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The Gift of Covenant

2012-02-28T15:50:00.000-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Genesis 9:8-17
Galatians 3:27-29

In theearly church the Season of Lent was embraced as a journey of spiritualfortitude for candidates preparing for baptism into the covenant community ofChrist. It was a journey that culminated in a powerful ritual of initiationthrough the dark hours of Holy Saturday and into the dawn of Easter morning. Itwas a communal affair of celebration and hope designed to discipline itscandidates through a series of spiritual practices that would quite literallytransform them into a community of equals: a covenant community in Christ livingin radical resurrection resistance to the powers of domination and exploitationand crucifixion swirling all around them, where Greek surely overpowered Jew, wherefree surely overpowered slave, where male surely overpowered female. But notfor them, because they were “one in Christ Jesus.”

Adultswho wanted to join this covenant community of Christ presented themselves tochurch leaders for a process that was, according to theologians Rita NakashimaBrock and Rebecca Parker, “akin to applying for, attending, and graduating fromcollege while also training for an Olympic team sport and undergoing grouptherapy” (Saving Paradise, 117.) Everything from the occupation of thebaptismal candidates to their knowledge of Scripture to their generosity inalmsgiving was subject to intense scrutiny. And throughout the Season of Lentthey were counseled to practice the spiritual disciplines of study, prayer,fasting, abstinence, voluntary poverty, and non-violence. Practices that we aretoday invited to continue in our own Season of Lent, even if we are among the“already baptized.”

We whoare Protestant might dismiss this kind of preparation for baptism in the Seasonof Lent as overly legalistic or dependent on “works-righteousness.” We baptizeinfants, after all, who have no knowledge of what we are doing. All time isGod’s time, we would say. And salvation is by God’s grace alone through faithalone. And I do believe those things are the right things to do and toproclaim.

Butimagine what this ritual of spiritual endurance in preparation for baptism inthe season of Lent meant for a first or second or third century Jew living as acrushed religious and ethnic minority under Greco-Roman culture. Or imaginethat you have lived your days as a Gentile citizen of the Roman Empire imbibingthe superiority of the Greco-Roman world in your mother’s milk without everhaving to notice the heavy price that is paid by those who do not share thesupremacy of your culture. Are you really going to believe “there is no longerJew or Greek it? Are you really going to liveit? How?

Orimagine what this ritual of spiritual endurance meant for first or second orthird century slaves subject to the whim of their masters, with no ownership oftheir very bodies (which biblical scholars are beginning to concede weresubject to the systematic rape and abuse and torture of those who enslaved them).Imagine what it means for the enslaver himself to give up his ownership ofother human beings—an ownership he has been cultivated to expect as anentitlement—and learn to live with them as equals. Are you really going tobelieve “there is no longer slave or free”? Are you really going to live it? How?

Orimagine what this ritual of spiritual endurance meant for first or second orthird century women, whose voices were not welcome as legitimate testimony in acourt of law, whose names are barely mentioned or flat-out erased fromreligious history. And then imagine what this ritual meant for first or secondor third century men, who have been taught from the time they were born tocrush anything vulnerable within themselves. And then imagine what this ritualmight mean for us in our senselessand irresponsible and flat-out Self-Inflicted-Nonsenseover sexual orientation and gender identity. Are we really going to believe“there is no longer male and female”? Are we really going to live it? How?

Thetruth is it takes a disciplined, dedicated spiritual endurance to live as acovenant community in Christ. That is why the preparation for baptism in theSeason of Lent was so rigorous in the early church. They knew that living asthe covenant community of Christ required more than intellectual assent to agood idea. It required a practiced dedication to study, prayer, fasting, abstinence,voluntary poverty, nonviolence. An examination of conscience. An exorcism ofanger and fear and greed. They could not “think” their way into this covenant.They had to “practice” their way into it.

By thetime baptismal candidates in the first and second and third centuries who trulywanted to join this covenant community gathered in the dead of night on HolySaturday, they really were prepared to become a new creation Christ where therewas no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female. Where they reallywere “one” with all of creation the way God had intended it all along. Theyshed their old clothes before entering the baptismal pool, symbolically leavingtheir old life behind. They presented their naked bodies for anointing withoil, the same way we presented our foreheads for anointing on Ash Wednesday.They stepped into the pool and confessed their faith as the bishop immersedthem in the cleansing, healing, renewing waters. And they rose again to newlife as Easter morning dawned.

Thedeacons of the community wrapped the newly baptized in a white linen robe, “clothingthem with Christ,” and leading them into the mysteries of the Eucharist. Andthat ancient baptismal formula from Galatians 3:28 was very likely spoken inthe early hours of Easter Sunday—every Easter Sunday—as each newly baptizedmember emerged, naked, from the ritual waters of baptism and claimed a new lifeas a member of this covenant community . . .

Why amI sharing this with you today?

Of thesix things the Madison Square mission statement proclaims you want to be anddo, the very first of them is this: “to be a community that is open andwelcoming to all people, without regard for nationality, ethnicity, sexualorientation, or socio-economic status.” Sound familiar? To me, it is an awfullot like Galatians 3:28, updated for 21^st century AmericanChristianity: there is no longer American or un-American; there is no longerwhite or black or Hispanic or middle-eastern; there is no longer straight orgay; there is no longer rich and poor; for all of us are one in Christ Jesus. And we are supposed to live like it!

This isthe covenant community of equals we claim in our baptism. It sounds an awfullot like the covenant with creation we claim in the rainbow from the book ofGenesis. And I have to say, as someone who is still relatively new in yourmidst, I think you do it remarkably well.

ButLent is about self-examination and penitence and turning from the ways in whichwe fail to live up to the covenant. And my word of caution in meditating onthis part of our mission is to be clear that we really are rooted in thecovenant community we are called to be in Christ. The one we claim in ourbaptism. The one that goes back to the beginning of creation and is sealed bythat rainbow as God’s promise for all creation. It is not about being“politically correct.” Or . . . even as much as I love you for it . . . aboutbeing “the little church that leans a little to the left.” It is about thecovenant we proclaim for the kingdom of God. Period.

And myword of caution today is that it really does take a disciplined, dedicatedspiritual endurance to live as a covenant community in Christ. As well as we dothis at Madison Square, the truth is that we aren’t there yet, either. If wepat ourselves on the back thinking we have figured it out and others have not .. . well . . . we have entirely missed the point. Because the truth is that we needthe community to come around us and walk beside us and challenge us when wefail our part in the Covenant.

That iswhy we have the Season of Lent. Not to beat ourselves up for how bad we are.But to join in a disciplined, dedicated, spirit-filled reminder of how good Godhas created us to be. In study, prayer, fasting, abstaining. Asking God totransform us into the community of equals we say we want to be, and trustingGod to make it so . . . on that Easter Sunday morning . . . when the sun rises. . . and the resurrection dawns . . . and in Christ we really are a newcreation.

This isour Lenten mission. It is our Madison Square mission. It is our Christianmission.

I prayit may it be so.

Amen.

Joy Comes in the Morning

2012-02-14T10:48:00.005-06:00

By Rev. Gusti LinneaNewquist

StaffAppreciation Sunday

Psalm 30:1-5; Mark1:40-45

It wasa Holy Communion last Sunday, was it not? Through Mark’s Gospel lesson lastweek, we found ourselves at the home of Simon Peter. And we found, in Simon’smother-in-law, a resurrected minister of grace ready to serve as our mentor inthe movement to “welcome home” the people of God. And we came to the table ofsustenance in celebration of the joyful feast of the people of God . . .

. . .and then we left the building . . . and then we went to work.

Whetherit is a paying job or a non-paying job, we get out of bed on a Monday morning—aftera Sunday morning—and we get to work.

And sothe question is this: is our Sunday morning communion strong enough to wake usup singing “joy comes in the morning,” in the words of Psalm 30, on the Mondayafter the Sunday when we are refreshed at the table of sustenance and reborninto the world as a new creation for justice and peace? Or is Monday morningmore like a blaring alarm clock demanding our allegiance long before we arereally ready to get out of bed? Or is it, more likely, a little of both?

Becausetoday is the first annual “Staff Appreciation Sunday” here at Madison Square, Ihave been thinking a lot this week about what it means as a person of faith toget up in the morning and go to work—joyfully or begrudgingly—whether our workis explicitly for the church, or if we live out our calling in the so-called“secular sphere.” And of course I would argue that there is no separationbetween the secular and the sacred in the end. That all work is God’s work. Thatall places are God’s places. That the gifts and talents God has given us to usein God’s good creation are to the glory of God, no matter where or how we usethem.

It was,after all, Jesus, himself, with his work of healing, who left the building withus at the end of our gospel lesson last week. He is on the move this Mondaymorning in our text this week. Moving from healing in the religious space ofthe synagogue, to healing in the private space of Simon’s home, to healing inthe very public space of the plains of Galilee where people are going about thedaily business of their lives. And where the outcast of the outcasts wandersmorning after morning in search of a redemption that seems like it will nevercome.

Thisoutcast of outcasts is a leper. Which in the New Testament means someone withany number of diseases that are highly contagious. Or highly disfiguring. Orjust plain scary to the folks who don’t want to be sick. The leper’s disease isso scary that no one will touch him. And no one will give him a job. And no onewill welcome him home. Because their tables will be contaminated, and theirbeds will be contaminated, and their pews will be contaminated. And so theleper wanders. Outcast. Begging. In a kind of open-air solitary confinement.

Andhaving tried everything else, the leper hopes against hope that this man Jesuscan help him. And he does. Because that is the job God has given Jesus to do.

2000years after this 1^st century Monday morning workday for Jesus we canalmost hear the healed man singing Psalm 30 to everyone he meets from here onout: God has drawn me up . . . we can hear him croon . . . as if out of thewaters of baptism. I cried to God for help, and God healed me, he sings.Weeping may linger for the night. But joy comes in the morning.

