God’s Word, God’s Wisdom

Posted by RevRusty on May 30, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Proverbs 8:1–4, 22–36
John 16:12–15

A lot of water had gone under the bridge between third grade, when I received my own bible from my home church, and my sophomore year in college, when I took a course on the bible. In college my life-style was vastly different from my childhood, (I was way-cool, believe me!) so that the bible I had, with my name inscribed on the cover, was like an object from another planet. And yet, I had made a decision to take a year-long survey course of the Old & New Testaments, much to my father’s dismay, and I needed a bible to read. There it was at home on the shelf, along with scratched up baseballs, cracked marbles and flaky snake skins. The professor teaching the course encouraged us to write in the margins and to underline key passages, and so that 3^rd grade bible became a very important source of learning and wisdom for me, and I studied with it for many years. It opened my eyes to the wealth of wisdom and tradition handed down through hundreds of generations: a window into the past and into the heart of God.

You may have a bible in your life or in your family that brought you insight or wisdom. Or you may not. Bibles too often end up on high, dusty shelves, ‘out of sight and out of mind.’ They have nice covers, but inside have tissue-paper thin pages, and are so very hard to read, that families often own them, but never, ever read them. The bible becomes not something to read, but a sacred object, a totem that is given magical powers. It is not a book as much as a symbol of the sacred, an idol to bow to, rather than a source of wisdom.

In the past generations, the Bible has lost much of its authority and mystique. With hundreds of years of research into its origins and history, we have learned that it was written over the course of thousands of years by hundreds of authors, in many differing circumstances and historic settings – from the tribes and city-states of the ancient Palestine, to the kingdoms of David and Solomon, to the slave quarters of Egypt or Babylon, to the struggling Jewish communities under Persian, Greek or Roman domination. The bible, we now see, was not handed down whole to Moses from a mountaintop, but was compiled, book by book, and edited over many centuries in multitudes of way. So it is a very human book, sixty-six books filled with frailties, conflicts, aspirations and insights. And for this reason, it has lost some of its luster, and can be seen as just another book – though ancient and revered. It is earthly, human and flawed.

What we don’t realize is that God always works through what is earthly, human, and flawed. God worked through Jacob, a schemer and trickster; God called Moses, a Hebrew misfit and murderer. God led the Israelite people from slavery into freedom through the desert, putting up with their complaining and straying. No sooner had God given the law to Moses, than the people were dancing around a golden idol. Jonah was called by God to preach to the Ninevites, but right away, he fled the other way, until God sent him back in the belly of a whale. Consider the people Jesus called into ministry: fishermen, tax collectors, carpenters. Look at the ways these disciples failed to understand his teachings and his ministry. Jesus taught about God’s Kingdom, using simple language about seeds, farmers, families and crops. God always works through what is immediate, earthly, straightforward and human.

That is what a sacrament is: God revealed through simple things. Jesus took bread, common bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to his disciples. Through that basic thing, God’s truth and light shone. Jesus took the cup, and in everyday wine, revealed his radiant spirit of self-giving love. When we bring a new Christian into the life of faith, we use water, just plain water, to show God’s absolute love and acceptance. We are used to having the sacred shine through what is plain and obvious.

This is also true of the Bible. The bible is human, flawed, particular, and gritty; but so is Jesus. Like bread, water or wine, it is common, simple. Yet, God came to us in a particular guy, at a particular period in history, to show us that God is with us – here, now, in this moment. God chooses to enter into our everyday lives, into the dirt and sorrow of our own history – to offer us hope and salvation. The bible is a common book, but through it shines the light of eternity and the glory of God.

It is the wisdom of God. It is a path for us to follow, a light the guides our way, a lamp that allows us to see through the gloom and shadow of this confusing world. It clarifies our values, refines our insight, and causes us to distill a kind of wisdom that unites us with the wise in all times and places. The bible is a kind of a mirror in which we see our own image – ‘in a glass darkly.’ In scripture we find sacred memory – generations of remembrance laid down so that we can find wisdom, insight and respect in our own age.

So, now I would like to invite you to share your own experience with the bible, or to show off a bible that has had great meaning to you. In this way we will share this sacrament of wisdom together. Amen.

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Breeze or Bones

Posted by RevRusty on May 23, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Ezekiel 37:1-14
Acts 2:1-21

As his daughter was packing up to go off to college, her father was helping her. As she was about to lift a sofa into the station-wagon, he challenged her to lift is herself, with ‘all her strength.’ She tried and tried but gave up. “I can’t do it,” she complained, looking dejected. “It’s just too heavy for me to handle.”

“Wait,” said her father. “You didn’t use all of your strength.”

“What do you mean? I tried really hard, and I know I can’t lift that thing.”

“But you didn’t use all of your strength, because you didn’t ask me to help you. I’m part of your family and so I’m part of your strength. So ask me.”

“OK, so I’m asking you. Will you help?”

“Of course I will!” he said cheerfully, and together they lifted the sofa easily into the car.

We are now a part of your strength. As confirmands you are choosing to become part of the family of God’s people, and so are being welcomed into the strength of the church. You are not alone, or forced to face the challenges of the world on your own. You are now equipped with the help of all of us here in this room, as well as about a billion other Christians spread around the globe.

And the strength that you are claiming is not just what you can see and touch; it is a spirit and a power that is more than any of us. This Sunday we celebrate Pentecost, when the Spirit of Christ swept into an upper room and inspired the disciples to go out and share the good news. The word ‘inspire’ means to ‘breathe into.’ So Jesus breathed his strength and power into the church. This Spirit is still alive and well in this church and thousands of others.

In the United Church of Christ we say that ‘God is still speaking.’ The Spirit of God is still active and alive and at work in the world, changing this world to reflect the harmony, grace, and peace that God intends for us.

Caitlin Meyer wrote in her Credo for this class that when her sister, Megan, was little she once asked her Mom, Tracy: “Is God made of breeze or bones?” Breeze or bones? Is God invisible, a spirit, an idea, a power or force in the universe? Is God a power that you can’t quite see, but that you can feel like a spring breeze? The word for “spirit” in Greek and Hebrew also means wind or breath.) So yes, you can say that God is breeze.

Or is God made of ‘bones’? Is God real, like us, able to walk and talk and live and die? Is God someone you can touch, eat breakfast with, argue with, and hang out with? Well, yes. God came to earth in the form of Jesus Christ. God was ‘incarnate’ meaning ‘made flesh.’ The wonder of Jesus’ birth is that God chose to become one with us, to journey with us in life, and to suffer with us on the cross, to take upon himself the agonies and joys of human life. So you can say yes, God is bones as well.

By becoming confirmed into the life of this church you are affirming both the breeze and the bones of our faith. You are saying yes to the breeze – the invisible parts of our faith – the spirit, mystery and beauty of God’s presence with us. You are affirming ways that God heals and guides us; ways that love empowers and ennobles us; and ways that our values influence how we live and mold this world. You are also saying yes to the bones of faith – the reality of friends and communities, church buildings and finances, committee meetings and cooking church suppers, hospital visits and coffee hour sign up sheets. The bones of faith are the ways we act out the vows taken here today in the real world – ways that we walk the talk.

I understand that all of this: confirmation, church, God-talk, spirit-talk may not make a lot of sense to you right now. Right now you are engaged in your studies about world civilizations and math and scientific discovery; and you are probably much more interested in what your friends have to say about Betty White on Saturday Night Live, than about the next church supper. This church may appear to you like an ancient, wheezing, clap-trap, defunct institution on the brink of the ash heap. I understand. I was your age once.

What you don’t see now is that later on down the road, you’ll find that a lot of the things you put faith in: a fascination with technology, the mystique of money, the radiance of fame and glamour, the intoxication of romance, will prove to disappoint. A lot of what the world has to offer loses its glitter after the first or second go around. Then the old institutions, like family and friends, like community groups, like church, will start to show their worth.

The prophet Ezekiel was in exile long ago in Babylon, after the people of Israel had been defeated in battle, the city of Jerusalem, along with the great Temple, burned to ash. He had a vision of seeing the desert valley filled with dry bones. And God asked him, “Can these bones live?” Can the bones of an old church like this have life? Can a church that’s been around since 1705 still hold our interest and inspire our faith and generate any excitement?

Well, Ezekiel saw God breathe the breeze of the spirit into those old, dry bones, and lo and behold, they stood up and walked again. Ezekiel saw the people of Israel return from exile to Jerusalem. Perhaps we will live to see churches like this one capture the imagination of young people again. I’m not going to hold my breath. But it will happen to you someday – maybe when you have your own kids, or after a painful time in your life when you need a friend, or when you feel empty and feel that life has lost its meaning and sparkle. Then a caring community of faith may look pretty good and you will feel the Spirit of God pulling you back into a life of faith.

