Monday, June 24, 2013

Someone Stop the Voices in My Head and Give Me a Little Peace!

It wasn't until I sat with some friends to look at the passage, that I realized how sad one part of it really is. The healing of the Gerasene demoniac (Luke 8.26-39 and parallels) has always been one of my very favorite stories. 

Placed in its context, you have Jesus - just before our text (see Luke 8.22-25) - intentionally crossing over the lake from Jewish territory into Gentile territory...the gospel text actually says that he crosses over to the "country of the Gerasenes, which is OPPOSITE Galilee" (8:26)...To be sure, this is more than a geographical notation (I love this Jesus, constantly and intentionally crossing boundaries and reaching out to all of the "others."). And of course, there is a storm on the lake while they are crossing it - which has to be more than only a meteorological notation, because storms always arise when we try to cross over to those who seem opposite from us (NB that Jesus calms the storm - so that the crossing can continue). So...I am loving the set up for this story. Someone from a region opposite of Jesus' is healed of a disease that rendered him an outsider among outsiders. He is restored to his "right mind" and told to return home and declare there how much God has done for him. I love it! I love preaching those sermons about staying where you are and living your faith. So, I love this story. 

Anyhow, I was sitting with my pastor friends - certain that I was going to preach my "get-over-yourself-and-talk-about-God-and-what-God-has-done-in-your-life" sermon, when someone said, "What do you do with the answer the guy gives to Jesus' question (see verse 30), 'What is your name?'?" She said, "I mean...it's kind of sad." I'm sorry to admit that because I was so certain that I knew the story so well, I had never really thought all that much about that before. But, the more I read and studied, the more I realized that she was/is right. It is sad. His answer to Jesus' question, as you already know is "Legion" or "mob." 

One scholar says (Culpepper, Luke, New Interpreter's Bible), "With such a response, the man  had acknowledged that he no longer had any individual identity. He had lost his name. He had lost his individuality. All that was left was a boiling struggle of conflicting forces."  My friend Brian says that there are a lot of voices roaming around in one's life - either from within or without. I agree. There are a lot of voices that either play in our heads, or with which we are bombarded, which try to define us in a way that can cause our unique individuality to get lost. Things that make us lose our name. Whether it is the advertising that tells us that the way we are is not good enough, that we are lacking in some fundamental way, that unless we have this or that thing,we are not acceptable; or whether it is our work (from which we derive our identity. There is very real evidence of this right now, when so many have lost their jobs and no longer know who they are.); or whether it is our successes or failures or loves or losses or diagnoses, it is hard to remember who we are at our core. We, too, are "legion," possessed by many voices. And that is sad. 

But, what is interesting is that the very presence of Jesus threatens those possessing voices. The very presence of pure,unmitigated, unconditional, I-don't-care-what-your-job-is-or-what-kind-of-car-you-drive-or-the-mistakes-you've-made love drives them out. I mean that is radical! That kind of love can change the world. That kind of "I love you because of who you are in your created-ness" love, could save the world! We would no longer have to put other people down to feel better about ourselves. We would no longer have to resort to gossiping and bullying (adults are often the most guilty of this) to find our value - because we would know who we truly are and would derive our worth or our sense of identity from the fact that we are so extremely loved! I mean, this is crazy stuff!

But, truth be told, it is also scary stuff. If I stop being defined by what you tell me about myself, and instead, define myself by how much I am loved...Or, if I stop participating in the gossip sessions, because I realize that not only am I loved that extremely, but so is that person you insist on gossiping about, then I will most likely be seen as a threat to you. And you will ostracize me. When one person's central identity changes, the whole community feels it (I think that is why the rest of the people in the story are scared and want Jesus to leave - too much threat of change). 

I like to think there was a happy ending to this story, but we really don't know. To start being our most authentic self (to finally know the answer to "what is your name?"), when we have never really known our most authentic self can be hard...And happy is a lousy word anyhow, in my opinion. What we can be certain of, is that there was at least one person who left the encounter with a much profounder (is that a word?) sense of peace. 

And I, for one, could be really, really satisfied with a profound sense of peace.

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Monday, June 17, 2013

"Preacher! Is there any GOOD news from the Lord?!"