And theman who was once a leper is now a preacher. And he spreads the word everywherehe goes about the healing ministry of Jesus, to the point that Jesus can nolonger go into town openly but stays out in the country, where the people cometo him from everywhere for the same kind of healing the leper found today andSimon’s mother found last week and every one of us found at this table of gracelast Sunday, the moment we admitted we needed whatever healing Jesus couldoffer. The moment we said, “If you choose, you can make me well.” And God said,“I choose.” And we were made well.

Jesus,for his part, is angry. “Snorting with indignation” is how one translatordescribes him. Furious that the social order has devolved to the point that thewalking wounded are left to suffer in silence. Cut off from human contact. Cutoff from any means of providing for themselves and their families. Cut off fromthe work God gave them to do. Cut off in the end, even from God. Furious thathis own ministry may now be at risk because he has touched this man who used tobe a leper. Because it is all fine and good to raise up a hard-working woman inbed with a fever, but it is something quite different to put your hands on aleper.

Jesushas been contaminated, too, by touching this leper. Now his job is at risk. Who will want to come to him for healing now?Answer? Everyone. “People come to him from every quarter,” the gospel writersays. As soon as they hear there’s a place they can be healed, they come. Fromeverywhere. And Jesus heals them. Because that is the job of Jesus.

Itdoesn’t seem to matter where Jesus goes or what he says or how he says it. Thepeople are desperate for healing, and they will go wherever they have to go inorder to find it. And it is as true for us today as it was for them back then.We want to sing with joy in the morning wherever we are: at church, at home, atwork. We just do. And we should!

Accordingto the Presbyterian tradition, the number one job of humankind—the whole pointof our existence, really—is simply “to glorify God and enjoy God forever,” nomatter what we do to earn a living. Glorify God. Enjoy God. Forever. Period.Now this may sound like a no-brainer, but don’t forget this job description forthe human race comes from the same tradition that is linked with the myth ofthe “Protestant work ethic”! (As if somehow God wants us to suffer through dayafter day of drudgery on the job in order to garner the keys to the kingdom.)

Thetruth is, the bottom line is, God wantsus to live in joy! God wants us to delight in the good gifts God hascreated within us. And God wants us to be healed from any illness or injusticethat would keep us from offering those gifts to the world. God wants us todelight in our work of creation the same way God delights in the work of God’screation. For 6 days, God works in joy. And on the 7^th day, Godrests. And delights. And starts all over again the next day.

And sodo we. If we are faithful.

Thatis, in the end, why Jesus heals the leper. That is why Jesus heals Simon’smother-in-law. That is why Jesus heals you and me on these Sundays at the tablewhen our communion binds us to God and one another. Because what we do here onSunday morning is not really, in the end, about Sunday morning at all. It’sabout Monday morning. With the alarmblaring. And the children screaming. And the bones creaking. And the dogbarking. And the schoolbus honking. Because even then the sound of psalm 30 canrise from our lips: that God has lifted me up. God has healed me. God hasrestored me to life. And joy really does come with this morning.

I prayit may be so. Amen.

Proclaiming the Mission

2012-02-06T16:10:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Isaiah 40:21-31

Mark1:29-39

What isit that ails us this Super Bowl Sunday morning? What fever grips us to thepoint of desperation for Christ’s healing touch? Is it “Patriot Fever”? Or adesperate determination to drive Eli Manning into the endzone for a go-aheadtouchdown?

Or isit a somewhat more refined fire for soaring sopranos to lift our spirits onwings like eagles, as the prophet Isaiah says, higher and higher over theexhaustion of the daily grind or the anxiety of just not ever seeming to beable to make those ends meet or the true reality of our ever-present mortality,so we can remember the whole purpose of human existence. Which is, in the end,“to glorify God and enjoy God forever.” Which is what we re-member when we comehere to this table of grace.

Allthese things and more raise us up out of our beds on a perfectly good sleep-inSunday, and drive us from the comfort of our own homes to the greater comfortof this home, where the waters ofbaptismal grace flow unbounded, and the joyful feast of the people of God feedsthe deepest hunger of our souls, and the Word of hope carries us forward as anew creation for justice and peace.

Allthese things and more have also propelled Jesus and Simon and Andrew and Jamesand John to their first century synagogue in Capernaum in Mark’s Gospel readingfor this morning. But something is not quite right on this particular Sabbathday. Someone is missing: Simon’s mother-in-law, who is bedridden, burning with“demonic force,” as her community would have interpreted her illness. “Homebound,”as we would say in the church today. She has missed out on the healing and thewholeness and the hope of that morning with Jesus in the gathering of thepeople. And they miss her. And she misses them.

And so“immediately” after leaving the spiritual home of the synagogue, Simon bringsJesus to the actual home of his mother-in-law and begs Jesus to help her.

Now wecould get cynical here. I know the first time I read this story as a buddingfeminist, I thought, “Sure.” They heal the woman so she can serve them! What a victory forhumankind! (A woman’s work is never done.)

Butsomething much more profound is going on here, if we pay close attention to thestory. Simon’s mother-in-law is, as far as we can tell, quite poor. Very likelya widow, living with her daughter’s family. Meaning we can assume her sons areeither non-existent or no longer living. And Simon, himself—her currentprovider—is among the class of fishermen that does not even own a boat. He andhis brother, Andrew, wade waist deep every day into the water of the Sea ofGalilee to cast their nets, gathering whatever fish are swarming in the shoalsalong the shoreline.

It is asubsistence living. And the way things are going with the Romancommercialization of the Sea of Galilee, even this subsistence living isliterally and metaphorically “drying up.” Not only that, but Simon and Andrewhave just thrown it all away to join this Jesus guy from Nazareth inproclaiming the coming kingdom of God! Leaving the women of the house trulypanicked about what will happen next.

Simon’smother-in-law may, in fact, be ill. Or she may be flat-out exhausted by theweight of it all. Whatever it is, she could use those wings like eagles rightabout now. She has been “waiting on God” for an awfully long time. So herecomes Jesus. And he could, if he wanted, just patch her up with an ice-pack anda pat on the shoulder and send her running back down the field with two minutesto go in the game. No pain, no gain. All for the good of the team.

Insteadhe raises her! He raises her.

And bythat, I mean that the Gospel writer uses the same word here to describe theraising of Simon’s mother-in-law that is used fifteen chapters later todescribe the raising of Jesus. Meaning that the raising of Simon’smother-in-law is the first resurrection to occur in the gospels! Meaning thatin “serving” Jesus and Simon and Andrew and James and John on that Sabbath day—inresponse to her resurrected life—Simon’s mother-in-law becomes the first“Deacon,” which is the word used here to describe her ministry with her newhuman family. Meaning that in breaking the bread and pouring the wine that waslikely her very simple meal for the disciples of Christ on that Sabbath day, shepresides over a truly “holy communion”—in grateful response to her resurrectedlife—making her the first “minister of Word and Sacrament.”

Simonand Andrew may have left everything to follow Jesus. But it is Simon’smother-in-law who really “gets it” about what Jesus is trying to do. She whohas served so very many for so very long—perhaps out of love, perhaps out ofeconomic necessity—can go no further without the touch of Christ. And it is thesame for us. In order to keep serving—out of love or out of necessity—we mustbe healed, we must be restored, we must be refreshed for new life. And so wecome to the table of sustenance and find a new life of our own.

But ourhealing, our salvation, our resurrectedlives gift us with the power of Christ to heal others in the same way. Simon’s mother-in-law, the minister, knowsit. We, I hope, know it. Simon, God bless him, does not. He thinks it alldepends on Jesus, himself. “Where have you been?” you can almost hear Simondemanding when Jesus has gone off by himself to pray. “We need you!” But Jesus has already ordained the minister of the first“house church” of the Jesus movement. She can keep the ministry of healinggoing on just fine without him.

Jesus has been called toproclaim the mission throughout the rest of Galilee. And in the preaching andthe teaching and the pastoral care of Jesus throughout the neighboring towns, thehome of Simon’s resurrected mother-in-law becomes the prototype for all of thehouse churches in which the earliest Christians would gather for over twohundred years as a new human family to claim that same resurrecting power forthemselves: by serving one another, by feeding at the table of sustenance, byclaiming the waters of baptism for themselves.

Infact, I would go so far as to suggest that the house church of Simon Peter’smother-in-law is the model for how we do ministry here at Madison Square today.Because healing is, right here, right now, for all who would join in thisSabbath grace welcome home. With the mother-in-law of Simon soaring on wingslike eagles, inviting us to join Jesus here at the table for a resurrectionfeast.

But itdoesn’t end here. Because healing is—right here, right now—for all who cannotseem to find their way to this particular home in this particular place on thisparticular day. And our job as the resurrected people of God is to proclaimthat mission as far and as wide as we can.

It justso happens that the Mission Committee of Madison Square Presbyterian Church isready to do just that. We will meet after worship today to focus our attentionon two major areas of mission outreach in the coming year: working for peace inparticular by advocating for a Department of Peace at the national level; andresponding to the homelessness that surrounds us as a downtown church. And ofcourse, there are many other ways Madison Square is involved in mission,including the support of small farmers through the Presbyterian Coffee Projectand our ongoing support of Haven for Hope, SAMMinistries, Christian AssistanceMinistries, the SouperBowl of Caring, Habitat for Humanity, and the “Ready,Willing, and Enable” program.

If youhave not yet made a commitment to one of the many missions of Madison Square,now is the time to do so. Talk to Rebecca Baker about your desire to serve . .. or talk to me, and I’ll put you in touch with her or whomever the rightperson may be.

In themeantime, we bring to the table of grace everything that truly does ail us onthis Super Bowl Sunday morning, with a prayer for healing and a trust in theresurrecting power of God and a hand of hope held out in love, that leads usall to abundant life, so that we may proclaim the same for all we meet.

May wesoar on wings like eagles.

Amen.

The Mouth of the Prophet

2012-01-30T14:31:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Deuteronomy 18: 15-19

Luke 4: 16-30

We were riveted last Sunday, were we not? It was truly a “Healing Sabbath.”