In the meantime, enjoy the wonder of this world. We send you out with our blessing into a life filled with adventure and promise. And remember. We are part of your strength. We will be there for you if you ever need us. Call.

Amen.

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We’ll Give it a Shot

Posted by RevRusty on May 16, 2010

Youth Sunday

Ryan Wood

When I was younger, one of the other children I knew came up to me and said “will you be my friend?” I was a little befuddled at first, because I hadn’t the slightest clue what a friend was. Now, this was before all of the adults around me became stupid, and before I knew about Google, so I went and I asked my grandfather. “What’s a friend?” Not wanting to overcomplicate things with explanations involving sympathy, empathy, or any words involving more than 3 syllables, my grandfather gave a basic, albeit complete definition. He sat me on his lap and said: “A friend is someone who is there for you, no matter what.” I was a little confused at first, but I accepted this definition and tried to remember it every time someone asked to be my friend or talked about friendship.

This same definition of friendship is evident in the book of Acts, when Paul and Silas are sitting in jail. Regardless of what has happened, Paul and Silas are always there for each other, no matter what. While other things are important, Silas and Paul get the one “big thing” right. When everyone else has left them, and the crowd in the village starts attacking them, Paul and Silas are together in their time of need. This key idea of friendship is evident in many places in life, but sadly, it is not evident everywhere.

When I got older and began to understand more about friendship, I went back to my grandfather again and I had a slightly different question about friendship. One Sunday morning, I asked my grandfather “If being a friend is so easy, why are so many people alone?” In the book of John, God speaks of his desire that all of the lord’s children be friends and “love one another as I have loved you.” We can take this to mean that God wants us to be friends with each other, be together, and be there for each other, just as God is a friend to us and is there for us in our times of need. This was essentially the central question I asked my grandfather, albeit phrased a little more eloquently. I wondered why, since we all wanted to be loved and ought to “love thy neighbor,” why are so many people alone in the world? My grandfather, ever a man able to phrase an amazingly philosophical answer in the vocabulary of a 5 year old, replied: “Even though being a friend is easy, sometimes, people don’t want to try to be friendly. It’s kind of like going up to bat at baseball, and just standing there while the pitcher strikes you out. You can do it, but it’s no fun.”

The perils of people not making the effort to be a friend can unfortunately be seen in the many suicides each year of people who feel that they are utterly alone and friendless in the world. This is most evident at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, where suicides average about 1 every two weeks. This is the “suicide capital of the world,” and a group has been formed to deal with this epidemic of suicide there. As part of their work, they often look at the notes and life that the victims leave behind. One poignant note from a “native” jumper from the bay area read as thus:

“Today, I will walk to the golden gate bridge. If one person smiles at me, I will not jump”

The man must have walked past thousands and thousands of people on his walk to the bridge in the middle of a busy city at rush hour. People from all walks of life, poor, rich, liberal, conservative, Christians, Muslims, Atheists and Jews. However different they may seem, all of these people have one thing in common. All of them stood at the plate, and watched the pitcher strike them out. All of them were unwilling even to try to love the jumper as God had loved them. In the words of Jon Bon Jovi, none of them were willing to “give it a shot!”

Sometimes, just as my grandfather said, just a little push is enough to get people to be jovial and friendly. While sometimes, as in the case of the bridge jumper, it only takes a small effort that can occur without much thought; sometimes it takes a bit more thinking. Last year, one day at a youth group meeting, we had finished the discussion for the week and were playing a game in which we all tried to get Steve Matoccia to smile or laugh. Steve put on his best stone face, and was sitting and rocking in a folding chair. All of us, 10 in all, repeated the same phrase: “Steve, I love you, but I just can’t make you smile” We all followed this up with our own personal touch, something along the lines of “but I really love you!” and “Just smile so we can play another game!” We were all on the floor laughing from the various attempts, but Steve kept a stone face. We had all had our turn, and Reverend Adam was the last one to go. Adam just kept a straight face, and just simply walked up to Steve and said “Steve, I love you, but I just can’t make you smile” Steve, iron faced as ever, replied “You can’t” Adam, understanding the fundamental lesson my grandfather gave me, simply dropped to his knees, raised his hands and shouted “But you love me, dammit!” Stone faced Steve, who had kept a straight face throughout the whole time, fell out of his chair laughing onto the floor. Unlike the rest of us, who had only superficially tried, more for our own amusement and laughter, Adam wasn’t afraid to really “give it a shot.”

We see the same ideal of not being afraid to try time and time again in the friendship of Paul and Silas and their interactions with others again and again. When Paul and Silas are thrown in jail, they are cheerful, instead of moping, and the other prisoners are drawn to them and sing hymns with them. In effect, they actually make just a tiny effort to be friendly, by simply acting cheerfully instead of acting miserably, and the prisoners also make the effort to be friendly, joining in, instead of acting like the villagers and attacking them. These two small gestures by each of the parties, while not much individually, nevertheless add up to a friendship. The same willingness of Silas and Paul to “give it a shot” can be found in their actions with the jailer, a former enemy of theirs, to whom they offer their friendship, saying “do not harm yourself. We are all here” instead of turning their back on the jailer and running away after the earthquake, or simply letting the jailer kill himself, just like the bridge jumper. Their actions could have had severe repercussions, including them being jailed again, but they still try regardless of the potential consequences.

Even the friendship of Silas and Paul is testament to the necessity of making an effort, because, although we do not see in the bible the exact circumstances of the friendship, we do see that Paul actively reaches out to Silas, and invites him to preach with him after Paul and Barnabas part. Silas, for his part, recognizes that they can accomplish far more together than they can singly, and is a true and loyal friend to Paul throughout the journey, regardless of the circumstances or various trials and tribulations that they face. In essence, Paul and Silas are the perfect friends. They stay with each other even in the face of death and bodily harm, they extend gestures of friendship to all, regardless of past background, and just like my grandfather said, they’re simply “there for each other” when they need to be. To quote bon Jovi again: “They’ve got each other, and that’s what counts”

While Paul and Silas’s friendship is possibly one of the best friendships of all time, sometimes the best way to learn is by example, not simply out of a book. My grandfather perhaps understood this the best, and when I was a child, he always tried to augment the definitions and verbal lessons he gave me about friendship with simple teachings by example, even though he knew that I wouldn’t understand them then, and might not understand them for years later, and perhaps never. Whenever we had a chance to be together, he always tried to do things with me, going to the bagel shop, the playground, the park, out for a walk, and other, simple things, but powerful.

Perhaps my fondest memory of him was the time that we went to buy baseball cards together. It was a Sunday, and my parents and grandmother were doubtful that any stores would be open, but my grandfather just replied “Well, what do we have to lose by trying?”, and we looked all through the town and called every store to check if they were open. Unfortunately, this took so long that it was time for me to go home by the time we had found a store that was open. We were both upset that we wouldn’t be able to buy the cards together and madly open the pack to see if we got any good players, just as we did other things together. Right before I left, my grandfather simply called me in, sat me on his lap, and gave me five bucks, and simply said “Here’s so that you enjoy Port Washington a little bit better.” In essence, with that one action, he simply showed what being a true friend was, in that he pledged to be there for me regardless, even if our time together was drawing to a close.

Ironically, our time together was drawing to a close faster than either of us could have predicted. That was the last time I saw my grandfather. Three months later, he passed away, leaving me a bit confused and lost. Later, after I got through those days of loss, I simply looked back on the example that my grandfather set for me, and saw that he never was quite afraid to “Give it a shot” even when everyone else told him that he was just wasting his time by trying. If there’s one thing I know he taught me, it’s that sometimes, you can’t just watch the pitcher strike you out. You’ve got to get up there, as he said, and just swing.

In effect, in Christ, we are called to just try. Not to simply stand up and watch the umpire call us out, but to be like Paul and Silas, and to reach out to those around us, even if they are our enemies, and to try to befriend them and love them, just as God loves us. Sometimes, this comes naturally, but other times, it is difficult. Sometimes though, we must, in the words of John F. Kennedy, do things “not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” Silas and Paul were willing to do something not because it was easy, but precisely because it was hard, and simply because it was the right thing to do. Their effort ultimately saved the man’s life, and ended up leading to the salvation of his whole family. Sometimes, as in the case of the bridge jumper, only the slightest effort would have been enough, but yet people still do not make the effort to try. Sometimes, we simply have to pray and just “give it a shot” For this is truly what God wants us to simply not be afraid to “love one another as I have loved you” Amen.

