the community, thinking he and Tom Sawyer have died, and everyone is gathered in the church. Mark Twain describes, 

“The clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, and winning ways of the poor boys, (though in their life the community) had as persistently seen only faults and flaws. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred the boys had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide.”

At this point in the boys church service Huck and Tom come down from the balcony and open up the sanctuary doors, coming forward like ghosts. The book ends with this balance, that the boys are not merely seen as rascals, as the community has treated them, somewhat deservedly, but they also have some redeeming characteristics. I remember similarly, watching the news about a president after his death and asking my father, an American History professor, if the glowing commentary was accurate. “People are much more generous immediately after death,” he explained. It was nice to hear, considering the bashing politicians undergo throughout their life, that at least in death, for a moment things even out. Yet, part of me wished society was more evenhanded about who we say that someone is. 

Jesus, in his time, was getting some of this same kind of bashing from those within the religious institution who feared his power and his following. Like pundent’s of political parties, Jesus could neither do no right, nor any wrong depending on whom was relaying the story. And like many at the end of life, Jesus, was thinking about his own legacy and wanted a more even handed assessment. So he asks his friends, the disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And the, disciples answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” The outside world thought Jesus was someone with profound things to say, someone whose life pointed God. And though any one of us might be happy and complemented by this comparison, I think Jesus was looking for more. Jesus believed himself to be God. Jesus needed the people to see him as such, not just like any other prophet. I think Jesus was hoping his closest friends saw this difference. So he asked the disciples if there was difference between who the outside world saw him as, and who those closest to him know him to be. "But who do you say that I am?” he asks the disciples, and Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah,” which meant the anointed one, the Christ, the one who will bring great change to the world. Peter saw Jesus  not simply as a person or prophet who lived but that Jesus was God living among the people. I think Peter’s answer was for what Jesus was hoping. It let Jesus know that his ministry was on track. That even if the disciples would not completely understand his death they would understand enough of his life to know that God was with them in the flesh. As if in silent confirmation of Peter’s statement, Jesus, “sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.”

I feel Jesus’ curiosity of wanting to know how you are seen. I am someone who loves to be teased because I feel, “To be teased is to be known.” Its to have a friendship deep enough that teasing wont test it, to have confidence strong enough to balance a joke with a compliment, but mostly, I love being teased, because I get a glimpse both of myself, and of how I am seen. I get to know how I compare to others, to see how I function in the outside world. Liz Romtvedt is one of my favorite teasers. Liz has an amazing gift of accessing and naming the world around her, and as friend she is able to name my quirks and failings with a humor that is disarming, charming and accurately challenging. Likewise, she can deliver a compliment. In both ways I see in myself as I hadn’t before. One of my favorite moments was riding up the ski hill at Anthony Lakes and Liz was tightening her daughter, Magnolia’s, helmet. I knew myself well enough to know that my fine motor skills were not going to be able to tighten my helmet with gloves on, nor was my coordination such that I could take off my gloves without them falling below on the face of the hill, which was too advanced for me to ski and retrieve them. Picturing all this, I asked, “Can I call you Momma Liz, and can you tighten my helmet?” And without missing a beat, and simultaneously leaning over to help, she said, “Only if I can call you Daisy,” a name close enough to ditzy, and sounding a little Southern, that it was an instant fit for what she also calls, “my hidden disabilities.” Its been a great alter ego on whom I can blame the clumsy things I do, but it also has helped me to see how quickly I give up rather than attempt to learn to tighten my helmet with gloves, or keep them from falling, or ski the face of the hill. There was another time, I felt I had been needy, and begrudged myself for not offering enough in return, and Liz told me that what I gave was a contagious, joie de vie (joy of life). That I helped others see and experience the wonder of the world and life around them. This compliment was what I needed to hear, and it has both bolstered me many times since, but also been a measure of if I am using my gifts or am I bogged down in other things. Everyone needs a friend like this. Even Jesus needs friends like this, and we as a church need friends like this. We need people that despite our failings, see who God created us to be.

Some of you have heard both complement and critique from those who know our church. We are known in the community as a place that welcomes youth. We are a church with young people, with kids enough for a children's sermon, with youth enough for youth group, with young families, and with Vacation Bible School. Youth are valued in this church and it shows. The congregation continues to struggle through hymns that the young people love, though you may not know that tune and the words are unfamiliar, and the rhythm jumpier then you might perhaps like. No matter the fundraiser, nor the mission trip, when the youth ask for funds to serve you give your least coin and when they report back to the congregation you fill the pews. 

