Enough

Although I'm not preaching this weekend, the Gospel story of the little boy offering up his five loaves and two fishes to feed the crowd of 5,000 has been very much on my mind lately. Let's take a moment to talk about that.

When I was a child at church camp, our pastor read this story and asked us, "What did this actually look like? Imagine this with me: did the bread and fish magically pop up out of nowhere? Where did it come from?" Then he admitted that he kept some of his favorite snack mix in his shirt pocket, where most folks wouldn't know that he had it, but it was something to tide him over if he ended up working late. He imagined that most folks in Jesus' day might not head out to the edge of town, a long walk, without also packing a little extra food along, "just in case." What if that miracle was sharing? Perhaps folks didn't want to admit they also had extra food along, since they were surrounded by a crowd that also might be hungry, and no one person could possibly have enough to go around. However, perhaps as they saw the example of this little boy, as that basket came around, perhaps many people there were inspired to share some of their extra food as well--and what little extra each person had, was really more than enough to meet the needs.

Do you ever look at the world, especially in these past few weeks, and feel overwhelmed at the needs? Topping the news has been the tens of thousands of children fleeing the violence and crushing poverty of Central America. Meanwhile, I've been learning so much about our local homeless and hungry population, and the numbers there are daunting as well: long waiting lists at each of our existing shelters, thirty families with children in just one of the elementary schools who are living in their cars, sixty or more people living under the bridge. Long lines at the food pantry, and too little food to go around.
It would be quite easy for us, either as individuals or as one congregation, to look at it all and say, "we just can't make a difference, we don't have enough in the face of all this need."

Yet I think it is so important to notice what Jesus *didn't* ask, either of the boy or of the disciples. Jesus did not ask anyone to bake all the bread and catch all the fish by themselves. Jesus did not ask anyone to go buy all of the food from the nearby village, which would have cost far too much and been too cumbersome to transport by any one person, or even all twelve disciples--who realized this as well. Jesus didn't even ask the little boy to give up all his meals forever, so that others may be fed. Instead, Jesus simply took that little bit of a snack, and blessed it. Even had there been nothing left over, the boy would have been slightly inconvenienced for a few hours at worst.

Instead of becoming overwhelmed by the sheer amount of need around us, let's just start by asking ourselves: what are our five loaves and two fish? What is something that may actually seem like a little something to us, that could be blessed by Jesus and become something so much more? What can we share in such a way that it does not diminish us, but instead inspires others around us to share as well? On our own, we can only do so much. But working together, each of us sharing our little somethings, and combining those gifts with the whole body of Christ, we may even find ourselves in the midst of miracles.

Peace,
Le Anne

Broken, Re-shapen: Counting the Cost

Jeremiah 18:1-11; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; Philemon 1-21; Luke 14:25-33

(Look these up at bible.oremus.org)

In the Scriptures today we have the prophet Jeremiah going down to the potter’s house to see how clay can be shaped into one thing, then broken down and re-shaped into another--a metaphor for our own lives; we have the Psalm which reminds us how God has knit us together in the womb and knows much more about ourselves than we ever will; we have the letter to Philemon in which Paul asks for the freedom of the slave Onesimus, in order to return to Paul as a servant of his own free will.  And then we have a Gospel which says we must hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and yes, even life itself, if we are to be Jesus’ disciples.

First of all, I would completely understand anybody who said they didn’t like these passages about Jeremiah and Jesus, or talk about them like everything that’s wrong in the Christian church as we know it.  Neither of these sound like the gentle, loving Jesus or God we might prefer.  So I think it’s worth addressing what these passages might really mean.

To Hate, Or Simply Dismiss?

Let’s start with the Gospel and especially at that word, “hate.”  The root word is probably better understood as to ‘disregard, or dismiss.’  That’s a little more comforting than ‘hate,’ but still, it doesn’t sound all that comforting.  It wasn’t comforting back in the day either, when family was absolutely central to one’s life and livelihood.  People didn’t just go gallivanting off for any reason besides to try to earn a living in times of crisis--certainly not to fulfill individual curiosity.  Even adult children were expected to stay home and work the family business.