For those of you who were not here, our guest preacher, who is a leader in the Presbyterian marriage equality movement, invited the highest court of the church to stretch out a withered and weary hand on behalf of a denomination that has been disfigured by discrimination for far too long, to soak up the healing touch of the Jesus who wants us all to be well, and to declare once and for all that church law can no longer be used to bind the conscience of pastors in performing the marriages of all couples who seek our pastoral care.

We were riveted. And we applauded. And we came together as one body of Christ to pray the deepest prayer we knew how to pray: that God will give Rev. Clark the mouth of a prophet in challenging the court to make our denomination whole. And that they will listen! And pay attention! And respond! Because God is surely holding us all accountable to “the words that the prophet shall speak” in God’s name through Scott Clark.

I don’t know about you, but I am still praying the prayer we began last week. Still riveted by the prophetic word that was preached from this pulpit. Still touched to the core by the Spirit of God who was so emphatically with us last week that we really could touch her as we touched each other in our laying on of hands. For Scott. For our elders and deacons. And if we are honest, for ourselves.

And yet . . .

As I read the New Testament Lesson from the Gospel of Luke this morning, I cannot help but compare us with that 1st century congregation in Nazareth eagerly awaiting the proclamation of Jesus. And I get a little bit afraid of what could happen next if we don’t pay careful attention to the full scope of the gospel as it is presented to us in this text. You see, the congregation gathering around Jesus in this 1st century congregation in Nazareth is just as enthusiastic about their anointed hero as we are about ours. Word has trickled home to them of the amazing healing ministry of Jesus throughout Galilee. Praise for his prophetic message in pulpits throughout the country has resounded.

They have welcomed him home as “one of their own,” and they are thrilled with his preaching and his teaching and his pastoral care. Just like we are thrilled with the preaching and teaching and pastoral care of Janie Spahr, Scott Clark, and Sara Taylor, who were our guests last weekend.

But then the other shoe drops. And the congregation that has touched the very Spirit of God in anointing Jesus ends up rising in such rage that Jesus fears for his very life when they lead him to the edge of the hill on which their town is built and threaten to hurl him off the cliff.

What in God’s name—literally—has gone wrong!?

The people of Nazareth are truly oppressed. They are, for all practical purposes, colonized by a foreign power. They still bear the deep scars of a bloody revolt they waged against Rome twenty years earlier. Rome decisively and devastatingly crushed them. And, in many ways, crushes them still. Their economic system has been co-opted by Rome. Their movements are monitored by Rome. Their physical wounds from the revolt—including forced blindness—have been inflicted by Rome. Their entire way of life is subject to the whim of Rome.

So when the 1st century congregation in Nazareth hears Jesus say that the Spirit of God has anointed him to “bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and liberty to the oppressed,” they automatically assume Jesus is speaking about them. They are the ones who are poor, are they not? They are the ones who are captive, blind, oppressed. Surely Jesus is speaking about them? And he is! And yet he is not.

Don’t forget, Jesus reminds his congregation, that the gospel is universal. It always has been and it always will be. The great prophet Elijah, himself, Jesus reminds them, left his own people high and dry in the middle of a famine to offer food and comfort to a foreign widow. And of course everyone who is listening will automatically link the foreign widow of Elijah’s day with the Roman Gentiles of their day. Is Jesus saying God cares more about them than God does about us?! That’s downright offensive!

But that’s not all.

Don’t forget, Jesus reminds his congregation, that the gospel is universal. It always has been and it always will be. The great prophet Elisha, himself, Jesus reminds them, healed a soldier of Syria—and not any of his own people—from the dreaded disease of leprosy. And of course everyone who is listening will automatically link the healing of a hated soldier from the Syria of Elisha’s day with the healing of a hated soldier from the Rome of their day. Is Jesus saying God cares more about a Roman soldier than God cares about us?! That’s not just offensive. That’s intolerable!

It is also true.

The Roman Gentile widow, Jesus is saying to the truly oppressed 1st century congregation in Nazareth, may be just as poor as you are. And perhaps poorer. Pay attention! Listen! Respond! God cares about her, too! The conscripted Roman soldier, Jesus is saying to the truly oppressed 1st century congregation in Nazareth, may be just as captive as you are. Pay attention! Listen! Respond! God cares about him, too! The good news of God, Jesus says to the truly oppressed 1st century congregation in Nazareth, is that the liberation of the whole human family is bound up together if we are truly willing to see with God’s eyes and not our own. Listen! Pay attention! Respond! The mouth of the prophet is speaking!

We who live in this 21st century congregation where we, too, have been riveted by the proclamation of good news through the prophetic witness of those who are advocating justice in marriage equality—an issue of social justice that directly affects us—that directly affects us!—encounter a crucial reminder in our gospel lesson for today. The “Healing Sabbath” that Rev. Clark proclaimed last week is—yes—emphatically about us. It is. 100%.

And yet is about far more than us. What Jesus calls “good news to the poor” is in modern Christian ethics is something like a clarion call for economic justice, and it really is for everyone and not just ourselves. What Jesus calls “release to the captives” is in modern Christian ethics something like a clarion call for civil or human rights at every level, and it really is for everyone and not just ourselves. What Jesus calls “recovery of sight to the blind” is in modern Christian ethics something like—dare I say it?—a clarion call for healthcare reform, and it really is for everyone and not just ourselves. We may disagree on the best ways to implement these clarion calls. But they are the heart of the gospel, even if they sound—horror!—“too political.”

What Jesus calls “liberty to the oppressed” is in modern Christian ethics something like a call for every one of us to take a good hard look in the mirror and repent of the ways in which we, too, have given ourselves over to the values of empire, of the ways in which we succumb to the claim God is for us and for our needs alone, of the ways in which we place our own freedom in opposition to the freedom of others. It is a call to say we want to live differently. Starting right here. Starting right now. Because “today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

The good news for Madison Square is that I think we already know this. This congregation has a long history of mission and advocacy for all of God’s children, and that history will guide this community well into the future. There is no need to rise up in rage against the prophet in our midst declaring the Healing Sabbath for one and for all. There is simply a reminder that we are one human family and that the mouth of the prophet speaks for us all.

So listen! Pay attention! And respond!

Amen.

La Fuente de Identidad

2012-01-16T19:01:00.000-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Genesis 1:1-5
Mark 1:4-11

It all begins right here: The Font of Our Identity. A river of grace that flows from the beginning of time . . . to the end of time . . . and every time in between . . .

Because in the beginning, our Scriptures tell us, the earth was empty and had no form. But the God of Genesis did not create the heavens and the earth ‘out of nothing’ as Western Christianity has come to believe. According to the first chapter of Genesis, God birthed the new creation that culminated in humanity from the marriage of a dry and barren soul-sucking desert on the one hand and a deep dark chaotic storm system on the other. This is how the desert people of the Ancient Near East who wrote the Book of Genesis understood the cosmic origins of their existence, in a sweeping mythic narrative whose deep truth dwarfs any contemporary need to read this sacred story as literal or scientific fact.

The deep mythic truth we glean from our Ancient Near East biblical ancestors is this: in the beginning the earth was a formless void, and turbulent waters were covered by darkness, and the God of our ancestors whom we worship and serve still today birthed a new creation from out of this chaos. A creation that includes everything that came before us and everything that will come after us. All beginning right here at the Font of Identity from a river of grace that flows from the beginning of time . . . to the end of time . . . and every time in between . . .

And a ruach of God—meaning a wind or breath or Spirit! of God—was swooping over these deep chaotic turbulent waters of primordial existence. And the Word of God spoke! And the Word of God said, “Let there be!” And there was! Over and over and over again! And God saw that it was good! And it was!

And there was order out of chaos! And there was life out of desolation! And there was hope out of despair! And there was humanity out of earth and water and spirit and word. You and me and all of creation bound together in one common cosmic conception: from earth, water, spirit and word. Which is who we have always been. From the very beginning. La fuente de identidad. Which is why everything we do to the earth we are also doing to ourselves. And everything we do the waters we are also doing to ourselves. And everything we do to the image of God in everyone else we meet we are also doing to ourselves.

The foundation of our identity as God’s good creation is this: we were created to make life flourish! The same way this river of the water of life makes life flourish! It was the first commandment ever given to humankind: a co-creating task from the Creator of all right here in the first chapter of Genesis in the job description of the human race, the foundation of our identity in the image of God: we are to make life flourish, to cultivate gardens and create cities, to celebrate abundance, to care for creation as creation has cared for us, to delight in the earth and the water and the wind and the word without which not one of us would have our existence.

Wouldn’t it have been great if we could have just closed the book right there?!

But we didn’t. We fell.

We can call it the Garden of Eden and the Tree and the Apple. Or we can call it the profound failure of the human race to rest in Sabbath delight of the glory of the creation that defines every part of our identity, in the blessed miracle of each one of our lives birthed from the divine union of water and earth and wind and word.

Whatever we call it, we have chosen to know evil, as well as good. And we have chosen to practice evil, as well as good. And by the time we get to the Gospel lesson from Mark, the people of God who are our biblical ancestors have indeed known evil of every kind and practiced evil of every kind. They have murdered and they have been murdered. They have raped, and they have been raped. They have enslaved, and they have enslaved others. They have begun wars, and they have been victims of wars. They have been thrown into exile, and they have thrown others into exile. And by the time we get to the Gospel lesson from Mark, they are crushed under Roman occupation that controls every part of their lives.

As far as they can tell the land of promise and plenty has devolved dangerously close to that formless void and chaotic turbulent deep water of chaos that God calmed in the beginning. And they want God to start over, to make things right again. So they gather at the river around a man named John, who proclaims a baptism of ritual purification in preparation for another new creation. And along comes Jesus. And the rest, as they say, is history.