We are a church are also open, in ways the outside world can deem progressive and sometimes out there. You don't just read the Bible merely literally, parts of it you do, other parts you see as metaphor, other parts you read historically, still others you think about culturally. You are church that has no one way to read the Bible, no one way to experience God. Your church you can have a dialogue about the different views of same-sex marriage. You are a church where  forest service workers sit next to ranchers and farmers and all value that each one of you is seeking best for the land and it's creatures. 

We are known in the community for being leaders and for being servants. Luke has joked that we are the Presbyterian powerhouse, multiple principles and vice principals outstanding teachers and youth who lead their schools, student body president and heads of their classes. You look at boards in the community and there we are, you look at heaps of pancakes at the Lions Club breakfast at minors Jubilee and there we are stirring up batter or just shoveling stacks on plates. We are known as a church that feeds people. Our backpack program which sends food home with kids on weekends and our open door program which feeds them on school days, have yearly been written up in the newspaper with big photographs of work we  this congregation should be proud of doing. The food bank quietly gives families each month food that has been packed by our youth, the Conklin's, the Moons, all led by Gary Ball. Who do people say that we are,  we are open, we embrace youth and children, we are leaders. We serve the community and feed people. 

But there are ways in which we also come across perhaps not as we wish. Statistically, nationally, Presbyterians are the most well educated and the wealthiest denomination. This town knows about our endowment, this town knows about Roger's fellowship hall. And while, Mildred Rogers and other’s gifts of enormity are something for which to be greatly thankful, I wonder what it would be like to be known in the community for our stewardship? What would it be like if we spent as much time celebrating the increase of last year's offerings, as we do focused on the decrease in last month's portfolio? Are we a historically wealthy church as people say we are, or do we want to be generous givers? I wonder if the resource of our fellowship hall could be similar a resource for the community. We already share this resource in some ways, be it funeral receptions the deacons host, the community orchestra and choir practices, taking off the pounds and Al-Anon meetings, but there have been times we have been worried that AA will spill too much coffee on the carpet. Yet they have taught us something about tithing without ever being asked to give, they often give exorbitantly of their resources, and share their verbal gratitude, which is nothing compared to the ministry they do for those who find a welcome place in their fellowship. How does our building become not one of grandeur and affluence but one which is seen as our stewardship is continued? How do our resources become more than ours how do we become a resource? How does that openness we have become prophetic rather than merely progressive? 

There are also characteristics of who we are as a church that I don’t believe the community knows. Do they know we are a family? Together we raise the children of the church, and each other as children of God and help one another grow. Rick Rembold and Jim Kauth noted Evan’s propensity toward building things, and his strong work ethic, and taught him about tithe and talent together painting the side the church. Likewise, Bob McKim found out I didn’t know how to drive stick shift and wanted to learn. I felt like his daughter as he took me out in the Rohner’s cattle field on Kyra’s first car, and explained the system of gears and motors. I felt a child’s pride those times I shifted and Bob said, “perfect!” Likewise this church is a family in the way we love one another despite our differences and failings. The learning curve for a first call pastor is steep and in my first six months we had the epic universal church debate about the American Flag in the sanctuary, and not only am I still your pastor, but we laugh about it now, a good tease. We know one anther, our friendship is deep enough not only for compliments but also for critique, and there is always space for laughter. I have watched you likewise learn one another’s quirks and seek to support each other’s strengths. You know Yvonne’s quiet thoughtfulness would be great at writing cards and she is now a deacon, and Karen Kolb Schoenigh experience in churches and at work means she’ll  be great leading our mission programs and is. We are a family. We know this so deeply and have experienced it’s welcome, but how do we share that? 

How do those looking in, from this park, from these homes, from these businesses name us as God’s family, serving the community with openness, and generosity? We have to be that in the world. The community has to be our close friends or disciples, we have to welcome them in, and moreover we have to go out and serve, we have to see this town as family, we have to get to the point we can tease this town, that our standing with one another is that strong, that forgiving, that close as friends knowing. We don’t want a funeral with only niceties, we want to be who we are called to be, and for that identity to be known. We want to be God in the community. Amen.