What if a situation arose where you had to disregard your family’s wishes, though?  There might be times--what if everyone in your family was racist or homophobic, or what if everyone you knew supported a war that you did not, and you had to say, “I just don’t think that’s right?”  It takes a lot of guts to stand up to the people you love, and Jesus was asking that crowd, which probably included a lot of people from good Jewish families--to probably upset their families quite a bit.  If they did become disciples, their families probably wondered what they did wrong, how their loved one could betray them like this, embarrass them in front of everyone like this, they probably prayed for their mortal souls and hoped that someday they’d finally see the light.

Yes, Jesus had a reason for such hyperbole.  Jesus was not asking them to simply show up once a week for sixty minutes, sing three hymns and listen to a sermon.  Jesus was not even just asking them to help out at a food pantry now and then.  Jesus was asking them to turn their entire lives around, to break down the status quo and social custom, in order to practice barrier-breaking love.  Everybody they knew was probably going to hate them for this.  They might be disowned and lose everything they had.  And they might very well get themselves killed for doing so.  Perhaps the closest thing in recent history we have to compare to this is getting on the bus and heading south to de-segregate lunch counters in the Civil Rights era.

And as was wisely observed by our friend Aaron this week,* Jesus would likely not be welcome in most of our churches today.  He would look funny and possibly smell funny; he would have radical ideas that would disrupt the status quo; Jesus in fact has a history of being kicked out of congregations. He was a radical, counter-cultural prophet.  Discipleship had a high cost, Jesus didn’t want people entering into it lightly--and so you might say if you became a disciple, to turn against your loved ones, pick up your cross, and part with all your possessions, then you, my friend, were about to hit rock bottom.

Well, what would you be willing to give everything for?

When you join the military--that’s a situation where you really go all in: you have to decide that you are willing to part with your life or limbs or health.  Sure, there are folks who never see combat or come out just fine; many others are just not so lucky.  I do sympathize with all the young people who signed up prior to September 11th, 2001, and thought it was just a good way to pay for school.  Many have paid with their lives.

Some people do give everything to take a courageous, even if unpopular stand.

I’ll tell you the story of a man who gave pretty close to everything for what he believed, and many rejected him for it.  Recently, Veterans for Peace held their national gathering in Madison and my husband had a chance to meet S. Brian Willson.  Brian grew up by all accounts as a good son and good citizen who went to serve in the Viet Nam War; when he returned, he joined other veterans who went on to protest nuclear arms and all manner of warfare.  As a trained lawyer, he documented the consequences of U.S. foreign policy throughout Central America and other countries.  In 1987, while sitting on the railroad tracks to protest a Navy train carrying munitions, for which he fully expected to be arrested.  Instead, the train sped up and ran him over.  He lost his legs and a part of his brain.  An ambulance nearby even refused to help, because of the stand he had been taking. Later, he would learn that although he had never used violence against the government, the FBI had labeled him a "terrorist," and the train had been directed not to stop.  However, even after a lengthy recovery, Brian has never stopped protesting war.  Now, when he attends protests, even on prosthetic legs, he dances. You can learn more about the story here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Willson

Broken Down and Re-Shapen

Let’s go back to talking about Jeremiah for a moment:  the audience was the Israelites: God’s chosen people.  They believed that because they were God’s chosen people, they couldn’t possibly be wrong.  They’d gotten comfortable in ways of exploiting the vulnerable and currying favor with the powerful.     Systems and structures of unjust power were about to be broken down as a natural consequence of their corrupted ways. During the time of Jeremiah, the Israelites would go from complacent prosperity, to the fall of Jerusalem, to being captive to Babylon, to exile in Egypt.  However, like clay, they weren’t simply discarded; God was still with them, even in exile.

There are other ways of being broken down, and re-shapen.  Recently I had the opportunity to see a video, Loving Someone With an Addiction, which talked about the point at which families would realize that they weren’t helping matters by paying the legal bills, the bail, the rent, while their loved one kept spending all their own money on drugs, or kept getting into trouble.  At some point, they realized if their loved one was going to get better, they would have to let them face the natural consequences of their addiction, even though it hurt to see.  It wouldn’t be until they hit their own rock bottom, when the consequences became costly enough, that they might actually be able to be receptive to recovery.