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How Families Work

Posted by RevRusty on May 9, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Acts 16:9-15
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

How is a family like an egg? Hmmm. (It’s still the Easter season so I can talk about eggs, right?)

A family has healthy boundaries, like a shell, that prevent it from being invaded or taken over. It has an inside and an outside.
A family is fragile, and needs to be protected and cherished. Hard knocks can cause damage. If it breaks, it can hurt those inside.
A family is nutritious and life-giving. Family feeds us physically and emotionally.
A family has potential for growth and renewal. It is a place of development, a place in which new life can unfold and be nurtured in safety.

I just learned something about eggs I didn’t know before. A baby chick inside an egg uses up the nutrients and amniotic fluid, and this fluid is replaced by a toxic gas. Over time this gas builds up and eventually, if the chick doesn’t do anything, it will die. But each chick comes equipped with an ‘egg-tooth’ that is able to chip and cut through the shell so that it can break out into a new life. Pretty cool, huh?

Well you could say that families have something similar. If things don’t change, and if things are too stagnant and shut down in families, then growth does not occur. We need to change to survive, and so we come equipped with the flexibility and creativity to seek creative solutions to difficult issues and conflicts. Families shift emotionally to incorporate new realities.

You might even say that teenagers come with sharp emotional teeth that cut away at dependence on their parents in painful and obnoxious ways. Teens need independence and they achieve it by driving everyone around them insane by their sharp words. Teens they tend to crack lots and lots of eggs, for better or worse. It’s all part of God’s plan.

You could also say that churches are similar to families in this way. We need to change and to grow, and if we are too stuck and static, then toxic gases build up. We need to move in new directions to survive, and we need to welcome new people in order to grow. This is why hospitality and welcoming strangers is not only good to do, it is also healthy for us – to open us up and to help us to grow spiritually.

The truth is that churches are still like families in a variety of ways.

You can’t pick your family members – but you can pick your friends. In churches we don’t choose who walks through the door – but we believe in hospitality and so, like family, we learn to get along with those who are different than ourselves and we grow as a result.
In families, we stay with each other through thick and thin; even in sickness, poverty or grief. That’s true of church; we are willing to go into hospital rooms, funeral parlors, kitchens and basements for each other.
When you’re in a family and you show up at the door, they have to let you in. That’s pretty much true of church as well.
Families fight, but hopefully, they work it out and forgive each other. That’s true of church communities as well.
Families share with each other. Churches are supposed to.
Families stick up for each other. We’re supposed to do that for our church friends as well.

And the list goes on and on…

A book by Allison Pierson entitled I Don’t Know How She Does It (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002) tries to define how families work by describing the lists that parents draw up.

The list is long, and always growing. At the top, in capital letters, are two words: MUST REMEMBER. It’s a deluge of self-imposed demands: Write thank-you letters … Buy new ballet leotard for daughter Emily (blue, not pink) … Return call from sister … Ask cool friend what is gansta rap. No cool friends. Make cool friend …. Baby sitter Saturday/Wednesday, pay newspaper bill/read back issues of newspapers, call nanny temp agency … Trim son’s nails … Dentist appointment … Return Snow White video to library … Be nicer, more patient person with daughter, so she doesn’t grow up to be a needy psychopath.

This is just one of the “must remember” lists compiled by Kate Reddy, the working mother at the heart of the novel. Mothers around the world can certainly relate to her endless lists, compiled while walking through life in what she describes as a “lead suit of sleeplessness.” We can all be thankful for the many ways that time-and-sleep-starved parents everywhere keep numerous balls in the air while being pulled in a thousand different directions. “I have to try to remember,” Kate confesses. “Someone has to.” Her husband isn’t much help, because if she asks him to hold more than three things in his head at once, you can see smoke start to come out of his ears — the circuits all blow. Women are meant to be great at multitasking, says Kate. Most men are not.

When a friend named Jill dies of cancer, she leaves her husband a sheaf of paper containing 20 pages of close-typed script. It bears the title Your Family: How It Works! “Everything’s in there,” Jill’s husband says to Kate, shaking his head in wonder. “She even tells me where to find the crazy Christmas decorations. You’d be amazed how much there is to remember, Kate.” But she isn’t surprised at all. What mother would be?

In the church we have our own lists – lists of volunteers to help with events and projects, lists of worship participants, lists of e-mail messages and photos, lists of kids and teachers and curriculum and supplies, to do lists and plans for programs. The lists go on and on. And all of this is to create a sense of community, a sense of togetherness with each other and with God. Our church serves as a caring circle, a supportive community, a group of compassionate friends. We see this lived out day after day – with friends supporting the Schumachers, or visiting with someone who just lost a loved one, or giving someone a call who had a bad diagnosis. We strive – and sometimes succeed – to be a supportive and caring family of friends.

What makes families tick is often what makes churches work as well. So how do families work? They protect and support each other when danger looms. They share what they own and they share what they feel. They know when to laugh together and when to weep together. They huddle together when the roof caves in, and take turns when there’s only one bathroom. They respect and care for each other, so that each person grows to his or her full stature. You know – families, like eggs, stick together, even when scrambled.

We know how families are supposed to work, and we know how they don’t work. I remember my older brother coming home once, after visiting at a friend’s house and saying, “Why can’t our family be like my friend’s family? They really love each other. We just fight all the time.” Yes, we know what it is supposed to look like, and yet, too often we don’t live up to the ideal. That is true of church as much as families; we know how it is supposed to be. But you know, families are not just biological. In our age, when families get strung out all around the country and world, sometimes those we are closest to are not family but friends. My own family is stretched all around – in Seattle, in Texas, in California, in Pennsylvania, Washington DC and Connecticut. We like to think we are close, but when you don’t see someone for months and even years at a time, it is rough feeling as though you’re in one shell together. So sometimes church can feel more like family than family.

I think this is what the early church discovered 2,000 years ago. In our scripture this morning we hear of Lydia – first Christian Den Mother and mother of the early church. She opened her home and her heart to the community of faith, and made her home the home of the first church in Philippi. My guess is that she and her fellow church members discovered this amazing truth: strangers can become family. In a community of authentic caring, sharing, equality, faith, and dialogue; astounding things happen. Hearts open. Trust blossoms. Spirits unite. Differences are overcome. And real community forms.

In our reading this morning, Lydia showed enormous hospitality to Paul and Timothy and the early church, and opened her doors to a new kind of community. Along with Paul and Timothy, she created a group of faithful friends. The values of their community were very unlike the rest of society. Christian communities emphasized equality – an astounding equality in which social divisions were extinguished, in the words of Paul: “In Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male or female.” (Gal.) Roman society was extremely patriarchal, men were the heads of households and there was a strict strata of social classes, with a large slave population at the bottom. In Christian community hospitality was practiced with great devotion and strangers were welcomed with open arms. We hear in Hebrews: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:2) In Christian community, people of all backgrounds were treated with respect and compassion as if they were part of one’s own family. Christians shared their food and possessions with each other, like families, and cared for the sick and infirm. A new kind of society was being formed in those little house churches, like the one Lydia formed. And these faith communities were like families – made up of strangers who became united in Christ.

This still happens today. It happens right here in this church. It is a gift that is the best kept secret in the world. It is what God intends us to be.

I knew a woman years ago who reminds me of Lydia – the mother of the early church. Her name was Dot Yanick, and she helped a church I was serving in Fair Haven CT start a soup kitchen years ago. We began with almost no money, donations of food and bread from local venders, and a prayer. We opened the doors of the church one day a week and had a few stragglers come in, not sure what to expect. But Dot welcomed them with a great big smile and big servings of home cooked food. She laughed and joked with everybody, and the more people got to know her, the more they showed up.

After a while we opened two days a week, then three and stopped when we were going six days a week. She got dozens of volunteers to help out, not only from area churches, but also from the guests themselves– those who wanted to share their talents. One winter we opened our doors to those who were homeless and acted as an emergency shelter during the extreme cold, and Dot was there day after day, night after night. At the end of that ordeal her husband Stan had a heart attack and died suddenly. We all knew it was the stress of constant care and too many hours of work. The entire city turned out for his funeral. Dot grieved. But she was back the next week, serving meals and greeting each person who came in by name. She served as the head of the Fair Haven Soup Kitchen for over 15 years.