        Now...truth be told, I am often hesitant to just pick up my phone without knowing who is on the other end and, therefore, what "situation" to prepare myself for. I am a great fan of caller ID. And most of the volunteers who answer the phone at church, give me a "heads up" before they "send" someone to my phone extension. But this morning, the screen failed. Completely uncharacteristically, I actually picked up my phone "cold" and gave my best and most professional (and non-committal) "This is Pastor Sara" salutation to my unknown caller. The voice on the other end was IMMEDIATELY recognizable as it said VERY obnoxiously and with a VERY southern accent: "Is this the Episcopa Loci of St. Luke's Lutheran Church (Yeah, I don't know what episopa loci means, either...Something like the "local bishop." Really, I think it's just a fancy way to say "pastor.")?" It was my preaching professor from seminary (Rev. Dr. Tom Ridenhour)!
        I heard through the Facebook grapevine about 2 or 3 weeks ago that he and his wife had moved to Concord. Now, should anyone who ever studied with Dr. Ridenhour read this blog, they will know that it is both strangely flattering and horrifying that he would call just to say, "Hey, me and Ann are in the area. Let's eat lunch sometime!" I'm assuming that he means "let's eat lunch together, sometime"...but you never can be sure about him! That's the slightly flattering part (although I am under no illusion that I am the only one he called). The horrifying part is that he could just show up in the congregation anytime and without warning. 
        It's horrifying because he is so very passionate about the job of preaching, its importance and the potential impact that the preacher can have. And he makes no effort to disguise his passion. Seriously! On more than one occasion, I witnessed him stopping a student preacher right in the middle of their sermon (the only way to learn to preach is to practice preaching in front of one another...and (gulp) receive direct and immediate feedback. Students always give positive feedback to other students - because we all know that we'll be on the receiving end soon enough...So, Ridenhour would take it upon himself to give the critiques that we all knew needed to be given, but were too scared to give). Anyhow, on more than one occasion, I witnessed his climbing up on a chair in the back of the classroom, lifting the legs of his pants with one hand (the visual implication being "it's getting a little deep in here") while raising the other hand over his head in a "help me Jesus!" gesture and hollering out "Preacher! Is there any GOOD news from the Lord?!"
        And it wasn't just in the classroom...For years, I sat right in front of him during Thursday night worship services in the chapel (glutton for punishment??? I don't know why I did it). Which means for years, I heard him grunt and snort his way through sermons (most of which were given by visiting "dignitaries" of one sort or another and/or professors) that he thought were irrelevant and too wimpy. Sermons that were not daring. Sermons that sold the gospel short. He is the one who said, "If you're not preaching grace radically enough to offend someone, then you are selling Jesus short." (not that you set out to be offensive...but that grace, in and of itself, IS offensive...just too inclusive...too unmerited.). He is the one that insisted that it is not good news to tell people that they have to do this or that or the other in order to find favor with God. He is the one who insisted (very like St. Paul), that as soon as you say Jesus loves you "if..." you've ripped the good news of grace right away from people. He is the one who taught me to pay attention to order; i.e. good news is ALWAYS because/therefore, and NEVER if/then.
        He is also the man who said to me "You're going to be a damn good preacher someday Sara...if you can get out of your own way. It's not about you. You're just a mouthpiece...Granted a very unique mouthpiece whose job is to speak love and to challenge others to speak it, too. No matter what."
        He knows first-hand about that which he speaks: I wish I could remember the story in detail, but I can't. I remember hearing it - not from him - he would never tell it on himself. He was ordained in the 1960s. Early on in his ministry, the story goes, he was serving a congregation in either North or South Carolina that did not want to allow blacks to worship "intermingled" with white folk, especially when it came to being at the communion rail together. He is said to have said something like "If they (African Americans) go, I go." He stayed, and the African Americans also stayed, but about 1/3 of the congregation left. His proclamation of grace and inclusion and welcome was too big. It was offensive.
        I was ordained about 14 years ago. I'm just starting to get bold in my preaching. I am just now hearing Tom Ridenhour's counsel taking form in my own words. I'm just now starting to care more about following Jesus than about causing offense.
 