From Useless to Useful

Let’s talk about another guy that was close to rock-bottom.  Back in the Greco-Roman world of Paul, anybody could get into debt or trouble, and be sold as a slave into someone’s household.  Onesimus was a runaway slave, and he was in big trouble; a wanted man.  His owner, Philemon, had the right to punish him severely, including killing the man.  Somehow, Onesimus runs into Paul, who is in prison, and when you were in prison like Paul, you needed helpers to get your messages back and forth, and even to bring you food and clothing and medicine.  And oddly enough, Paul knows Philemon--he’s one of the leaders in the church at Colossae, which “meets in his house.”  Paul didn’t just keep him.  Paul sent this man back to face the potential consequences, but also offered another, more constructive path forward. However, Paul asks that this “useless” person be returned to Paul, since he was indeed ‘useful’ in his employ.  it’s a play on words, as the very name Onesimus means, “useful.”  He becomes quite useful indeed, later on, as we believe he is one of the first bishops of the new Christian movement.  His life and his world of being a slave is broken down, and re-shaped into service for God.

Asking For the Terms of Peace

There’s one more thing I want to talk about, since it comes up in the Gospel text as well as in our current events, as we hear about rulers counting the cost of going to war, and I think it’s a very appropriate question to ask, whether we can truly afford a military solution in Syria.  The heads of churches in Syria and the Middle East, and the heads of churches in this country as well, ask us to pray for peace and to not support the use of such violent means as missile strikes, because they will simply lead to more killing.  I think we may also have to be prepared that if we bomb, others might bomb us back.  I think we have to be prepared that if we use a military solution, even if we say we’re just making a quick strike, that it will become another ten years or more before we’ve seen the end of things.  There are so many options on the spectrum between bombing and doing nothing, and somehow we always manage to overlook them all.  My entire life, we have been tangled up in Afghanistan and Iraq--going back to the 70s and 80s, and we might well be for the rest of my life--we sell weapons to one side and then the other, and we use them ourselves.  It’s brought nothing but grief to us and to them.  Granted, you don’t make a lot of money by not selling weapons to warring countries, or by using weapons ourselves, but the cost of war is so much higher than the price of a real peace, built on truth and reconciliation.

So yes.  As a nation, then or now; or as a people; or even as just our own selves, it is possible to hit rock bottom for any number of reasons.  Everything we thought we knew might come smashing down around us.  And yet, there is good news, even in these painful moments.  As long as we are living, we are never completely destroyed; we may just be knocked down into our bare substance.  No matter what we do or what happens to us, God has known us in our inmost being; God knows our substance; God will even be with us as we take courageous stands; as we struggle to find God’s path for us, to follow in the footsteps of Christ.  By God’s grace, we are being re-shapen into something new.

Thanks be to God!

*Several people have indeed noted this wisely, but most recently this was mentioned by Aaron Bates.  Thanks for the good point!

More on Philemon: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1767

More on Jeremiah: http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1767

Prayers This Week:

All who are struggling with serious or long-term illness in body, mind, or soul

All who wrestle with chemical dependency

For the people of Syria, that true peace may come through truly peaceful means; and that we be moved with compassion to feed, shelter, and welcome the many refugees

For the safety of all participants in our local area “Iron Man” competition this weekend

All who are wrestling with discord in their families and homes.

Mary, Martha, and Malala

Mary, Martha, and Malala

Luke 10:38-42

Usually when I read the Gospel story about Mary and Martha, I think about the ‘Mommy Wars,’ you know, stay at home mother vs. career woman, and the animosity between women in the two roles over the past several decades.  Or I think of slightly burnt-out volunteers in churches, wondering why nobody will help them.  Or I think about a devaluing of women’s work in general, perhaps even by Jesus, if you read the story that way.  After all, Jesus, supper isn’t going to fix itself.

Ah, but a series of events this past week changed how I see this scripture verse.

First, I happened upon an article talking about AIDS education in Africa.  The missionary health worker arranged a training and invited the community.  The chiefs and important men of the area sat on the benches to one side, in places in honor.  Most of the women opted to stay towards the back and chat during the presentation.  The missionary concluded that the women had not heard much of presentation and commented, “perhaps this is what Paul meant by saying women should be silent in churches.”  They needed to be able to hear the literally life-giving words being shared at the front of the room.  [I’ll link it here when I find the article again].