But this history of the baptism of Jesus should be familiar to us. It flows from the same river of grace from the beginning of creation! With the same ruach of God—but we’re speaking Greek now, so it’s a pneuma—but it’s still the same Spirit of God swooping yet again over the face of the waters. And it’s the same Word of God speaking yet again through the chaos, saying, “This is my Beloved . . . my Son . . . in whom I am well pleased.” And God saw yet again that it was very, very good. And it was!

Which is what Jesus proclaimed throughout his ministry to anyone who would pay attention! You are all God’s Beloved children! So pay attention to what you are doing to one another! Pay attention! The new creation is at hand! I have passed through its waters and you can too! And it is GOOD NEWS! To whom? The poor! The captives! The blind! The oppressed! RIGHT HERE! RIGHT NOW!

Because this new creation springs forth from the font of an identity that has been with us all along! That we may all flourish in abundant life! That we may release our desire to know evil or experience evil or enact evil! That we may end once and for all the cycle of violence that claims our existence! And with the gift of our collectively transformed and renewed lives, we can end the cycle of violence that claims human existence! We can END it! Which is what we mean when we talk about a “baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

I used the New Century Translation for this part of our Gospel reading this morning because it gives a full meaning to the Greek word usually translated as “repentance.” So often we equate repentance with badness: I did wrong. I confess. I promise not to do it again. And this is certainly one way to understand that term. But the Greek work metanoia is about transformation! A new heart! A new mind! A new life! A new creation dawning from whatever chaos of deserted land or turbulent water would drive us to despair! And it is happening all the time!

A baptism of true repentance can be a powerful, powerful thing. A drug dealer can decide to turn his life around. An addict can seek help in recovery, and it happens right next door every day of the week! A child who has nothing can find a teacher who truly cares. And it happens right next door every day of the week! An abused spouse can leave a toxic relationship. An old cynic can learn to love. God can make a way out of no way. God can transform every part of our lives. Which is what God is doing with “all the people from Judea and Jerusalem” who are gathering at the Jordan for a baptism of repentance at the hand of John. They want God to “re-form” them as a new creation. And God does!

Of course the great debate in biblical and theological scholarship around this baptism story from the Gospel has been about why Jesus needs to be baptized. If he is truly without sin, scholars wonder, what was the point? But baptism is broader—both then and now—than the individual sins we commit and our need for forgiveness from them. Baptism is also about the sin committed against us and our need to be healed from it. And Jesus knows more than his fair share about that.

Jesus really did, in the end, “take on” the sin of the world, and not just as a priestly sacrifice on our behalf. He was betrayed, denied, despised, rejected, beaten, oppressed by an occupying power, spat upon, tortured, killed. Experiencing in his own flesh the absolute worst of what we call “man’s inhumanity to man.” I would go so far as to say that the baptism of Jesus in the river of grace that formed the font of his identity as about sealing him in the protection of who God had always created him to be. It’s a seal of protection. It’s our font of identity that can never be destroyed! It’s about trusting God to transform the sin that would be committed against him into a resurrection of hope and a promise of everlasting victory over sin and suffering and despair. I would go so far as to say that his baptism sustained him as he encountered the sin of the world, as he stared that sin down, as he felt abandoned, as he died.

And I say that our own baptism in the river of grace the flows from the beginning of time, to the end of time, and in every time in between does the same for each one of us. That it serves as a saving grace, a healing balm, a protective seal covering whatever wounds we bear in these bodies of earth and water and wind and word. Whether those wounds are “Self-Inflicted-Nonsense,” which is the root of so much SIN. Or whether they are deep scars inflicted by a creation that has delighted far too much in knowing evil rather than glorifying good.

And when we say that we are baptized into Christ’s resurrection in the fullness of time, what we mean is that one day we will be able to touch our wounds, just like Jesus did with the so-called “doubting” Thomas. But they won’t hurt anymore because the new creation will have finally dawned and the evil we have endured will be nothing but a distant memory in light of all the goodness of God’s glorious new creation. Because this truly is the font of our identity! From the beginning of time . . . to the end of time . . . and every time in between.

And so we come home every Sunday to this baptismal oasis of healing grace, where we prepare for worship with a pitcher of water and a stream flowing in generous abundance, splashing the gift of God’s grace with delight against the marbles that form the base of this baptismal font, settling us into the peace of healing and renewal and love that is ours each Sunday as we gather to worship our Creator and unite with the common creation that is our covenant community.

This is the Font of Our Identity, beloved children of God, in whom God is so well pleased. Welcome Home.

The Beginning and the End

2012-01-03T14:27:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Ecclesiastes 3:1-13
Revelation 21:1-6a

Whattime is it?

That isthe question that is always before us as people of faith. Today it is easy:January 1, 2012. “Happy New Year!” Of course, if the end-of-timers are correct,the fact that the Mayan calendar concludes with the year 2012 may mean thattoday marks the beginning of the end of the world as we know it. So . . .“Happy New Year!?”

(In theflippant response of the 1980s band “REM,” I feel just fine about that.)

We arejustified in rolling our eyes at such nonsense, even if we did shell out 20bucks for a box office ticket and a bag of popcorn to watch the pendingapocalypse unfold at a movie theater near you. And we are justified indismissing such talk of the 2012 “end of time” as so much attention-seeking orescapism or fear-mongering. And we are justified in repudiating theglorification of death and destruction that too often coincides with thedramatization of “the last days.”

But ifwe take the gospel seriously we are only justified to a point. Because thetruth is that the Christian hope in the coming kingdom of God, the Christianhope in that “end of time” when all of creation will come to ultimate andeverlasting perfect communion with God and one another, the Christian hope inthat “peaceable kingdom where the wolf shall dwell with the lamb and nationshall not rise up against nation and death and mourning and crying and painwill be no more” is, quite literally, the heart and soul of the ministry ofJesus.

“Thetime is fulfilled,” Jesus says, as he begins his preaching ministry in Mark’sGospel. “The kingdom of God has come near.” And then he proceeds to touch andteach and heal all he meets in the name of the kingdom that is at hand. And hedies for it when the coming presence of God’s kingdom threatens the currentreality of Caesar’s kingdom. Which means that we who follow in the footsteps ofJesus should take this “coming kingdom” business very, very seriously.

What wein modern American culture think weknow about the biblical basis for the coming kingdom of God at the end of timeactually comes from getting stuck in literalism halfway through the one book ofthe Bible (Revelation) that is so clearly presented with symbolic—and notliteral—imagery. We get so focused on which one of our current wars or naturaldisasters best fits the description of destruction in the middle chapters ofRevelation that we never get to the culminating vision of wholeness and hopethat was proclaimed in our New Testament reading this morning.

Butthat vision of wholeness and hope really is the entire point of the Revelation.In fact it is the entire point of biblical faith: that someway, somehow, Godwill find a way to dwell with us in eternal grace; that someway, somehow, Godis already doing this; that someway, somehow we have a small taste of thatcoming presence in the witness of Christ, whose birth we just celebrated oneweek ago today. And that someway, somehow our preparations to celebrate theanniversary of the first coming of Christ have been a chance to prepareourselves for what we call “The Second Coming of Christ.” Which is another wayof speaking about this vision of wholeness and hope that really is the point ofRevelation.

Again,I would urge us not to get caught up in a literalism that has always beenintended to be symbolic. We are talking about a vision here. We are talking about a future hope that cannot be putinto words and that, quite frankly, we cannot really understand. “As little aschildren know in their mother’s womb about their birth,” Martin Luther said,“so little do we know about life everlasting.”

And sowe call it “the kingdom of God” or “the Second Coming” or “the end of times” or“the heavenly banquet.” Or, as Martin Luther called it, “the life everlasting.”Each phrase a symbolic representation of our grasping for words to describesomething we can sense but cannot quite comprehend, something for which we longbut cannot quite possess.

And yetit is this hope in “life-everlasting” that permeates the Scriptures and thatgrounds our common life together in worship throughout the year. “To everythingthere is a season” says the preacher in Ecclesiastes, and the seasons of theChristian calendar are no different. Webegin with Advent, preparing for the coming of Christ, and move through theseason of Christmas in celebration of his coming. And yes, Christmas is a season and not just a Sunday, and we arestill in it! Right here, right now. In Epiphany, we see that Christ is for the world and not just for us, but then we moveinto contemplative and reflective season of Lent, reminding ourselves what wewho are far too human do to the coming kingdom of God. In Easter—another seasonand not just a Sunday—we celebrate the hope that God’s kingdom really canovercome all evil, and on Pentecost we usher in a whole new life in the Spiritthat is the life of the church in these past 2000+ years.

Eachseason of the Christian calendar offers God an opportunity to train our heartsand minds and bodies and spirits into the new creation in Christ we are invitedto become in the fullness of time. Each season has its ebb and its flow, itscontemplation and its action. And each season points to that time when we shalldwell in the house of God forever.

Overthe course of the recent season of Advent, for example, I spoke openly aboutthe place of Advent in our liturgical calendar as a time of preparing for this“Second Coming,” for this “end time,” for this “heavenly banquet” that is ourChristian hope. And I will say now that this 12-day period we currentlycelebrate between Christmas and Epiphany is, if we are living according to theseasons, a time for living as if the Second Coming has, in fact, come!

Imagine!What might it be like if, for just these few days in the beginning of 2012, wereally did live as if this were the end of the world as we know it, if wereally did live as if 2012 were the beginning of the new heaven and the newearth we have glimpsed in our vision from Revelation. Because this is, in fact,the “season” we are in.

Perhapsthis new reality in this new year might be something like what many of us haveseen in the YouTube videos of an 18-year old young man with a life-threateningheart condition chronicling his experiences of “cheating death” and thenspending the short remainder of his young life using those experiences to helphim dwell in the peace that passes all understanding. And sharing it withothers.

With acomforting smile and a serene presence in these videos, Ben Breedlove describesthe bright light and the deep sense of peace that accompanied three separateoccasions in his life when he almost died: the first when he was four, the lastjust a few weeks ago. “I couldn’t stop smiling,” he said, of all threeoccasions. “I wish I never woke up,” he claimed of his most recent experience.And his wish to rest in that bright light forever came true on Christmas Day whendeath finally claimed him and peace finally enveloped him, and the rest of us wereleft to marvel at his wisdom and insight and trust.