Yes, we know how families and churches are supposed to be. And we know they don’t always live up to the ideal. But we keep trying because it is a cold and meaningless world out there when we don’t have friends to invite us through the door. When we face the emptiness of highways and industry, the harshness of illness and the relentlessness of death, we need friendly faces and laughter and tears. The HUCC Finn Coffee House last night was a premier example of this. The caring I see every day in this church reminds me that church and family are not far apart. Let us celebrate this truth here today. Together we can make omelets. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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How Families Work

Posted by RevRusty on

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Acts 16:9-15
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

How is a family like an egg? Hmmm. (It’s still the Easter season so I can talk about eggs, right?)

A family has healthy boundaries, like a shell, that prevent it from being invaded or taken over. It has an inside and an outside.
A family is fragile, and needs to be protected and cherished. Hard knocks can cause damage. If it breaks, it can hurt those inside.
A family is nutritious and life-giving. Family feeds us physically and emotionally.
A family has potential for growth and renewal. It is a place of development, a place in which new life can unfold and be nurtured in safety.

The truth is that churches are still like families in a variety of ways.

You can’t pick your family members – but you can pick your friends. In churches we don’t choose who walks through the door – but we believe in hospitality and so, like family, we learn to get along with those who are different than ourselves and we grow as a result.
In families, we stay with each other through thick and thin; even in sickness, poverty or grief. That’s true of church; we are willing to go into hospital rooms, funeral parlors, kitchens and basements for each other.
When you’re in a family and you show up at the door, they have to let you in. That’s pretty much true of church as well.
Families fight, but hopefully, they work it out and forgive each other. That’s true of church communities as well.
Families share with each other. Churches are supposed to.
Families stick up for each other. We’re supposed to do that for our church friends as well.

And the list goes on and on…

A book by Allison Pierson entitled I Don’t Know How She Does It (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2002) tries to define how families work by describing the lists that parents draw up.

This still happens today. It happens right here in this church. It is a gift that is the best kept secret in the world. It is what God intends us to be.

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New Heaven/New Earth

Posted by Administrator on May 2, 2010

Russell Eidman-Hicks

Revelations 21:1-6
John 13:31-35

I’m in a feud with my neighbor. She believes that I am pumping water into her yard from my basement on purpose, flooding her yard and causing her well-groomed paradise to turn into a foul swamp. It’s been a wet spring, and the sump-pumps in my basement are going night and day, and yes, water is definitely flowing in her direction. But that’s not my doing. No. It’s something called gravity. It pulls water downhill, and her yard is sadly right lower than mine. I didn’t turn on a tap or pay to ship the water in from Saudi Arabia just to punish her. I’m not that sadistic, though it is tempting. The water system was put in place by the previous owners of my house dozens of years ago.

My neighbor has taken to carting wheelbarrows full of wood chips from another neighbor who runs a tree business and dumping these chips into the stream, with the hope, I guess, that the chips will soak up the water. Alas, no. All that is happening is that she is killing her grass and creating a dark lagoon of moldy, soggy, woodchips. Instead of a bright green oasis, she now has a gloomy bog. She is out working every day from early morning until the sun goes down. And every time she wheels that wheelbarrow past my house, it is as if she is accusing me, “How could you do this to me? It’s all your fault. You are the villain here.” Whenever I drive by she glares at me with undisguised malice. She wants me to feel guilty, but it is hard to apologize for the existence of gravity or the reality of water.

I was getting my mail last Tuesday and I saw her digging up wood chips and I said, “Hey, I know you’re having a hard time with your water problem. Let’s talk about it.” I wanted to explain to her that the town put in a pipe about ten years ago, when it was also a wet spring, and that this is a natural cycle, and it will clear up in a few months.

“Don’t talk to me about this. No, don’t talk to me!” she cried. And with that she took yet another load to her miserable lagoon.

Then yesterday, I was hauling brush to the street – and there she was, rolling her wheelbarrow. “It’s really not my water,” I said. “It is a stream; it happens every ten years or so. Water flows downhill.”

“You put in a pipe. How could you do this, you, a man of the cloth!”

“Even if I let it fill my basement, it would overflow in three days and keep running downhill.” Oh well, nothing worked. I’m not going to change her mind.

You see, my neighbor believes that the water in her yard is an evil plot, a plan that I put in place that is now causing her untold grief. I am doing this to hurt her. The truth is that there is no plan. I didn’t work this out. I am not out to get her. I like her, and would be happy to be a friendly, courteous neighbor. But now, I’m afraid she’s going to call a lawyer or worse.

Some people believe that when bad things happen, that it is because of a plan, something God did to get them, to punish or to teach them a lesson. When a loved one dies, when cancer is diagnosed, when a tree falls on a house, it is God’s plan. But God is not like a great puppeteer, pulling every string, causing all the events in this world – including streams of water to flow into my neighbor’s yard. I don’t believe it is God’s will for evil or terrible things to happen. Yes, God may be moving us in a direction, but it is far beyond our knowing, and to believe that everything that happens is connected to that plan creates a distorted and bizarre view of God. Is God really pulling the strings to cause a child to become infected, or a drunk driver to smash into a family on the highway? I don’t think so. And to make God responsible for 9/11 and Auschwitz and tsunamis and earthquakes makes God resemble the devil more than the divine.

Our local Asbury Park Press columnist and Baptist minister, Michael Riley wrote this in a series “Stupid Things Christians Say”: “Everything that happens is part of God’s plan.” To believe that means that a baby beaten to death by a meth-addicted father is furthering God’s agenda, that the Holocaust was right on schedule, that centuries of slavery were somehow necessary for the universe to have a very happy ending. That’s almost evil sort of nonsense. The truth is that once God created folks with free will, terrible things happen, and God has to tack, duck, and weave to get creation back on track.”

At the Creation, God created all things, called them “good” and then gave them away. God gave dominion of the creation over to humans, those created in God’s image. God created humanity with free will, for better or more often worse, meaning we can just go off and make a complete mess of things if we choose. And of course, we do. Just consider the thousands of barrels of goo from the collapsed oil-rig in the Gulf of Mexico, sloshing toward the coast of Louisiana. Here we are again, caught in the swamp of our own making.

Listen to quote from Time of a former Wall Street trader: “If running the economy off the cliff makes you money, you will do it, and you will do it every day of the week.” Hmmm. Not a lot of long-range planning going on here.

Our economy looks a lot more like a runaway train than an intricate clock. As much as we imagine our lives to be well ordered and under control, the truth is that terrible stuff happens and we don’t really have a clue what’s coming down the road. Look at how surprised so many people were three years ago when tremendous banks started to topple like fragile dominoes, taking down the world economy. We’d like to believe we live within well-conceived plans firmly established, but truthfully, it seems that they are being made up on the fly. Even our great guru of finance, Alan Greenspan, was caught looking like a deer in the headlights.

A central tenet of Judeo-Christian beliefs is that God created the universe for a purpose; therefore, history has meaning and purpose. Accordingly, history is not an endless cycle where events are destined to repeat themselves, but rather a path with a destination. As the Bible begins with creation in Genesis, so it ends with re-creation in Revelation. And we hear this morning what the goal and end of our faith is meant to be – a new Heaven and a New Earth:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

             “See, the home of God is among mortals.
             He will dwell with them as their God;
             they will be his peoples,
             and God himself will be with them;
4          he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
            Death will be no more;
            mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
            for the first things have passed away.”                   (Rev. 21:1-4)

So this is where we are headed, by the grace of God. A saying goes that Christians are pessimistic in the short run, but optimistic in the long run. Though things look pretty nasty right now with bombings in Iraq, and corruption in Afghanistan; and a volcano in Iceland spewing ash and grounding planes; disagreements in our country over immigration, health care, financial reform and more; in the long run, we’re moving toward salvation. God has a goal. In the long run, God is making it right, offering harmony, grace and peace.

We’d like to say simply that God controls everything and with faith we can look around, figure out the plan and just follow it. It’s more complicated than that. This world – like water – flows on its own course.

God’s plan is beyond our knowing and beyond the luck and circumstance of this life. Jesus himself said: “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (Mark 13:32) Only God has a clue. So, the next time you hear a preacher or psychic telling you the world is going to end in 2012 or next month, don’t believe it.

The illusion or seduction is that if we know the plan, then we will have control and be able to alter the future. It’s true that having a plan, direction and a goal allows us to move forward with greater clarity. But we can also get seduced into believing that we have total understanding and our hand on every lever. Too many preachers and psychics get paid big bucks for this illusion.