Well, perhaps.  I wasn’t in the room, so I don’t know how much the women heard.  Or maybe they’d heard it all before. Who knows.  But it reminded me of my time working throughout the Middle East and Central Asia, and particularly of public space and private space, and especially women’s space, and men’s space, and the roles and actions that each one plays.

Much like in Bible times, when guests come, a feast is prepared out of anything the family has on hand.  The table is set and the men of the family and the guests are seated.  Once the guests have had their fill, the women and children of the family are fed, always in a space separate from where the guests are.

My years of human rights work took me to many family homes in those regions, and after a while, I realized, we rarely saw the women of the family when we were visiting, especially if we brought male colleagues along with us.  The men of the family hosted us in the front room or parlor.  This was partly a protective measure, in cases where the guests were not well-known to the family.  There was also the practical measure that someone needed to get dinner on the table.  However, as a foreigner, even though I was a woman, I was granted space to be in the room, and at the table, and participate in the conversation.

At first, it was exciting to be at the table, because the conversations were always political and often radical--I always learned something I didn’t know before.  But after a while, I tired of the conversation and wondered what the other women were doing.

Eventually I’d excuse myself to go in the back with the women.  In doing so I learned how to cook some amazing food, and I made several friends.  I also got to see real life in so many homes, since the best was put into the room where guests would be received.  I also got to see women truly ‘at home,’ with their heads uncovered and their hair down, and able to relax in private family space.

In Bible times, most women didn’t get to go to school.  Granted, many families couldn’t afford to send any children to school; and many boys apprenticed with their fathers to learn the family trade.  Wealthy families may have privately instructed their daughters, but most education for girls was in-home domestic and religious education. Boys who went to yeshiva, or religious school, would have become literate in Biblical languages in order to read Torah, and would have been encouraged to debate religious ideas with the rabbis.  Girls would not have this opportunity.

Yet even today, in many places around the world, women face major obstacles in getting a complete education, especially outside the home. In places where families don’t have enough money to pay for the books, clothes, and supplies needed to send kids to school, the boys are usually sent and the girls kept at home.  Sometimes the obstacle is not just economic, but political: the recent story of Malala, the girl who was shot for being a vocal activist for girls’ education--who not only survived her injuries but also gave a speech at the UN for her 16th birthday, reminds us painfully of this today.  

Speaking of pain, let’s go back to Martha, in her kitchen, apparently fuming. It’s not that Martha’s wrong.  She may be bitter, but that’s understandable.  It’s that Martha is doing exactly what the world expects of her, which is good in its own right, but she’s also feeling left out, and perhaps nervous at what’s happening in the next room.

After all, Jesus breaks barriers by talking to Mary in the front room.  Mary breaks barriers by participating in the discussion. And Jesus gets that someone has to put dinner on the table, because elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus is out there washing his disciples’ feet and breaking bread and pouring cups and then even after the crucifixion and resurrection, he’s out on the beach grilling up fish for breakfast.  

I think, more often than not, Jesus got it, and still gets it.  Jesus gets that women and men need to have equal access to the table, to the conversation, and equal responsibility to the chores at hand.  

So let’s not pit one sister against the other.  I believe Jesus is saying both sisters have a place at the table.  Sure, we all have our responsibilities, but in our life of faith, we look for ways that all may share the responsibilities--men and women, young and old, everyone together--so that we all may not only have but enjoy a place at the table, together with the Teacher.

May it indeed be so.

++++

Two recent pop songs for Mary and Martha:

“What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJO3ROT-A4E

“She Will Be Loved” by Maroon5 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIjVuRTm-dc

(disclaimer--these are songs that come to mind and seem to resonate when studying passages for the week.  Not all parts of all songs fit; I try to preview and prevent explicit content, but there may be in the lyrics or videos content which may be either graphic or triggering for some viewers.  I’m always willing to discuss these further, either online, or in person at church).

Boston’s Sheep and Shepherds

Acts 9:36-43; Psalm 23; Revelation 7:9-17; John 22-30

I was really looking forward to preaching about nice, innocent, fuzzy sheep this week--sheep, who maybe aren’t the brightest animals, and maybe are kind of stinky, and shepherding is hard work--but, sheep never hurt anybody.  They just eat grass and follow shepherds.