“Do youbelieve in Angels or God?” Ben Breedlove writes at the end of his last YouTubevideo. “I do,” he says. “I do.” And how could he not, given his experience ofpeace in the face of his mortality? And how could he not want to share thatpeace with anyone who would pay attention, through a YouTube video that hasspanned the globe and made national headlines. And how could we not respondwith reverence and hope and trust in return?

It istruly an “apocalyptic vision” that Ben Breedlove has shared with us: apocalypsemeaning “revelation,” apocalypse meaning a vision of reality that isever-present before us but that we need help seeing and experiencing andsharing with others. Apocalypse meaning a chance to wake up and live in thelight that shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot ever overcome it.Which is what the Book of Revelation is trying to get across. No matter what God is still with us. Inthis life and the next.

In thefullness of time, the beginning and the end turn out to be one and the same, andthis is the final point of our lesson from Revelation. “I am the Alpha andOmega,” Christ says, “the beginning and the end.” And the point of the peacethat passes understanding isn’t just about preparing us for our death, asbeautiful as that is. It’s about invigoratingour life! It’s about walking together on this planet with the promise thatthe communion of the saints is real and that everyone—and everything—weencounter lives in the light that can never be extinguished, the kind of lightthat leaves us smiling forever and full of a peace we don’t want to wake upfrom.

Howwould we treat each other if we really sawthis reality that is ever before us? If we really knew this with every part of our being? It truly would be the endof the world as we know it, with our wars and our greed and our suffering. Itwould, I dare say, be an excellent thing for 2012 to usher in the “end of time”with a peace that passes understanding.

We havea chance to practice that peace when we come to the table this morning, wherethe “Last Supper” Christ introduced to his disciples just before his deathbecomes the “first fruit” of the heavenly banquet we share in the fullness oftime. In fact, the whole point of the Sacrament is to give us a brief taste ofthe “perfect communion” that is coming, to live for one brief moment as if thekingdom really has already come. Because, in a very real sense, it has.

So cometo the table with the posture of one whose life of despair and destruction anddevastation is ending in 2012, whose new life is dawning with a bright lightand an overwhelming peace that will guide us and protect us and strengthen usin the days to come. However they begin. And however they end. In this new year,and in every precious year that is given to us on this earth.

I pray it may be so. Amen.

Over-Shadowed

2011-12-21T16:03:00.000-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Luke 1:26-55

God is my strength.

Maryknows this already. She would have learned this, recited this, sung this fromthe Psalms in her first century version of Sunday School, growing up inNazareth of Galilee. God is my refuge andmy strength, she would have prayed over and over again. A very present help in trouble. Therefore wewill not fear. No matter what, she would have prayed. And Mary would havefelt a sense of comforting trust that God was her strength, and your strength, andmy strength no matter what! Which isour promise in Advent as we prepare for the coming of Christ.

Butwhen Mary, who is engaged to Joseph—of the house of David—actually comes faceto face with the God she has prayed to for strength, when she physicallyencounters the power of God directed toward her in the first person dwelling ina messenger named Gabriel, when she hears that she has found favor with God andthat she will bear a son and that her son will rule an unending kingdom, Marystutters in the face of the God who is her strength. As most of us undoubtedlywould.

“Howcan this be?” she wants to know. I am not even married yet. What you are sayingdoes not make any sense.

And sheis right. And that is the point. The power of God doesn’t make sense. Especially when it is staring you right in theface.

And sothe strength of God, through the voice of Gabriel, cuts straight to the chase:“The Holy Spirit will come upon you,” Gabriel says, “and the power of the MostHigh will overshadow you. And nothing will be impossible with God.” Period.

ForMary, at least as the story is conveyed to us in Luke’s Gospel, this appears tobe enough. God says it; she believes it; and that settles it, as the bumpersticker says. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me accordingto your word.”

And therest, as they say, is history.

2000years later, Mary’s place in that history has been hotly debated. Is she,herself, worthy of worship? What is going on with her psychologically in thismoment of “Annunciation”? Is she really a “meek and mild gentle maiden,” as ouropening hymn suggests? Or does she instead speak a word of heartfelt challengein response to Gabriel’s announcement?

Sometheologians want to read Mary as being immediately obedient to God’s word,encouraging those of us who follow in her footsteps on this fourth Sunday inAdvent, 2011, to do the same. But others see Mary actively engaging thecreative power of God with a strength of her own, insisting that God invitesMary to “co-create” a new world order, as it were, and that this “co-creatingwith God” is our calling, as well as we prepare for the coming of Christ oncemore.

I, forexample, like to point out that the very name “Mary” just so happens to mean“rebellious.” I think the meaning of her name matters! And it is not beyond therealm of possibility that some measure of rebellion in Mary’s spirit may verywell have been encouraged by her first century Jewish community. And no, I’mnot talking about the bubble gum popping in church kind of rebellion. I’mtalking about the fact that Mary and her people faced the ongoing consequencesof the Roman occupation and exploitation of even her little town in Galilee.I’m talking about the yearning for justice and freedom that would very likelyhave been nurtured in her spirit from the time she was a young child. And thisyearning would have been prevalent all around Mary as her people sought thestrength of God in resisting the power of Rome.

I’mtalking about the kind of yearning, rebellious, revolutionary spirit that wouldurge Mary to joyfully embrace the power of God gestating within her that will“scatter the proud, bring down the powerful, and lift up the lowly in order tofill the hungry with good things,” which are the flat-out revolutionary wordsof the Magnificat that Mary sings with Elizabeth once her role in the birth ofChrist has been announced. In fact, the power of God gestating within Mary soinfuses her with the awesome and righteous strength of the Holy Spirit that sheis able to proclaim that the revolution of God’s justice and peace has already occurred—in the past tense—becauseit has already occurred within her veryself!

Thisis, as far as I can tell, the whole point of the incarnation, for Mary and forus: God’s power is already with us,blessing us, strengthening us, uplifting us, redeeming us, even when we can’tquite make sense of it. God’s power is even within us, scattering whatever in us that is proud or powerful in theways of domination and opening us up to the pride and power that is the way ofGod. Whether we are, by nature, “meek and mild gentle maidens” gratefullyreceiving the gift of God’s grace without question or rebellious radicalrevolutionaries for justice and peace. Or perhaps a little bit of both.

Thetrue promise of this fourth Sunday of Advent is that Mary allows this power ofthe God who is already herstrength to be more than a helping hand through the journey of her life. Whenthe invitation comes, she allows this power of God to transform every part of her life beyond recognition! Marywelcomes the power of God into her very body in order to bring about thesalvation of the world. She says “yes” to this power that makes no sense andnever will. She commits to a future she cannot yet see but believes is goodnews. She takes the time to let God’s presence grow within her those nine longmonths. And she trusts God to strengthen her, whatever happens next. And thatis what the life of faith is about, then and now. Total, utter, life-changingtransformation through the power of the Holy Spirit.

And thereally good news is that when “thepower of the Most High overshadows” Mary, as the angel Gabriel says it will, whatis actually going on is that God’s strength is enveloping Mary in a divine sealof protection as every part of her life is transformed by God’s power, throughouther scandalous pregnancy and the tumultuous life of the child she loves somuch. What is really happening when “the power of the Most High overshadows” Maryis that God wraps her up in God’s own power, just like we wrap ourselves up inthe baby blanket crocheted by our grandmothers or the prayer shawl knitted byour deacons. And the kingdom of heaven that God wants to birth through us isprotected and strengthened and nourished and supported.

Now that is something to celebrate, as weopen our own hearts and minds and even bodies to the ways Christ is bornthrough us in this new year. Because this “kingdom without end” ushered in atChrist’s birth asks every one of us to labor for justice and peace in ourtime—just as Mary did in her time—and that is one dangerous mission, to besure. But the power of God protects we who birth this present reality. Thepower of God envelops us, casts shade upon us, and yes, even overshadows us as we welcome the Princeof Peace once more.

And forthat powerful presence, for that strength of our God that will never fail us—ever!—maywe joyfully join our sister Mary in responding, “Here am I, the servant of God;let it be with me according to your word.”

I prayit may be so.

Amen.

Comfort, Texas

2011-12-04T14:21:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Isaiah 40: 1-11

Mark 1: 1-3

“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God,” according to Mark’s Gospel, sounds quite a bit like the words of comfort coming to us from Isaiah in the Old Testament lesson that is also before us this morning. Words that begin with, “Comfort, o comfort my people.”

If we were paying close attention to Isaiah last week, in the first Sunday of Advent, we did not hear these words of comfort. We heard words of a sense that all is not well with the world and that we really do need a savior. And perhaps it left us a little bit on edge, wondering where our hope might come from in this Advent season that is our preparation for Christmas.

Well here is that hope, right here, right now, in this follow-up word from the prophet. Because the good news of our journey through the season of Advent is that Isaiah’s proclamation of judgment is followed immediately by comfort! In fact, for Isaiah the whole point of God calling the people to repentance in the first place is because God wants to forgive and restore and renew. To make whole. And the good news of our ongoing journey through the season of Advent is that the last word on Christmas—the eschaton, as we have been discussing in our adult education class—the last word forever from our steadfastly loving God is always, and finally, grace.

You see the people to whom Isaiah speaks, both this week and last week, have just plain suffered too much. The entire city of Jerusalem has been decimated by the Babylonian empire, the great Temple of Solomon destroyed, and the people have been taken into captivity—into exile—away from everything they know and love, wondering if their God even exists anymore.

In the world of ancient Israel at the time of Isaiah’s preaching, the people believe that something of the literal, physical, essence of the God they worship resides in the temple that is built to honor God. The kabod of God, they call this literal, physical essence of God in Hebrew. Translated into English as the glory of God. So every time you hear the phrase “glory of God” or “glory of the Lord” consider that this is referring to the literal or physical manifestation of God on earth.