        Since I started with truth-telling, I'll end with it. I have to admit, that it was a good day to answer the phone. And I'd actually love for Ridenhour to show up at the congregation I serve...He'd love it. These are his kind of folk with his kind of passion and daring.
        And in the the name of truth-telling, while I am eager to see him, I am also a little anxious about it...He and his wife have moved into a CCRC (a Continuous Care Retirement Community...a phrase I now know because my parents and I have visited some recently). Last time I saw him (about 8 or 9 years ago), he was just starting to slow down. It's hard to get the picture of him jumping up on a desk chair out of my mind's eye (maybe he can still do it, I don't know). But mostly I'm eager...because I'm old enough and bold enough now to make him hear me (or at least, make him sit still while I talk!)...And I want to tell him - face to face - "thank you" for his fearlessness in proclamation and his challenge to be daring and his insistence that we preach with integrity and passion the good news of the Lord - that God's love is too big to be shut down by any offense people might take (All of which I might actually have the chance to do over lunch some day - assuming he means that we should each lunch together, that is.).

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Worry, Rain, and Wet Blankets

Last week, at dinner, our seven year-old son asked "Mom, are snails oviparous or viviparous?" I said, "Henry, are you making those words up?" He said, "No...Really, I'm not!" We quick grabbed the iPad and "googled" the words (after Henry told us how to spell them). Seven, and he's already way smarter than anyone else in our house...And ever since Lucy (8 y/o) discovered how to use a hot glue gun, nothing is safe from "crafting." Her creativity is a little intimidating. We worry about things like standardized testing with her - because she doesn't do anything in a standard way. We worry about social skills with Henry. We worry about how we use language around them, because we so much want to model good grammar and good content and thoughtfulness and kindness and respect and listening. We worry about preparing them for the "real" world and still grounding them in hope and joy and peace and laughter and fun. We worry about what to say about "mean" people without making them afraid. We worry about bullies and guns and violence. We worry about how to keep from punching those people who tells us that we need to "toughen them up!" We worry about whether or not we are worrying about the "important" things.
Also last week, I had the opportunity to spend a couple hours with a mother who just, days earlier, held her son in her arms while he died from a gun shot. A nightmare I have and worry about.
I also spent time with a woman who has pretty "aggressive" Parkinson's disease, and none of her family wants to do anything to help her out...And I worry about her.
I also spent time trying to learn more about what is going on in our state legislature and how our elected officials can claim to be standing up for the issues of their faith, while making the choices they are that affect the least, the lost, and the last. And I worried that I don't know enough about it, or do enough to change it, or model for my kids what it looks like to "strive for justice and peace in all the earth" (the most important baptismal promise my husband and I swore to do.). I worry about explaining hypocrisy to my kids.
I worry about the woman who came into my office so desperate for help and then took advantage of me (I don't worry about her taking advantage of me, but I worry about what in her life makes/made her do what she did...and how I can help her find the "image of God-ness" that is created into her)...Same worry I have about the person who threw a hunk of concrete through my car window Saturday night.
I worry that I am choosing to put my time and energy in the wrong place...that I am not doing nearly as good a job at balancing my family and my work, as I like to think.
I worry that I take my husband for granted.
I worry about how I am going to juggle getting my car fixed, making my family a priority, and meeting my obligations to work. I worry about how to satisfy everyone.
I worry that my head will explode!
And then, on Sunday night, after a too-long day and a too-long week, I find myself siting in the drizzling rain on a damp quilt, on the lawn of Symphony Park. Even though we had talked all week about doing it, even though he went and "claimed our spot" earlier in the afternoon, I tried hard to talk my husband out of doing this. In fact, on the way back into town from Hickory (I went there Sunday afternoon), we were talking on the phone and I said, "I just don't think it's a good idea tonight. I'm exhausted. I just don't want to do it. It's too wet. Mom and Dad just got here. They've been driving all day...They're just going to go to be polite. It doesn't even start until 8:00, the kids will be too tired. We can do it next week." I went on and on and on and on.
It was only because I was in a weakened state (thanks be to God) that I finally just gave up and said, "fine." And, at 7:30 Sunday evening I called my husband on the cell phone and said (incredibly caustically), "Okay, we've all piled into Mom and Dad's car...where are you?" I looked up and he was waving us down in the parking lot, standing in a parking place as close to the place he had prepared as possible. I was still scowling at him, insisting that we'd never be able to see anything because everybody still had their umbrellas up and that it was going to rain and I can't believe you didn't even BRING an umbrella and our quilt is wet. And I looked down and there was wine and cheese and salami and fruit and bread. And all of the umbrellas went down and the rain stopped and we sat on our quilt, prepared plates for my parents, then for the kids, then for ourselves, and the symphony started playing. And we all exhaled. And after a time, I looked back at my parents who were sitting on camp chairs just behind us, holding hands. It is one of the most familiar scenes to me. I caught dad's eye. He had tears in his eyes as he said, "You are doing good."