An interesting article last week in the NY Times was about the role that Powerpoint presentations play in the Pentagon and in warfare planning. The article begins: “Gen. Stanley McChrystal, the leader of American and Nato forces in Afghanistan, was shown a PowerPoint slide in Kabul last summer that was meant to portray the complexity of American military strategy, but looked more like a bowl of spaghetti. “When we understand that slide, we’ll have won the war,” General McChrystal dryly remarked, as the room erupted in laughter.” Another general, H. R. McMaster, who banned Powerpoint presentations when he led the successful effort to secure the northern Iraqi city of Tal Afar, likened PowerPoint to an internal threat. “It’s dangerous because it can create the illusion of understanding and the illusion of control. Some problems in the world are not bullet-izable.” Briefings with PowerPoint are known as “hypnotizing chickens.” We can end up like those chickens, believing we have the answers and understand the plan, when in reality it is far being our knowing.

But does this mean that we should give up all hope for a New Heaven and a New Earth – for a time when justice will be established on the earth and when sorrow and suffering will end? No. This is our hope as people of faith. Justice matters. Balance will be restored. The oppressed will be freed and all will live abundantly. “To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.” (Rev 21:6) This is our hope and our call – to move toward that vision of a New Jersalem.

So what do we do? We can’t blame it all on God. God gave us dominion and its up to us now. It is up to us to live up to our calling, to take our responsibility seriously, and to work with God to build the New Jerusalem, right here in Monmouth County.

We can ask, “Why doesn’t God do something? Why can’t God clean up this mess?” Well, God has done something. God came to us as Jesus Christ. If you notice, Jesus didn’t come and snap his fingers and make everything OK. He didn’t stop all disease and cure all deformities and clean up all the lepers and throw out the Romans and build a villa for each and every person. No. Jesus walked in our midst. Jesus ate with his friends. Jesus was betrayed and beaten up and strung up by mean, spiteful people. He looked down from the cross at these arrogant, selfish, petty, vulgar, hateful, blood-thirsty people, those who have dominion over themselves and the world, and said, “Forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.” This Jesus is with us always, in the presence of the Holy Spirit, walking beside us in the community of faith.

So God came and is with us know – still speaking – not to change it all in an instant, but to show us the way. God is with us – to suffer by our sides – to teach us, and model for us, what the Kingdom of God can look like – and to work alongside us to make it real. Jesus shows how to live God’s Way, where death is no more, where we don’t have to cause sorrow and tears, where justice and compassion can rule, where we can forgive each other start again. This is the New Earth modeled after the way of heaven. It is here in this church. It is recreated each time we share communion with each other. With God’s help this can be a reality in our neighborhoods and communities.

So, the next time I see my neighbor with her wheelbarrow, instead of glaring back at her and proving how right I am to her, I can simply smile. If she needs my help, I’ll give it. If she will allow me to work with her, I will. And in this small, very small way, I will work with Jesus to create the New Jerusalem, right in my own front yard. Amen.

God made a huge rainstorm to clear things up – and started fresh with Noah and his family, whom he thought might have some sense. God sent up a rainbow as a covenant sign swearing the God would not destroy the earth or its creatures again. But no, we went on to make a mess of things again.

Does God have a plan? Can we know it?

Jesus himself said that no one knows – not even the Son – only the Father.

Joke – talking frog “At this point in my life, I’d rather have a talking frog.”

Plan – tension between belief that God has a clear plan, versus the view of human freedom and the Creator’s release of nature at the start. Deism – the Master Clock-maker.

Evolutionary theory that the universe seems to be programmed toward the development of consciousness and complexity. Theory that the web itself may attain consciousness at some point. (Ghost in the Shell)

Movie – Avatar – that life itself can be conscious and move toward the preservation of life and harmony.

Wall Street – what happens when there is no plan beyond greed and immediate gratification. Time Magazine: A trader: “If we’re making a trade that will make us lots of money, and if we know it will take the economy over a cliff, we would still make that trade every day.” Goldman Sach’s plan – allegedly – to sell toxic mortgage based securities and then short the sale, expecting them to fail.

NPR – Alan Swan’s talk – can’t be a plan, God gave us dominion and free will and let go. It is our own fault and nature’s interactions. Rabbi Abraham Heschel?

But Revelation is an ‘unveiling’ of a plan, a culmination, a final coming of heaven down to earth.

Michael Riley in Asbury Park Press: “Stupid Things Christians Say” “Everything that happens is part of God’s plan.” To believe that means that a baby beaten to death by a meth-addicted father is furthering God’s agenda, that the Holocaust was right on schedule, that centuries of slavery were somehow necessary for the universe to have a very happy ending. That’s almost evil sort of nonsense. The truth is that once God created folks with free will, terrible things happen, and God has to tack, duck, and weave to get creation back on track.”

The focus passage from Revelation gives a picture of what life in the church is to be like. See the article “Living in New Jerusalem” on p. 117 for more insight into the intent of Revelation. For many, however, this vision is believed to exist in a heavenly realm in the future, rather than being a present reality for the church today. Sadly, the way many experience church confirms this belief. In an attempt to honour the experience of all, it will be important to hold side-by-side the vision from Revelation and the present challenges faced by the church.

Revelation 1:1 tells us that this book is the record of John’s visions concerning “what must soon take place.” The dating and the style of language lead most scholars to say Revelation was not written by the apostle John or the author of the gospel of John. This John was a Christian prophet, speaking a vision of God’s word to seven early churches.

The term for this kind of revelation is apocalypse, meaning “unveiling.” Apocalyptic writing seeks to encourage people in the midst of their struggles. An earlier example of apocalyptic literature is the book of Daniel, written to encourage the Jews during the revolt of the Maccabees (about 165 BCE).

Revelation was likely written around 95 CE, near the end of the reign of the Roman emperor, Domitian. Christians were scattered throughout the Roman Empire. There had been some persecution of Christians under emperors Nero and Caligula. Domitian insisted that he be called “My Lord and My God.” Christians refused to pledge allegiance to him in this way and were punished for their refusal.

The focus scripture speaks of a new Jerusalem “coming down” from heaven, the place of perfection. Jerusalem, the central and most important point in the world for Jews (and at this early stage the church was predominately Jewish in self-understanding), is portrayed as a character in a wedding ceremony. In this new time of living, God will remove death and tears. The time of human pain will have passed.

At the same time, the sea is “no more.” For ancient Jews, the sea was a threatening place. With it gone, there no longer would be any chaotic forces that resist God’s sovereign love. There would be “a new heaven and a new earth”– perfect, holy, and in union with God.

This new heaven and new earth are not meant to completely replace the old, for that would mean that human history is ultimately unimportant to God. The vision is one of renewal. Like the plant in the seed, the new has been present in the old all along.

Why is it that it is so hard for people to get along with each other? What is it that makes us enjoy creating enemies and feuding with others? What is going on between my neighbor and I, is being replicated over and over again in our communities, our nation, our world – in the deserts of Iraq and mountains of Afghanistan and the concrete mazes of our inner cities.

My daughter and her friends went to a town meeting last week, when our town was making decisions about the fiscal crisis facing us as we’ve had cuts in State aid. Teachers and some police officers are facing lay-offs, and citizens are forced to decide on priorities. The anti-tax people were furious at the law-enforcement supporters, who were all ignoring the education boosters. And true to form, our citizens ended up acting like bullies, spoiled children, and egotists, refusing to listen and trying to humiate the opposition. My 14 year-old daughter was amazed at the ways these grown-ups put each other down, grandstanded, and were mean-spirited to each other. “Yes,” I commented. “Democracy at work.”

Rev. 21:1 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

            “See, the home of God is among mortals.
             He will dwell with them as their God;
             they will be his peoples,
             and God himself will be with them;
4          he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
             Death will be no more;
             mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
             for the first things have passed away.”

Rev. 21:5 And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” 6 Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

John 13:31 When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32 If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34 I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

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Touch the Wounds

Posted by Administrator on April 11, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Acts 5:27-32
John 20:19–31

The book, Blink, by Malcomb Gladwell, begins with the story of the purchase of an ancient Greek statue by the Getty museum for ten million dollars. It was said that the marble statue of a young boy, a kouros, dated to the sixth century BC was discovered underwater, and was remarkably well preserved. There are only 200 known ‘kouros’ in the world, and most are in fragments. This statue was in excellent condition. To insure the authenticity of the statue, the Getty museum hired dozens of experts to do scientific analysis using electron microscope, mass spectrometry, X-ray defraction and more. The scientists agreed that the age of the marble and the condition of the statue, was on target. Then they called in experts in the art world, museum curators, art historians, and others who knew Greek art intimately. As soon as they saw the work, several renowned scholars had immediate reactions that told them that this was a fake. One looked at the fingernails and felt they were wrong. One man said he felt ill when he saw the statue. Another woman, when told that the museum was about to own it, blurted out, “I’m sorry to hear that.” Another, a former of the MET in NY, said he thought it looked too ‘fresh.’ Their hearts told them that this was a fake, but they couldn’t tell exactly what it was. “Prove it,” said the Getty people. The scholars could not pinpoint exactly what it was the told them this, but they knew it in their guts. Later, it was indeed found that the statue was an elaborate fake, after the Getty had spent millions. Sometimes you just know –in your soul – after experiencing something face to face.