We in the Christian tradition understand the glory of God to be seen in the incarnation. It is what we celebrate on Christmas Day. But the people of ancient Israel believed the glory of God resided in the Jerusalem temple. And by the time we get to this lesson from Isaiah the Jerusalem temple has been destroyed. And so the people literally wonder if God exists anymore.

They are ready to receive a word of comfort. And so God—who most emphatically does still exist!—and does not need a temple or a church, or even a preacher, for that matter, in the mighty yet intimate voice that belongs uniquely to our steadfastly loving God, calls forth a divine council in the heavens and invites the prophet Isaiah to listen in. And says, “It is time to comfort my people.” It is time.

A voice from the divine council rallies the troops. “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God,” the voice directs. Roll out a path of safety and security through the danger of the desert. A path that will always lead the people back to their spiritual home. And another voice confirms: somewhere along that path of safety and security and comfort the “glory of God,” the kabod of God, the physical presence of God in our midst will be revealed! And all people will see it together.

And another voice concludes: God, herself, will be leading the flock of God’s people along this path of safety and security through the danger of the desert, like a shepherd carrying the lambs of God close to her heart, gently leading the mother sheep” through this desert highway to land of comfort and healing and wholeness and hope.

This is what our Advent journey is all about, especially on this second Sunday of Advent here at Madison Square. We who gathered here last night in a service to comfort families of the victims of violent crime bore witness to the glory of God revealed right here in our midst in this our spiritual home. The same aisle your elders and deacons will follow to the table of sustenance that is our communion today became for those families the path of safety and security, foretold by Isaiah, through their desert of despair and grief. One lamb of God after another brought forward an angel of hope representing the spirit of the one they had loved so deeply.

They stood at the microphone, which had been moved beside the table, and they spoke the name of the one they had loved. And in speaking that name, they called forth the glory of the God who knows each us by name, just like we know the ones we love by name. And they called forth the glory of the God who also had a name at his birth that is coming so soon. And they called forth the glory of the God who relates to us in all the ways the one they loved had related to them: as mother, father, son or daughter, sister, brother, friend.

And they made their way by ones and twos and entire extended families to the tree that has been so beautifully and lovingly placed in our midst. And they hung their angel on the tree, gracing us with the glory of God through these angels on this second Sunday of Advent. And the God who is our shepherd led them with tender grace along this path of safety and security and wholeness and hope just as God leads each one of us along this path, holding us close to her heart, gently leading the mother sheep and the grandfather sheep and the brother and sister and best friend sheep, as we hold the ones we love close to our hearts, trusting always in the light that does still shine in the darkness. And the darkness cannot ever overcome it.

Comfort, oh comfort my people, God says to the divine council, with the same heart of the mother and the grandfather and the best friend seeking solace. Comfort my people, God says to us, who gather in this sanctuary of hope on this second Sunday of Advent. I know what it is to be one of you, God says to us, in this joyful feast that is our communion today. And I want you to be well!

And so I am calling you, God says, down this path of healing and wholeness and hope through whatever desert would diminish your spirit. I am calling you home to this table of grace. I am feeding you with my very own presence. And I am sending you forth to do the same for all you meet. Because the one comforting path of God’s presence in our lives must always follow two different directions: the first one inward to this table of grace, and the second one outward to a world that is hungry for hope. We are not comforted here, in the end, for ourselves alone, but in order that we might, in turn, comfort God’s people in the world beyond these walls.

This is the promise of our second Sunday of Advent, as we gather at the table of Christ for our resurrection meal. I pray it may be so. Amen.

I've Seen Fire and I've Seen Rain

2011-11-29T18:14:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Isaiah 64: 1-9
Mark 13: 24-37

“Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and let these gifts to us beblessed. Amen.”

This is the prayer that has graced the Newquist family tableever since I can remember. It is a prayer that apparently goes back generations,having actually originated on another continent in another language in anothertime. It is a prayer that, if we pay close attention, speaks to the deepestlongings of all our hearts every time we gather as one human family at onetable or another across time and space. At the Thanksgiving table. At thecommunion table:

“Come, Lord Jesus,” we pray. Come.

In my family, of course, we were eager to eat the meat! WhenI was growing up the blessing was but one more parental-imposed barrier betweenour over-eager taste buds and the stacks of complex carbohydrates and essentialamino acids that would fuel our active minds and adolescent bodies. My threebrothers and yours truly would race through the blessing as fast as we could,combining words that were never meant to be compounded, cascading ever morerapidly toward the punchline ‘Amen!’ that would finally give us permission todig in.

It sounded something like this:Comlojesubeoguesnlethegiftusbestahhhhhhmen!

(Let’s just say we were not all that reverent when it cameto stuffing our faces.)

As you know, I went back home for Thanksgiving this year. Allfour siblings back at the same table with spouses and offspring and Grandmastopping in for good measure. As we sat down Monday night for what would be ourfirst meal of the week, I reverted to childhood. The fastest blessing on recordcame out of my mouth.

My family was not amused.

“Okaaaaaaay?” my sister-in-law wondered, looking around foran explanation to this mutiny. “What was that about?” my brotherdemanded, completely forgetting that he had originated this race.

The times had apparently changed. Not a single one of themdove for the comfort-food spread lavishly before us. The “blessing” that hadonce been a burden had become one of the most treasured parts of their meal.

“You ruined it,” my Dad sighed, shaking his head. And he wasright. I had ruined the blessing of our family meal the same way most of usruin Advent.

The season of Advent, beginning today, is, you might say, thegrace before the feast of Christmas. Advent is a churchwide chance to gatherwith our human family and prepare for Christ’s coming. Which is, I would argue,altogether different than preparing for Christmas, at least given whatChristmas has become in our culture. Advent may be even more important than theChristmas meal, itself. Or at least it can remind us—like a blessing beforemealtime—why Christmas is so very special.

What might happen if we decide not to race throughthe season of Advent like four teenagers on a fast-track to the Christmasdinner splurge? If we took the time to pray our way through this blessed seasonof Advent slowly and intentionally, opening our hearts and minds and spirits toreceive Christ as our guest, asking for God’s blessing on our gifts—both greatand small?

Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let these gifts to usbe blessed. Amen.

If we slow down enough to pay attention to the blessing thatis this season of Advent, we may very well hear ourselves reciting a prayer forall time, and not just our time: “O that you would tear open the heavens and comedown!” we might hear ourselves clamoring in this season, with thesame spirit of longing as the prayer from the prophet Isaiah that is our OldTestament lesson for today. “We are all your people,” we might hear ourhuman family crying out, if we slow down enough to pay attention, as Isaiahheard his human family crying out when God seemed hidden from them.

If we slow down enough to pay attention to the blessing thatis this season of Advent, we may very well, like Isaiah, hear the cries of peoplewe don’t even know. Or even more challenging, people we do know but don’t like.Or even more challenging, people we do know don’t like us. And wemight actually start to listen to them, and learn from them, and maybe evencome to sit beside them at the feast that is to come.

Because if we slow down long enough to pay attention to theblessing that is Advent, we may very well be forced to acknowledge howdesperate we truly are—every one of us—for a savior. Right here, right now, andnot just two thousand years ago. Because the hard truth of this Advent blessingis that neither Isaiah in the Old Testament lesson nor Jesus in the Gospel ofMark promises cheap grace or easy comfort as we rush to the fulfillment ofGod’s promises of peace. “We have all become like one who is unclean,” Isaiahconfesses on our behalf, “and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth.”“For nation will rise against nation,” Jesus warns, “there will be earthquakesin various places; there will be famines.”

How’s that for Christmas holiday joy? How’s that fora family time of prayer before the big meal of the season?

But they are right. Perhaps the reason we race through theblessing of the season of Advent is that it just may spoil our appetite toacknowledge the complete and utter mess we have made of this world God hasgiven us. And yes, I mean “we.” Because the biblical tradition does not let usoff the hook as individuals who say we don’t agree with the failings of ourinstitutions. The biblical tradition holds every one of us accountable for thecommon failings of the human race.

Our fractured economy, for example, where regardless of whatwe think about the Occupy Wall Street Movement, the truth really is that incomeinequality is greater than it has been since the eve of the Great Depression, evenas one country after another and one state after another and one municipalityafter another defaults on its promises to the past and to the future.And our fractured government, for example, where superb dysfunction is all thatseems to come from the super committee of the moment and superb silence toooften resonates throughout the churches on the pressing issues of our time aswe in the pulpit rush to the Christmas comfort of your affliction, instead ofafflicting your comfort in the blessing of the season of Advent.

If we slow down enough to pay attention, we may very well hearourselves grumbling, like the prophet Isaiah, that God has “delivered us intothe hand of our iniquity.” And that may make us very, very uncomfortable at theexact moment we are seeking God’s comfort. And this is, I must tell you, as itshould be. Because if we are more concerned in the season of Advent about feelinggood than we are about being good, then we have missed the whole pointof the coming of Christ. Repentance is required for Christ to come again.

The blessing of Advent does feel like a burden, I amafraid . . . unless it reminds us how desperate we really are for a savior. Wereally are pleading with God in Advent to bring forth that time and place wherepain and suffering will be no more, and no more shall the sound of weeping beheard, and God’s reign of justice and peace will lead the wolf to dwell withthe lamb. We really are holding out in hope in Advent with these fewwords—“Come, Lord Jesus”—the promise of that heavenly banquet we all will sharewith a wounded yet resurrected Christ at the end of time. The “coming of theSon of Man” Jesus calls it in Mark’s Gospel lesson for today. The “eschaton,”as we have been discussing in our adult education class.

We who are moderate to progressive Presbyterians do notgenerally speak of preparing for the Second Coming, which is what this Adventblessing really is all about. Often, given our intellectualism or our desire tomove beyond a fear-based religious upbringing or the simple fact that Jesussaid in Mark’s Gospel Lesson for today that it would happen in his generationand it clearly did not—at least not the way we think it should—we are notnecessarily sure we want to believe it. Or we leave it to the Left Behindmovement or simply dismiss the whole notion as irrelevant to the moment we arein.