Well, we’ll still talk about sheep, but I want to talk a little bit about the events of this past week as well. I found these Scripture passages took on a new meaning for me while I was watching the news about the Boston Marathon massacre.  Maybe if I recount them, you’ll see it with me:

An Unbearable Ordeal:

Like the passage in Revelation, that conversation between John and the elder in his dream, in the midst of this great multitude all gathered together from every nation, tribes and peoples and languages:  “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?”  “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”  We now know about people who have come through or are still coming through a great ordeal, and we have seen the pictures of their bloodied clothing--perhaps we saw more in these pictures than we’ve ever seen of the injured before in a catastrophe such as this.

Or even, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  As I was looking at the aerial photos and video of the scene, those tall buildings on either side, it struck me how much it looked like a valley of the shadow of death--how utterly inescapable it seemed.

The scene also reminded me of another valley of the shadow of death, that is, Jerusalem, in the time of Jesus, as the Gospel reading tells us about today.  It was the Festival of the Dedication--swarms of people were coming into the city, and there was a big security crackdown, the people in the crowd most certainly felt the police-state presence, and not in great ways.  And then there were the people questioning Jesus about his role in the midst of all of this:  Why keep us in suspense?  Tell us plainly--but they weren’t asking because they wanted to believe; they were baiting a trap.  And yet Jesus, who was in danger of being trapped by the powers that be, responds:  My sheep hear my voice, I know them and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.  No one will snatch them out of my hand.

We Can’t Live In A Bubble:

John Calvin [a founder of the Reformed tradition of Christianity] wrote of weeks that happened just like this, and about the paralysis of fear:  that really at any moment you and your family could be swept off by war or famine or weather or plagues; you could be riding your horse to market and a tree could fall on you; you could stay home, the one place where you think it’s safe in this dangerous world, and the house might burn down!  

In reality, there is no way to avoid absolutely every peril.

And just this week, we realize: you could take your family to a happy sports event and be wiped out by a bombing; you could be sitting in a nursing home and the fertilizer plant next door could wipe you out (Texas); you could stay home and be swept away in a flood (Wisconsin).  As much as I want to bubble-wrap the children when I hear the news these days--I also can’t succumb to the fear.  We must still live our lives, wisely, of course,  but living them nonetheless.

There are some other passages that really resonated with me as I studied the Scriptures this week--for example, that the people were being scattered like sheep, afraid--we saw some folks running still towards the finish because that’s what they were supposed to do, the singular goal they’d had for so many miles; others were searching desperately for their loved ones.  Others yet were injured and bewildered.  

And then, there was this passage, which gave me some comfort:  The one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.  They will hunger no more, and thirst no more.  The Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life....God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Did you see the helpers?

Fred Rogers, who is perhaps my favorite Presbyterian pastor, had a saying which is now repeated in ubiquitous facebook postings every time we have a tragedy like this....Look for the helpers, in every tragedy you will find people trying to help --and in Boston, they were there--including the first responders, those folks dressed in yellow, running to the place of death and destruction, removing the barrier fences, and providing aid; and directing others away from the danger.  Others were picking up injured people and running away from the danger.    Yet other folks were running to donate blood to those who would need it.  They were all...shepherding.  They were themselves, good shepherds.

In a time of spring, we find these events hard to fathom, and yet these verses bring us comfort.  For some, the green pastures and still waters are found in our heavenly home.  For others, they’re as immediate as outside our church windows [we have beautiful views of the fields around us in a semi-rural setting].  It’s a gift to us to have land around us where deer come to graze and ducks come to swim and owls live in the trees and sandhill cranes stop by every now and then.  It reminds us that there is more here, that our Heavenly Father has done much more, and much more good, than any evil we humans can cook up.  When humanity seems very inhumane, this little plot of land, I think, can help us remember who truly is in control.

And there is, throughout our world, a community of healers every time there is a tragedy--God calls us to respond in love and compassion--and not to be afraid; not to hide our families from a good world because of the evil that someone may perpetrate, but to prepare ourselves to respond in ways that show we know that what our God has done is greater than all of this.  No one can snatch that out of the Father’s hand.

We are not promised that there will be no evil or enemies; we are not promised that there will be no death.  We are not promised that there will be no ordeals.  However, we are promised this:  God will wipe every tear from our eyes; God has promised us eternal life; and God has also promised us here on this earth his holy presence, no matter what we may face.  Much more than we can see, goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our life, bringing healing, and allowing us to be a blessing to others.