Thomas needed to know for himself whether this talk about Jesus’ resurrection was just talk, or if it was true; and he needed to know by direct experience. Second hand faith was not good enough for him. He said: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Yes, he was pretty thick-headed. But you could also say that he was true to his heart. He wasn’t going to just roll over and follow along with the crowd. But once he reached out and touched the wounds of Christ, then he knew in his heart of hearts that Jesus was the Messiah, the Risen Savior.

Too often Jesus and his Way are reduced to abstract notions and pious sermons and obscure symbols. Book after book are written about the theological significance of our faith. But, in the onslaught of words and ideas we can lose the core meaning of the relationship we are meant to share with Christ. Thomas, stubborn as he was, showed us that the best way to know Jesus is to touch his wounds.

As Christians we bring our wounded savior into the wounded places in life. We find Jesus most profoundly in situations of pain and sorrow, when people feel a powerful need for safety, to find comfort, to gain freedom from despair or inner turmoil. We often think that Jesus is found best in the hush of a chapel or the quiet of a library; but Thomas is teaching us today that Jesus is best discovered where the wounds of the world are revealed: amid bloody conflicts and in impoverished villages and in clinics with few medications and little hope. Jesus himself teaches us this when he talks about what it takes to be chosen by God. You would think that he would side with the scholars with high degrees, pious priests and learned theologians, benefactors of churches or those with the power and means to change history. But no – for Jesus, those who are closest to God are simply the compassionate; those called in their hearts to touch the wounds of this world.

‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ (Matt 25:34-36)

We often wish Jesus were more than a wounded savior. We’d prefer a superhero – a magical fixer-upper – a super-strong defender of all that is right and good. We’d prefer someone in a spandex suit who would make it all better in the blink of an eye. And sometimes Jesus did this. But mostly, Jesus offered hope in life-after-life, and love in life. He offers us his presence, wounds and all. We walk into a hospital room and see someone we love struggling for breath, limbs weak from cancer, eyes struggling to see. And even though we pray – even though we come with valiant love – still, what we offer as Christians is not guaranteed healing or heroic rescue. We offer our wounded savior. We offer unity in suffering. We offer tears and prayers. And that has to be enough.

We go to miners in Appalachia with this wounded love – offering not miracles or feats of magic, but rather solidarity in suffering, offering the wounded Christ to be with the sorrowing families. We go to the people of Poland, having lost their leaders, with sympathy and tears. We go to places of warfare and violence and do vigil with the innocent victims. We go to loved ones in our own church who are severely ill or who are dying, with cards and calls and casseroles – which symbolize our love and our willingness to be present in their pain.

That doesn’t mean that we don’t strive to help or to change the conditions of suffering. Of course, we need to build hospitals, to raise funds to assist the homeless or those suffering from injustice. We need to speak out against abductions and killings of the innocent in the Philippines and elsewhere. We need to support Janet Clapp in her work yesterday at Vonage with the run/walk for ‘Crack the Code’ in efforts to find a genetic avenue for a vaccine to stop cancer. We need to help build a clinic at the Mbiriizi Elementary School in Uganda. Yes. We need to help.

But we also realize when we don’t have all the solutions, when we can’t fix every problem, then we need to accept the reality of suffering, brokenness and pain. That is what is often most difficult in church work – and in the work of those involved in pastoral care in our church. We’re not doctors who can cure terrible illnesses or shield those we love from accidents or old age. We can’t pay mortgages for those who can’t afford them, or hire workers who have lost jobs. We can’t solve all conflicts in relationships or guarantee that people won’t have disagreements and falling-outs in community life. We just can’t solve all problems, as much as we try. But like Thomas, we can touch the wounds with compassion and care. We can enter into the upper room with a spirit of love.

I remember hearing the Quaker writer, Parker Palmer, talking once about the terrible depression he went through years ago. He was so down and engulfed in the darkness of his despair that he couldn’t even talk. But an old friend of his – a person the Quakers would call a ‘weighty elder’ – would come to his room every day and just sit with him, and sometimes rub his feet. Nothing else. No talking, no solutions, no guilt, no efforts to manipulate the situation. He would just come bearing his wounded love and compassion.

This is the job of the church – to be witnesses to the suffering and sorrow of humanity – not always to fix them, but to be honest and aware of the wounds around us. We are not to avoid the holes in the hands of the innocent or the cuts in the sides of those who seek peace, but bring the presence of our wounded savior to them. That is why people speak out against atrocities in warfare – even if they may be speaking out against our own army – like protesting the deaths of civilian villagers slain in errant bombs in Afghanistan, or the case of Abu Graib in Iraq. This is why Christians stand up and speak out about detention centers in Newark or Freehold, where immigrants are often detained for years without adequate medical care and out of touch with their families. This is why Christians protest the injustice of who lose their medical care because of petty rules or ‘pre-existing conditions’ by the insurance industry. Christians place their hands into the wounds of others and out of compassion strive for justice. That means going against the ways of the world – standing up for equality, for sharing, for the poor, for non-violence – yes, for social justice.

On February 12, 2005, several gunmen, on the payroll of a rancher in the state of Para in Brazil, approached a 73 year-old American nun, who defended the rights of Indians in the Amazon to preserve their homelands in the face of massive logging. As the men aimed their guns, she removed her Bible and began to read from the Gospel of St. Matthew: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they shall be satisfied.” The gunmen unloaded six bullets into her, leaving her body facedown in the mud. (The Lost City of Z by David Grann)

Glen Beck, the radio commentator, says that this is focus on justice is wrong-headed. He urges his audience to leave congregations that talk about helping the poor. He said, “Look for the words ‘ social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church web-site. If you find it, run as fast as you can.” Faith, he says, is not about caring for the poor; it is not about changing the world; it is not about being in solidarity with the poor of the world. No, it is about being right; and believing in an idea of salvation that will get you into heaven. The charity, “Bread for the World” and other organizations have invited people to sign an on-line petition to Beck that reads: “Economic and social justice are central to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Quit using your bully pulpit to spread misinformation and fear by comparing faithful Christians who care ‘for the least of these’ to Nazis and communists.” Yes, caring for the wounds of the world have always been the job of faithful Christians.

Thomas teaches us this. He recognized the authenticity of the Risen Savior by putting his hands in his wounds. Jesus offer his hands and his side to those who suffer with him. We are asked to recognize this – and to do likewise: putting our hands into the wounds of the world – and having our eyes opened to the presence of Christ there. Amen.

Focus Scripture: Acts 5:27–32

The story of the community of Jesus’ disciples after the Resurrection is told in the book of Acts. This book moves readers from stories of Jesus into the stories of Jesus’ community. Most scholars agree that the same person wrote Luke and Acts.

The confrontation described in the focus scripture began when authorities told Peter and John “not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus” (Acts 4:18). Peter’s response to this edict was “we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Acts 4:20). This response stands in sharp contrast to Peter’s denial of knowing Jesus on the evening before Jesus’ crucifixion (Luke 22:54–62).

Peter’s response to the council leaders defends the apostles’ witness on the basis of “obeying” God. The Greek word translated as “obey” is peitharecho. It literally means “to follow or do first.” Being obedient and faithful witnesses calls disciples to establish clear priorities in favour of Christ’s teachings. Faithful obedience puts first things first. Following Peter’s testimony, the council again tells the apostles “not to speak in the name of Jesus” (Acts 5:40). Again, they rejoiced and “did not cease to teach and proclaim Jesus as the Messiah” (Acts 5:42).

This text has been used to justify persecution of Jewish people, too often with tragic results. The problem here is not Judaism. Peter and the other early disciples were Jews, as Peter notes in his comment about Jesus being raised by the “God of our ancestors.” The argument here is a “family squabble” – Peter is addressing inflexible religious leaders who will not allow themselves or others to move with the freedom of God’s Spirit.