But the prophet Isaiah holds God to account for God’spromise of steadfast love and loyalty through the end of time, and we whofollow Christ in our time and place are no less faithful when we do the same. Wesinned because you were angry, Isaiah is bold enough to declare to God.“Because you hid yourself we transgressed,” Isaiah says. If we couldjust see you, he seems to be declaring, we would get our act together. If youwould just shape us who are clay into a beautiful and useful creation, Isaiahpleads—like a potter at the wheel—we will become your new creation, we will sitat the table with our friends and our enemies in the coming kingdom ofChrist’s glory, and we will find a way to make sure the table is open to all. Youhave worked this wonder in the past, Isaiah says. “Come, Lord Jesus,” we pray.“We thought we’d see you again.”

“But about that day or hour no one knows,” Jesus concludesin the Gospel of Mark. It is like God has gone on a journey and left us—God’sservants—with God’s work to do, and asked a doorkeeper to be on the watch. Sowe gather at the table with passionate patience in a perpetual season of Advent,holding hands and praying, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come.”

And in the meantime, we get to work. Because we areChrist’s body, here in the church, right here, right now, and God has given usa job while we wait. “Can You Help?” the front cover of today’s “Giving Issue”of Parade Magazine asks. And it features 10 organizations that arelending a helping hand across the nation. And if you want to “think globallybut act locally,” may I point right next door to the Child Development Center, where your extradonation could go a long way toward ensuring the stability of a program thatserves so many who have few other places to go? Or if extra dollars are hard tocome by right now, how about just asking someone you don’t know—or better yetsomeone you do know but have a hard time liking—to sit down to dinner with you. . . and hear their prayer for Christ to come mingled with your own . .. and watch the kingdom unfold right before your eyes.

Because in a very real sense Christ is already here, as wesit at the table. The meal is already before us, as we pray for God’s blessingin preparation for the feast. And this watching and waiting is but a preludefor the joy to come, if we just take the time to pay attention.

I pray it may be so. Amen.

You Have What is Yours

2011-11-15T11:25:00.001-06:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Matthew 25:14-30

Two years ago, when I was serving a church in Tucson, I had the privilege of joining a group ofteenagers and their adult advisors on a mission trip to Agua Prieta, Mexico,just across the border from Douglass, Arizona. We were participating inone of our Presbyterian Border Ministry partnerships called “Frontera deCristo,” which offers assistance in church development, health ministries, andmigrant resources for both sides of the U.S./Mexico border.

Our very first day was a Sunday, so we visited Lily of theValley Presbyterian Church in Agua Prieta. The service was, of course, inSpanish, so we strained our ears to understand what was going on. Butworshiping God is, in a sense, a universal language, so we found ourselvessettling into the rhythm of the sanctuary quite nicely after just a fewmoments.

Then came the time came in the worship service to receivethe morning offering. Here at Madison Square, we pass a plate down the pewwhile the choir blows our socks off with whatever musical arrangement PaulHughes has cooked up for us this week. And it is amazing! But nobody sees whatwe give—or if we give—and we don’t really talk about money very much, andit is all very private, as issues relating to money usually are in politesociety on this side of the border.

But at the Lily of the Valley Church, the offering time is areally big deal. In fact, it’s almost as if the entire service culminates atthis point. The band—with drums and guitars and crashing cymbals—leads the entirecongregation in singing, and they come forward in plain view to place theiroffering in plates that are placed on the communion table. We, who weresupposedly ‘rich’ Americans, wanted the congregation to see that we would giveour part, too. But as we stood up to put our dollar in the plate, our hosturged us to sit back down.

There are two different processions that come forward to thefront of the sanctuary at the time of offering, he said. In the first, it isonly the official members of the congregation that come forward. When you joinLily of the Valley Presbyterian Church, you commit to offering ten percent ofwhatever income you have earned every week. It is a condition of membership tooffer a tithe, he told us.

Wait until the second procession, he said. That is when anyonewho wishes to give an additional offering—or participants in worship who arenot official members of the congregation—come forward to present their gifts.Two processions—one to tithe, one to make an offering of love, both tocelebrate the goodness of a God who has offered us abundant life, who hascommanded us to share that abundant life with everyone.

Three days later, we learned that part of our mission tripexperience would be to try to figure out how to live on a maquila salary for 36hours. We were reminded that this salary was about the same as what our tithingChristian sisters and brothers at Lily of the Valley Church received. So we,who had been asked to figure out how to live on a basic salary similar to what ourChristian sisters and brothers working at one of these factories would have,huddled over a budget worksheet to discuss our most important budgetpriorities: Food, of course. Shelter, definitely. We figured we had enoughclothing for 36 hours so we let that basic necessity go unbudgeted. Buttithing. That was on the list of possible budget items. What would we do abouttithing?

It was a concept that was new to our youth, so I explained thatin biblical tradition, when the Israelites lived in an agricultural economy,they were commanded to return the first tenth of their crops to the service ofGod. This “tithe”—meaning 10 percent—provided an income for the temple priestswho had committed their lives to serve the people. The tithe also provided apool of resources to care for those who did not have enough to cover theirbasic needs.

It is not so different from the pledges we make to ourcongregation. Some of us give ten percent, right off the top. Others of us givea different percentage every year. Others of us give a particular amount thatreflects our prayerful response to the generosity of God. Through the practiceof giving back—whatever amount it might be—we, like the ancient Israelites,remember that everything we have produced through the sweat of our own laboris, in fact, a gift from God, even if we worked hard to earn it. And throughthe practice of giving back, we, like the ancient Israelites, share the fruitsof our labor with those whose labor simply has not provided sufficiently fortheir needs, even if they have worked just as hard as those who have more.

So there we were, four American teenagers and three Americanadults living on a Mexican maquila salary for 36 hours trying to decide whetheror not to tithe. We did not think our maquila salary was very large. We had alreadydecided that we could not afford to set aside any money for medicalemergencies. And with four growing teenagers among us, we really, really,really wanted to have enough to eat!

So . . . would we tithe?

Well, it just so happens that one of the adult leaders and Iare committed tithers, and we both spoke passionately in favor of the practice.The other leader spoke of how her experience of tithing is an expression of hergratitude for having a job and her discipline of trusting that God will provide,even when times are difficult, just as God provided for the Israeliteswandering in the wilderness on their way to a land of milk and honey. I spokeabout how the practice of tithing had given me the courage and dignity toreceive help from others when I needed it, knowing that God was using the giftsof others to care for me in my time of need, just as God had used my gifts tocare for others in their time of need.

We convinced our teenagers to tithe in Agua Prieta on thatmission trip. Some of us agreed reluctantly, others of us agreed passionately.But in the end, we tithed. And then we got sick. We had set aside money for thechurch, we had set aside money for food, we had set aside money for housing,but we had not set aside money for healthcare. And we got sick.

Guess who helped us? Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church.The place we had just sent our tithe.

Our pastors took us to the doctor, and we got the medicinewe needed. Our church family made us chicken soup—a cross cultural health care systemfor sure. Our leaders adapted the schedule for us, so we could rest. And we gotbetter. And now it is all a distant memory.

But we tithed. On a maquila salary, we gave thanks and wegave back. And I would submit to you that the experience of giving to thechurch in that 36 hour period really did change our lives, spiritually,emotionally, physically. We gave back as a reminder that everything we havereceived comes from God. And we gave back as a reminder that God has askedus—no, God has commanded us—to share what we have with others. And wegave back as a reminder that we might someday need help ourselves. And that,too, is a gift from God.

On this Stewardship Sunday, at Madison Square PresbyterianChurch, God has invited us all to gather in the spirit of those four teenagersand three adults in Agua Prieta making decisions about our budget and what wethink we can afford. Food, of course. Shelter, no doubt, Clothing down theroad. Health care, we pray. But giving back to God . . . perhaps we really canafford it. Perhaps, in this economy, when more and more people are coming to usfor help, we can’t afford not to.

God really has provided for everything we need, just as Godprovided for the Israelites wandering in the desert . . . just as God providedfor the first century Judeans in the time of Jesus . . . just as God providesfor 21^st century Christians—and people of all faiths—across anyborder in any part of the world during any economic cycle. And our job is tosay thank you . . . and to share. May it be so among us today. Amen.

On Being Presbyterian

2011-10-31T19:42:00.002-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Matthew 23: 1-12

It is Reformation Sunday—the last Sunday in October—an occasion offered to us every year in our church calendar to take special time in our worship and preaching to remember our heritage as Presbyterians and consider what pieces of our heritage maintain a lasting relevance in our current era.

We are, after all, a denomination that claims its origins in the Protestant Reformation of sixteenth century Europe. We are a denomination whose roots are in resisting what our forbears believed to be the corrupted power and influence of a class of clergy that separated themselves from the people. A denomination whose roots are in recovering the original source of the teachings of Jesus and stripping away the trappings of cultural excess that co-opt the gospel for its own purposes. A denomination whose roots are in the radical truth that God’s grace alone is all we can ever depend on, that God alone is all we can ever depend on, that God alone is the lord of our conscience.

We are, in fact, a denomination whose roots are in the teaching of Matthew’s Gospel lesson for us today. Don’t be like the Pharisees, Jesus tells his disciplies and the crowds surrounding them. Yes, they “sit on Moses’ seat,” and they are good and qualified teachers of the tradition. You should listen to what they say. But “they tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others.” They turn the gift of Sabbath, the gift of the community, the gift of releasing one’s burdens through public rituals into even greater burdens, when they are supposed to be blessings. Even worse, the Pharisees have given themselves over to the perks of their position, propping up their image instead of truly caring for the needs of the people. Every one of these being a fault that the sixteenth century Reformers saw mirrored in the Roman clergy they found themselves resisting. And because those reformers took the gospel lesson seriously, here we are five hundred years later with an entirely new denomination on a new continent with a rich legacy of our own to resist and reclaim.