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Monday, June 3, 2013

Paul's Astonishment and Moths in the Kitchen

You know...the older I get, the more I like Paul. There was a time that I couldn't hear him very well, because of (what felt like) his constant slams on women (yeah...barely "constant," but to my ears it was.). Anyhoo (sic), thanks to the help of age and some study, I've come to understand that - given his setting - he was a wildly inclusive man (even of women!). So, I come to Paul today, or at least to this part of Paul's letter to the Galatians (Gal. 1:1-12...It may be worth having it in front of you to get the full impact...I even personally handed out bibles before the sermon yesterday...fairly bold, for me), envious that I can't get away with what he says (not because I am a woman...but because I am not as daring as him). 
He starts out in his normal lovely way: "Paul an apostle...To the churches in Galatia...Grace to you and peace..." (I steal my sermon opener from him..."Grace and peace to you..." but that's about as far as I go...because just when the Galatians are thinking: "How nice to get a letter from Pr. Paul"...all the sudden WHAMO!) "I am astonished!"
"I am astonished (I'm looking at verse 6) that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you  in the grace of Christ (he's talking about God/Holy Spirit, not himself) and are turning to a different gospel - not that there is another gospel." What he's saying is "I am astonished at how quickly you are selling out!" "I am astonished at how quickly you go from embracing the freedom Christ has given, to putting up barriers to the very freedom you claim to be celebrating!" "I am astonished!" I said that over and over during my sermon, yesterday. Then after worship a bunch of us stayed to "take on" the moth-infestation in the church kitchen. One man, named Mike, just kept opening cabinet doors and drawers and saying, "I am astonished!" It was really pretty funny, but I guess you had to be there.
Anyhoo (sic), here's the thing. For Paul's folks (and for us), the freedom of Christ meant that everyone was welcomed into the love of Jesus...EVERYONE...No conditions, except for the ones who put conditions on it...no exclusions except for those who exclude. Make sense?  So, when these other folks come along proclaiming a "different gospel" and say, "Well sure, the love of Jesus is for everyone, as long as they practice good covenant behavior (i.e. get circumcised)," that's a problem...An astonishing problem. BUT, before we write them off too quickly as hyper-legalists, we need to remember that circumcision is a covenant necessity mandated by none other than God. For example, in Gen. 17.14, we find God saying: "Any uncircumcised male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin shall be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant." Major identity issue for these people. But Paul is saying something radically different...He is saying because of Jesus, the ENTIRE world has been changed. Because of Jesus, all bets are off...ALL previous allegiances are null and void. Because of Jesus, there is NOTHING that can keep you out of covenant with God//apart from God's love. For us, this may not sound so crazy... But, as Wendy Farley says: "This would mean a sacrifice of the customs that had held the Jewish people together over many centuries...It would mean betraying their heritage." It would be like telling a Lutheran that sola scriptura is no longer relevant (which is a wonderful conversation to have...because what Luther intended as a more accessible means of encountering God, and a way that was available to even more folks b/c of the timely invention of the printing press...got turned into biblical literalism...something Luther did NOT intend). Or, even more threatening, it would be like telling folks that baptism is not necessary as a means of access to God's love in Jesus, or as a litmus test for someone's faithfulness. Farley goes on to say: "The deeper issue for contemporary Christians remains Paul's notion that faith relativizes even the most precious parts of a religion's authorities and practices...[He] (Paul) puts us in the terrible position of either being heretics to tradition...or being heretics to the gospel by clinging to religious norms [of exclusive behavior]."
The challenge for us is, I believe...or at least, the FIRST challenge for us is to name the things that we set up as "stumbling blocks" (what a good "Jesus phrase") to others' encountering and experience and living in the freedom of the Love which will go all the way to the cross rather than be limited. First, we have to be brave enough to name the stumbling blocks we set up...Then we can talk about getting rid of them. We will likely be astonished when we open our own metaphorical cabinet doors and drawers and see how infested our lives have become with the presence of love-limiting moths (as it were).

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