A central truth in the book of Acts is captured in the statement “We are witnesses.” Disciples are called to live in community and to be shaped by the community’s life together. Acts 2:43–47 and Acts 4:32–37 tell how this early community of disciples shared its life together. Elsewhere in Acts, community supports and nurtures those who face challenges and persecution. All that the Christian community does – then and now – is part of our witness to what and whom we “put first.”

In times of rejoicing and in times of challenge, God’s people can trust that God’s steadfast love endures and that God continues to work through individuals and communities. Psalm 118:14–29 speaks of God using a stone rejected by builders. God chooses through whom to work. Psalm 150 is a song of praise that is universal in setting and instrument. God reigns wherever life is found.

Using the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, Revelation 1:4–8 declares God to be Alpha and Omega, encompassing all and drawing us into God’s reign. In the time of uncertainty and fear described in John 20:19–31, God’s ultimate power is revealed through the wounds of Jesus. Gifts of peace and Spirit are given to Thomas and the other disciples, to empower their witness.

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New Heaven/New Earth

Posted by Administrator on April 4, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

Revelations 21:1-6
John 13:31-35

NPR – Alan Swan’s talk – can’t be a plan, God gave us dominion and free will and let go. It is our own fault and nature’s interactions. Rabbi Abraham Heschel?

But Revelation is an ‘unveiling’ of a plan, a culmination, a final coming of heaven down to earth.

Michael Riley in Asbury Park Press: “Stupid Things Christians Say” “Everything that happens is part of God’s plan.” To believe that means that a baby beaten to death by a meth-addicted father is furthering God’s agenda, that the Holocaust was right on schedule, that centuries of slavery were somehow necessary for the universe to have a very happy ending. That’s almost evil sort of nonsense. The truth is that once God created folks with free will, terrible things happen, and god has to tack, duck, and weave to get creation back on track.”

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Good Friday Sermon 2010

Posted by Administrator on April 2, 2010

Russell Eidmann-Hicks

We gather tonight at the foot of the cross of Christ. We come in reverence for the holy mystery enacted there – the mystery of God’s act of self-giving love, the mystery of a love so great that God was willing to lay down life itself, and the mystery of death itself. We come in awe of the depth of courage, conviction and caring that enabled Christ to make this journey. We come in humility, knowing our own fears of death and our own deficiencies, as we wonder whether we would be able to drink from the cup that Jesus drank from. This is a night of wonder, of sorrow, of prayer at the foot of the cross.

This is also a night to wrestle with what this act means for our lives. What does it mean that the Christ gave his life for us? How does it change us? How does it alter the course of our futures?

Let me share with you a story that wrestles with these questions, and what it means to live as Jesus lived, and to die as he died. The story comes from the book Me to We, Finding Meaning in a Material World by two brothers, Craig and Mark Keilburger. They write:

“When you face your next opportunity to stand up for the kind of world you truly believe in – whether by joining a global campaign, choosing the right candidate, reaching out to a stranger, or improving the life of a loved one – the decision you make to exercise your own personal courage will be paramount.

We met Santosh in Sierra Leone, which was plagued by an eleven-year civil war. Thousands of children were forced to fight in this conflict. The way the were ‘enlisted’ was one o fthe most horrific things we have ever heard. When rebels first entered a village, they would round up the teachers and execute them. The teachers were the community’s ‘wisdom keepers,’ and the rebels believed they had the knowledge and capacity to rally the citizenry against their violent ideology.

The second thing the rebels would do was to gather all of the village’s young people together in a large room or open space. The rebel commander would typically start off with an impassioned speech about the need to free Sierra Leone from the tyranny of the government and then offer the young people two choices.

Their first choice was to join the rebel army. The young people who chose this option would be told to line up in single file. One by one they would be led to the commander, who, with a dull razor blade, would make a deep gash up by their temples, and then rub a mixture of gun-powder and cocaine into the open wound. Once this mixture hit the bloodstream, the youth would become psychologically imbalanced. The young person would then be taken back to his or her home by a rebel soldier, who would force the child to kill either his or her mother or father. This ‘test’ was intended to sever the child’s ties with the community for good, forcing them to accept the rebels as their only family.

Choice number two was a lot less complicated: anyone who refused to join the rebels would have his or her hand chopped off. This is how the rebels ensured they would never be able to fight on the side of the government.

Santosh was ‘head boy,’ what we might call student council president, in his middle school when the rebels came to his village. He was sitting on the ground in front of his school when he heard about the two choices facing the young people of his community. After a moment he stood up, and in a loud voice he said, “Mr. Rebel Commander, I am student council president. You have put me in charge as you executed our teachers.” Though it took every single ounce of courage in his body to stand up and walk in front of his peers, this is exactly what he did. As he walked, he held his right hand high in the air and began to wiggle his fingers.

When Santosh came up on stage, he stood on his toes so all of his classmates could see him. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Mr. Rebel Commander, my name is Santosh. Our village believes in peace. Please leave now!”

The rebel commander was incensed that this young boy would dare to give him such an order. He took out his huge machete and mockingly asked whether Santosh preferred a ‘short sleeve’ or ‘long sleeve.’ Without waiting for an answer, he brought his machete down on his right hand, chopping it off. With a cruel smile, he then handed the boy his severed hand.

Even though he was young, Santosh had enough wisdom to keep his stump high up in the air. He walked away, and he didn’t look back. He walked out of his village, and still he kept walking. When at last he came to the dividing line between Sierra Leone and Guinea, he literally fell into the arms of the UN soldiers who were stationed at the border. He was taken to a field hospital run by Doctors Without Borders, where he underwent a series of operations.

So what does Santosh teach us about the way of the cross? Well, he shows us the courage of Jesus had to walk boldly into Jerusalem. He offers to create a world that reflects the values of the Kingdom of God, and teaches that there are still people in our day who stand up for peace, for justice, for truth. Santosh teaches us to see Jesus in the sorrow and suffering of the many innocent people who die at the hands of the violent, the greedy, the arrogant, the powerful; and calls us to work and pray for an alternative, a new way of living. All of this changes the world. All of this we learn from the cross.

And yet it takes even more to walk in the way of Christ, not only courage, vision and dedication, but something more. Let us listen as the story continues:

Santosh later came to Freetown during the establishment of the shaky cease-fire. When we spoke with him, he told us he was lucky. “Santosh,” we said with great respect, “lucky is not a word we would use to describe you after everything that has happened!” He told us that he was lucky not because of his injury, but because he was finally going back to school. Knowing that nearly all of the public schools in the country had been destroyed during the war, we were curious about how he had become a student.

“I’m paying my own way, and going to a private school,” he explained. “I’ve taught myself to use my left hand, and now I make beautiful wooden statues that I sell to the United Nations troops that come to my village. With the money I’ve saved, “ can now go to school!” We were humbled by his resilience and ingenuity.

“Santosh, standing up for peace that day and losing your hand must have been the most painful decision you have ever had to make in your life!” we said gravely.

“No,” he declared. “The most painful decision came just last week. In the market, I met the man who chopped off my hand.”

After the war, there was a general amnesty in Sierra Leone. Santosh told us the most painful decision of his life was his choice to extend his left hand to shake this man’s right hand as a sign of peace.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing,” said Jesus from the cross. The way of the cross also includes forgiveness and loving our enemies, which is the only real path to peace.

Tonight, we witness in wonder the awesome courage and self-giving of the Christ – and of his followers throughout the centuries – and their awesome love and forgiveness. This continues to be a sign to the world of the possibility of a peace that passes all human understanding. Let us walk in our own ways in the light of their vision. Amen.

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A New Way Through

Posted by Administrator on March 21, 2010

Russell Eidman-Hicks

Isaiah 43:16-11
John 12:1-8

God speaks to the prophet Isaiah:

            I am about to do a new thing;
                        now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
            I will make a way in the wilderness
                        and rivers in the desert. (Is. 43:19)

INTRO:

Isaiah hears the prophesy of God’s deliverance of the people of Israel from 70 years of exile in Babylon. After the terrible destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BC, when the Temple was burned and people slaughtered, many were carried off into exile in a foreign land as a way to control the rebellious population. Ezekiel, who spent most of his life in exile, compares the experience to a desert filled with dry bones. In Psalm 137 we hear the rage of the exiles when they remember what was done to them and their thirst for revenge:

Remember, O LORD,
                        the day of Jerusalem’s fall,
            how they said, “Tear it down! Tear it down!
                        Down to its foundations!”
            O daughter Babylon, you devastator!
                        Happy shall they be who pay you back
                        what you have done to us!
            Happy shall they be who take your little ones
                        and dash them against the rock!    (Psa. 137:7-9)

What we hear in our scripture this morning and in our faith, is that God leads us forth out of exile. Just as God through Moses led the people of Israel from slavery, across the Red Sea and the desert, toward the Promised Land, so God leads us. Just as Ezekiel preaches that dry bones can live again, so God shows us that we can live again. Just as Isaiah preaches that God will create a pathway through the desert to watered places, so we can discover new ways to live.