There But For the Grace of God...

Isaiah 55:1-9; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Luke 13:1-9

This is an excellent resource on prayers celebrating the gifts of women in the church:  http://www.pcusa.org/media/uploads/pw/pdfs/2013_celebrate_the_gift.pdf

Today’s Scriptures offer some difficult stories, and show us that the questions people had for Jesus back in his time, are not so very different from the questions of faith which we hold deeply today.

Today we have stories of people suffering and being struck down, stories warning us to be mindful of our own morality, and how not to end up like those other folks.  And maybe these days, we might have a question in our minds of just how troubling these stories can be.

When Bad Things Happen To Good People*

In the Gospel story, people are asking Jesus the fundamental question, Why did these bad things happen to these people? After all, they suffered unspeakable acts when the local dictator killed people trying to practice their religion.  And we hear from the people an even deeper suspicion then than now that might those who suffered might have deserved it; morality, etc.  Yet Jesus reminds them that the people who suffered are no better or worse than anyone else.  Simply put, tragedy is not God’s punishment for sin.  That’s pretty radical talk, and often overlooked.  And Jesus goes on to say that trying to insulate ourselves from the bad which has happened to others, is more likely to lead us on our own short-sighted paths to destruction.

And in Paul we hear phrases that are so often misinterpreted by people trying to comfort others going through suffering.   But what does it really mean to be tested?  And that phrase that God never gives us more than we can handle--not actually what Paul says--says that everyone faces tests; rather; God gives a way out somehow, and that is what allows us to endure a situation, because there is some glimmer of hope.  And that way out may entail some extremely difficult choices.

It’s important to realize when reading this passage that Paul is trying to coerce the “know it alls” at Corinth, who think that they’re better than others and can get away with doing things that cause others to stumble, because they’re invincible.  Paul is warning them that they’re just as human and just as vulnerable as anyone else.  

When we see someone else who is suffering, we have this saying, “There but for the grace of God go I.”  It’s supposed to be a sympathetic phrase, that we could just as likely be the one suffering as the person we’re observing.  But it’s not really God’s grace that allowed us to live a more privileged or less harrowing life than someone else.  And it doesn’t mean that God didn’t extend grace to a person who is suffering.  Instead, I think the more appropriate questions are:  How much grace does God extend to us?  And, How much grace do we need to extend to each other?

Women, Self-Righteousness, and Grace

As you’ve already seen in the bulletin, this weekend of focus on the gifts of women in PCUSA, and it’s the ‘kickoff’ of sorts to our One Great Hour of Sharing.

And I’m wondering if you’ve heard the phrase, “hating on each other?”  It means to have a certain amount of self-righteousness about someone else, especially the kind that we get together in groups to express.  Well, I’m going to be honest with you, just as the Scripture stories all have people who are kind of doing this to others today, we’re pretty good at doing this as women.  If you want evidence of this today, you need look no further than the websites called “mommy blogs;” where you can hate on those who use disposable diapers, or daycare, or formula, or just parent their children somehow differently than you do.  A generation ago, before the Internet, the more familiar term was the “mommy wars”--with deeply drawn lines between women who stayed home to raise their children and those who worked outside the home.  It really is the same war, now just fought on different media.

However, as a world, we’re making a little more progress when it comes to ‘hating on,’ or blaming, women who experience domestic violence or sexual assault.  The rhetoric in this country is dying down about whether the woman in question did something to “deserve it,”  whether by wearing the wrong outfit or burning her partner’s supper--and more emphasis is being put on women’s rights not to be abused in the first place.  Yet, there is still work to be done in our society, and work to be done around the world on this very topic.  And we ourselves can probably be more helpful when talking about these things in other places by not saying it happens because the men in those countries are somehow morally or culturally inferior to the men in our own, as a result of their race or ethnicity or religion.  Perhaps when we say this, we do so in the vain hope that it will not happen to us.

And there are so many other circumstances in which women can find themselves, that we are more willing to judge or regard with disgust, rather than compassion--for example, teenage pregnancy, or prostitution.  We heap shame on women who do either of these things, while probably hoping that either situation doesn’t happen to anyone we know.  And yet, even in the Bible, God brings blessings through pregnant teens and prostitutes.  It’s not an easy life, to be sure, but we don’t need to make it harder.

Remember that phrase again, “God never gives you more than you can endure?”  Well, maybe God doesn’t, but others do?  What is harder to face, the suffering of our situation, or the stigma we receive from others?

And then, there’s the tension that exists closer to home, that might be in any of our homes, which is the tension between Mothers vs. Daughters; or especially mothers and daughters in law.  We consider ourselves lucky when a relationship is good; and almost inevitable when the relationship is not--perhaps because years of heartache are so deeply felt and remembered.  Whatever role we play, it’s easier to commiserate with our friends than to really work on the brokenness in the relationship itself.

[And let’s be honest, the world has changed and it exacerbates that tension: Everything that we thought we knew about raising children 20 or 40 years ago is considered wrong now:  should the baby always sleep on its back, or on its stomach?]

Of all the things I’ve described above, then and now, I think we do well to hear those words in Isaiah, when God says:  My thoughts are not your thoughts, and my ways are not your ways.  The heavens are higher than the earth--well, we all know that taking the high road, and truly doing so, is hard!

And yet, we too, whether we have faced misfortune, or are tempted to judge others who have, we might know deeply the words of the Psalmist, that God’s “Steadfast love is better than life; my soul clings to you, you have been my help.”

The Outreach Factor: God Abundantly Pardons

This will be even more important for us as we seek to grow.  As Isaiah says, People we wouldn’t even consider associating with might turn to us, and when we reach out as a church to our community, we might be surprised whom we find waiting for us, if we are really practicing God’s welcome!

Why waste our efforts on anything less than what God seeks from us?  Whether cliquishness or fashion or denigrating others?

After all, God abundantly pardons.  What if the housekeeping isn’t perfect?  God pardons.  Did you make a costly mistake at work?  Have a family fight?  Did you sleep in and miss church?  God abundantly pardons.  Forgot to exercise last year?  Your Doctor might not be so understanding, but God abundantly pardons.  The point is not to give up and stop caring as if nothing matters--but at least to reduce our anxiety about failure, so that we can begin to practice love.  Begin seeing world as God sees it --and not wandering around in self-righteousness, because that is a problem.  I think we all have to be reminded of this from time to time, because it’s so easy to do, to think we’re doing it all right, we’re going to church every week, we’re watching our mouths, we’re doing a little volunteer work here and there--but it’s too easy to judge others.  We get too fixated on what others doing wrong, probably missing something looming large in our own lives.  Paul says, “If you think you’re standing, watch out that you don’t fall.  Everyone faces the same kinds of tests in this life.”

Finally, let’s go back to that fig tree in the garden.  When we’re ready to cut others down, God pleads for another chance.  When we’re the ones who feel like we’re a waste of space, God may simply have put our feet in manure a while until we are ready to thrive again!

When we have been shown such abundant grace, why wouldn’t we want to respond in kind?  Why wouldn’t we want to bear good fruit?

Tragedy is not a punishment for sin.  In judging others, we risk destroying our own lives as well as others.  God has shown us the ways of love, through extending grace to us, that we might lend our own acts of healing to a hurting world.  Go and do likewise. Amen.

*There is an excellent book by this title, authored by Rabbi Harold Kushner.  I highly recommend it.

Children’s sermon:  Why do bad things happen?

Sometimes we do things that aren’t wise, and bad things happen. If we tease someone, they might cry.  If we don’t study, we might get a bad grade.   If we let our cat out, it might get lost.  Other times, we have accidents, where we didn’t do anything wrong, but something bad happens anyway.  In Biblical days, people thought that if something bad happened to you, you must have done something wrong to deserve it. This is done to scare other people into being good, but didn’t work very well, and people were afraid.   Jesus says that this is not true, and that we should not judge people by the bad things that have happened to them, because they could happen to anyone.  Rather, we should focus on God’s love for us, trust in God, and show God’s love to other people.

Prayers:

For those recovering from stroke

For those struggling with mental health

For those struggling with addictions

For all who face abuse in their homes and families

For all who face hunger

For all women who struggle to gain access to education, work, and safety in their daily lives around the world

For the Catholic church, as they seek a new leader, that they may discern with wisdom