I found an ancient story recently in the book Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving. It is a simple enough story – entitled “The Adventure of the Mason.” Ancient stories are often parables of the spirit, and so this one sounds simple enough, but it is a story of faith and spiritual deliverance, showing that the Spirit of God is at work behind the scenes, bringing new life and hope to those in exile, or those in desert places. God creates new possibilities.

The story begins: “Once upon a time there was a poor mason, or bricklayer, in Granada, who kept all the saints days and holidays, and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn break for his numerous family.”

Do you see how he is in exile? Here is a man of faith, with great devotion, and yet he is not being rewarded for his faithfulness. He is poor, with the stress of providing for many dependents – and yet he struggles. Is God silent; does God care?

Have you ever found yourself in exile? Have you ever been forcefully removed from all that is familiar and customary, to find yourself in a foreign land? Do you wonder if God is there; if life can be This may come with a parent’s announcement of a move to a new home, when you must say good-bye to friends, school, neighborhood and childhood memories. Or it may come with a pinkslip, when suddenly you are transported from a job you understand and co-workers who are friends, to an unknown desert, where you wonder how you will find food and drink. Or it may come with a phone call or a knock on the hospital door, and a voice telling you a loved one has passed away or that you yourself face a health crisis – leaving you in exile in the land of grief, without familiar companionship and routine. Exile is a common experience.

Then into this desert comes something new:

“One night he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking on his door. He opened it, and beheld before him a tall, meager, cadaverous-looking priest.”

Here is a hint of deliverance, but no – the priest is not full of vitality and blessing – but is shriveled up and deadly. Perhaps this represents the institutional church – that is often just a shell of true religion, and is dried up and without spiritual sustenance – even if it is wealthy.

“Hark ye, honest friend!” said the strange priest, “I have observed that you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted. Will you undertake a job this very evening?”

“With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am paid accordingly.”

“That you shall be, but you must suffer yourself to be blindfolded.”

To this the mason made no objection; so, being hoodwinked, he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and winding passages, until they stopped before the portal of a house. The priest then turned a key, and a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted through an echoing corridor, and a spacious hall, to an interior part of the building. Here the blindfold was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in a court, dimly lit by a single lamp. In the center was the dry basin of an old Moorish fountain, with brightly colored tiles.”

So – we find the mason brought to a location where water was hinted at – a beautiful, ancient fountain – and yet it is dry. There is the promise of refreshment, beauty, and healing, but again, there is disappointment. This is a dried up and disappointing hope – like most exiles. We may be reminded of the past – our home – but then are frustrated by shallow promises.

“The priest requested the mason to form a small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He accordingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just before daybreak, the priest put a piece of gold into his hand, and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his dwelling.

            “Are you willing,” said he, “to return and complete your work?”
            “Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am so well-paid.”
            “Well, then, tomorrow at midnight, I will call again.”
            He did so, and the vault was completed.

“Now,” said the priest, “you must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in this vault.”

The poor mason’s hair rose on his head at these words. He followed the priest, with trembling steps, into the dark chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle of death; but was relieved on perceiving three or four portly jars standing in one corner. They were evidently full of money, and it was with great labor that he and the priest carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The vault was then closed, the pavement replaced, and all traces of the work were obliterated. The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route different from that by which he had come.”

The priest – again perhaps representing the institutional church – reveals the possibility of great sustenance and healing, enormous wealth. The mason sees the potential, finally, of deep, lasting, spiritual fulfillment – even though it is beyond his grasp. Yet, it is bricked up, in a stone vault – beyond his grasp and knowledge. This priest controls great riches, and yet hordes these provisions and refuses to share. The church can be like this – having untold depths of spiritual riches, and yet it shuts them away from the common people, hiding them in stone vaults or cathedrals. These riches are meant to be for the people – common people like this mason, or you and I.

The story goes on to say that the priest paid the mason two gold coins and left him beside the river, from which he found his way home. The gold was soon spent and he and his family were again desperately poor.

“The mason works and prays a good deal, and keeps the saints days and holidays, from year to year, while his family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gypsies. As he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon, who was noted for owning many houses, and being a griping landlord. The man of money eyed him for a moment from beneath a pair of shagged eyebrows. “I am told, friend, that you are very poor.”

“There is no denying the fact, senor – it speaks for itself.”

“I presume then, that you would be glad of a job, and will work cheap.”

“As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada.”

“That’s what I want. I have an old house fallen into decay, which costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair, for nobody will live in it. So I must contrive to patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible.” The landlord showed him to the deserted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. The mason paused for a moment for a dreaming recollection of the place came over him.

“Pray,” said he, “who occupied this house formerly?”

“A pest upon him!” cried the landlord. “It was an old, miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, was though he would leave his treasures to the church. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take possession of his eatlth; but nothing could they find. The worse luck has fallen on me, for since his death, the old fellow continues to haunt this house, with people hearing the clinking of gold all night in the chamber where the old priest slept, as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in it.”

Ahh! So the wealth of the priest has done nothing for him because he has not been generous or faithful – preferring instead to remain selfish and greedy. Some churches can be like this – mausoleums of gaudy wealth, dogma, and prestige, but without any real benefit to common people. No one can live in this house, because it is haunted, it has no hospitality or warmth or caring. But, God allows something new to happen. God makes a new path in the desert.

“Enough,” said the mason sturdily, “let me live in your house rent-free until some better tenant present, and I will engage to put it in repair, and to quit the troubled spirit that disturbs it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not to be daunted by the Devil himself.”

The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his engagements. By little and little he restored it to its former state. The clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the chambers of the old priest, but began to be heard in the pocket of the living mason. He increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of his neighbors, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He gave large sums to the church, by way of satisfying his conscience, and never revealed the secret of the vault until on his deathbed to his son and heir.

The promise of this story – like the promise of our faith – is that eventually a way will be found for us to tap into the great wellsprings of refreshment and reward that are found within the spiritual life, and in faithful service and goodness. In the end, a way will open in the wilderness. Finally, a pathway will be found in desert, with fresh water and the hope of freedom. From exile and sorrow, will come a way of renewal and vitality.

This is also true of the church. It is not meant to horde its wisdom and its riches. It is meant to be open to all, and to serve the needs of common folk. The church can be renewed and revitalized in each generation by people of sincere faith and service. On this New Member Sunday we certainly experience this. Today we welcome new friends into the life of our church, and discover great wealth of spirit passed on and shared from generation to generation.

            God says:   I am about to do a new thing;
                        now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
            I will make a way in the wilderness
                        and rivers in the desert. (Is. 43:19)

Can we trust in this hope and promise – or is this just an ancient, foolish tale? Is there really a way out of exile? That, friends, is what faith is all about.

Amen.

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach concludes our wisdom anthology: “An old Jewish saying has it that the difference between the wise man and the clever man is that the clever man can extricate himself from a situation into which the wise man never would have gotten himself in the first place.

“Ours is a smart generation. We are the most educated and prosperous people of all time, capable of things so complex that they would have been seen as miraculous just a generation ago. On the other hand, things that seemed so simple and intuitive not too long ago are utterly beyond us. We don’t know how to stay married. Inspiring our kids to make positive moral choices is challenging to us. Heck, with all our money and high standards of living, we don’t even know how to be happy.

“Why do difficult things come so easily to us while easy things are difficult to impossible? Because being smart involves mastering the world around us, while being wise involves mastering the world within. Smart is the ability to manipulate people, nature, and the elements and bend them to our will. But wise is the human capacity to find the one transcendent essence that underlies all things.”

–In Character (incharacter.org), Fall 2009

Is. 43:16         Thus says the LORD,
                        who makes a way in the sea,
                        a path in the mighty waters,
17        who brings out chariot and horse,
                        army and warrior;
            they lie down, they cannot rise,
                        they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
18        Do not remember the former things,
                        or consider the things of old.
19        I am about to do a new thing;
                        now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
            I will make a way in the wilderness
                        and rivers in the desert.
20        The wild animals will honor me,
                        the jackals and the ostriches;
            for I give water in the wilderness,
                        rivers in the desert,
            to give drink to my chosen people,
21                    the people whom I formed for myself
            so that they

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