Part of our rich legacy as a denomination lies in the enormous role Presbyterians played in the early formation of this country that is our home. The United States Constitution, for example—and the general principle of representative democracy, where power is shared and no one person has ultimate authority—is directly related to the Presbyterian form of government. Presbyterians, by and large, supported the American Revolution, as well. A large number of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were Presbyterian. John Witherspoon, the only member of the clergy who signed the Declaration, was a Presbyterian minister.

And just to give us some perspective on the more contemporary influence of Presbyterianism in our common life, I offer you the following sample of noted Presbyterians: Fred Rogers, of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was a Presbyterian minister; Mark Twain was a Presbyterian; David Brinkely was a Presbyterian; Sally Ride grew up Presbyterian (and her sister is an ordained minister in California); Presidents Dwight Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan, as well as Vice President Walter Mondale were all Presbyterian; and just to put things in really important perspective Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, and Shirley Temple were Presbyterian, too. How could we ever have gotten along without these Presbyterians! Surely we are part of a rich, long legacy of faithful people who lived good and decent lives and made a significant contribution to the world at large. Life as we know it would not exist without the Presbyterian tradition. We have every right to hold some small measure of pride in the rich heritage that is ours to claim today.

But while there are many lifelong Presbyterians among us who may already be well aware of our heritage and our famous sisters and brothers in the faith, many of us united with a congregation of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in our adulthood, including yours truly. It used to be that when people of one denomination moved to another town or state, they would look up the nearest church in that denomination and transfer their membership there. This is no longer the case. Some of us intentionally align with the values and teachings and history (and perhaps even the famous people) of our particular denomination, but most of us simply stumble upon a church that we like, or a pastor we like, or a music program we like, and take on the Presbyterian label as just one more piece of the package. Am I right?

In fact, most sociologists who study American religion in its current trajectory are warning those of us who cling tightly to a particular denominational heritage that we are out of step with the majority of our parishioners and with the population at large. American religion has entered a new era of “post-denominationalism,” these scholars say, where most of us hop from one denomination to another—or even from one distinct religious tradition to another—depending on our particular needs at particular moments of our lives, and depending on what options are available in a new location for a highly transient population.

And all of this is just fine, in my opinion. Because the very Gospel Lesson that the 16th Century Reformers used to justify their resistance to Roman rule warns all of us who follow in their footsteps of the dangers of placing too much authority in any human institution—or any human being representing that institution—including, and perhaps especially, our own.

The Pharisees, after all, are not such a different group of people from modern day Presbyterians. They, like all Jews living under Roman occupation in first century Judea, are trying to figure out how to be faithful to the tradition of their ancestors while at the same time resisting the occupation of the Roman empire. At least one first century historian—by the name of Josephus—describes the Pharisees as a group that lives simply and protects what is worth fighting for, as people who “love one another and practice consensus in their community.” And they have—by far—the most popular support among first century Judeans.

The Sadducees, on the other hand, as priestly aristocrats who are caught up in Temple sacrifices, are perceived by the people to be overly friendly with Rome. The Essenes, who live in austere, celibate community in the desert of Qumran, are perceived by the people to be escapists. The Zealots, who seek to overthrow Rome with military might and have already provoked a violent retaliation, are perceived by the people to be far too dangerous.

We, who are twenty-first century American Christians know the Pharisees predominantly as the legalistic opponents of Jesus. The Protestant Reformers of 16th century Europe know the Pharisees as the prototype of all that is wrong with the religion they are seeking to reform. But in comparison with the other sects of first century Judaism, the Pharisees are not really so bad. In fact, they are good. They are really, really good. They are the scholars and the teachers—and, I might add, the preachers!—who have taken on the job of educating the masses regarding the best ways to adapt Mosaic Law to their entire lives. The Pharisees, by and large, believe the best way to be delivered from Rome is to live as faithfully as possible in accordance with the Law of Moses. And they believe God has commissioned them, by and large, to instruct others into the same fidelity.

Some might say this is a good working job description for a twenty-first century Christian pastor, the “teaching elder,” as the new Presbyterian Form of Government calls us. We are supposed to “be committed to teaching the faith and equipping the saints for the work of ministry . . . so that they people are shaped by the pattern of the gospel and strengthened for witness and service.” Concerned about, as our tradition calls it, “rightly preaching the Word and rightly administering the Sacraments.” Concerned about offering the people a chance to relinquish their burdens of sin and oppression and receiving the grace of God in response. Concerned with cultivating a community that is well-educated about the tradition and its modern-day application to our lives. We are . . . I can’t believe it . . . supposed to be Pharisees! What would the Reformers say?!

How about something like this?

On this Reformation Sunday—which can far too easily succumb to a state of “Presbyterian Pride”—the message is fairly straightforward: don’t do it! Just don’t do it. And the reason is this: the tradition, in the end, is not about you. It’s not about your country. It’s not about your movies and your television shows. It’s about God! And God is doing amazing things in your life and in the world, and we in the church want to be part of it. Plain and simple. Nothing else matters.

Many of us who land in this particular congregation at Madison Square have a story to tell about the Pharisees from whom we are fleeing, of the “church hurt” that has led us to a new home. But really, in the end, every one of us fits the description of the Pharisees in Matthew’s Gospel. Those who crave public approval, who fails to practice what we preach, who think we are passing on a blessing when in fact it can become a curse. Presbyterian ministers just as much as everyone else, and in fact sometimes more. That is the nature of religious institutions, and we are just plain stuck with it. When I was a senior in college lamenting this reality to my grandmother, she shared her own struggles with this truth. Yes, “the church wants to put chains on my soul,” she told me she had felt throughout her life. “But,” she said, “I don’t have to let it.” And neither do we.

The good news of the gospel really is this: God’s grace works through even us, even these inadequate, far too human, far too “Pharisaic” institutions, to bless the entire world. Even through you. Even through me. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to do anything. It’s simply here . . . ready, in this font of identity, in this table of sustenance, in this book of memory and promise, any time you want to come home. So welcome home.

This is what it means to be Presbyterian, after all. That God has welcomed you home, just the way you are. Not asking for fancy dress or public displays of piety. Just as you are. Whether you are John Wayne or our newest member to be received by the session after worship today or anyone else in between.

So I invite you in these next few moments of worship simply to rest in the goodness of who God is, and who God created you to be, and who God created this church to be. Knowing that God’s grace is sufficient to carry you through whatever burdens you bear and whatever burdens our tradition may unfairly place upon you. Trusting that Christ’s burden is easy and Christ’s yoke is light. And that the one God who claims us all is always leading us home.

I pray it may be so. Amen.

The Bible Tells Me So

2011-10-24T10:49:00.003-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Deuteronomy 6:4-7

Leviticus 19:18

Matthew 22:34-30

Shema Yisrael, Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai Echad. Everyday observant Jews across the globe chant this Scripture from Deuteronomy 6:5. Twicedaily, in fact. It is called, as is traditional in Jewish custom, by the firstword of the sentence as it is written in the Hebrew language: “Shema,”which means “to hear.” Observant Jews across the globe teach thisScripture to their children from generation to generation. They say it togetheras a bedtime prayer, reciting regularly what is—for all of us—the greatest command,which I translate from the Hebrew in the following manner:

Listen! Pay Attention! You are the people with whom Godhas chosen to persevere!

Don’t ever forget how special you are. Don’t ever forget thegreat lengths God has gone to in order to claim you as God’s own. Don’t everforget that God is with you, always, even until the end of the age.

The Holy One is your God. The Holy One alone.

Meaning that the unnamable, unpronounceable, invisible Godwho created you from the waters of chaos, and redeemed you through the watersof the Red Sea, and sustains you through thewaters of the mikvah (the ritual baths of purification) or the baptismalfont is all that matters, ever! No matter what lesser god would demand your allegiance.No matter what lesser god would claim your very life. So, in response, youshall:

love the Holy One your God with all your heart and allyour soul and all your strength.

And there is nothing you can do that is moreimportant than this!

Now let’s be honest. How many of us walk around with aworking knowledge of Deuteronomy fresh on our minds? Not many. We who areChristian have inherited an unfortunate Pauline distaste for the Law of Moses.We write off the so-called “God of the Old Testament” as vengeful and violentand vindictive. We even go so far as to mistake the origin of this “GreatCommandment”—the Shema—with Jesus, himself. For we who are Christians,the command to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind comes directly fromChrist in the Gospel Lesson from Matthew that is before us today, in responseto a testing from the Pharisees, on the last Tuesday of his earthly existence, ina Temple showdown over the heart and soul of what it means to be faithful inthe midst of empire.

But the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Herodians, thedisciples, literally everyone around Jesus in first century Judea—includingJesus, himself—would have chanted this beautiful Scripture from Deuteronomy—fromthe Law of Moses we too regularly disdain—every day of his or her life, fromthe time of childhood to the present moment. First century Judeans would haveexperienced the Shema as a deep wisdom dating all the way back from theExodus, shaping their people through good times and bad for over a thousandyears (depending on when you date the Exodus).

And they would have been taught over and over from ourLeviticus reading not to exact vengeance against those who have wrongedthem, but “to love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus is not instituting a newgreat commandment in this text from Matthew. He is simply reminding thePharisees what they should already know: that the whole point of the Bible asthey know it—the Old Testament—is to teach them how to love God and neighbor. AndI would say the whole point of the Bible as we know it, is the samething. It is not just a book of memory that tells us what people long agothought about God. It is a present-day book of hope, holding forth thepossibility that someway, somehow, if we just repeat these words long enough, maybesomeday we will get them right.

Shema Yisrael, Jesus would have chanted over and overand over again throughout his life, as the core teaching of his own sacredScriptures. Adonai Elohaynu, Adonai Echad. And the meaning of that chantwould have seeped into the very fiber of his being, granting him a deep reservoirof courage to remind him who he really was—and to whom he really belonged—nomatter what he will face from the chief priests and the Roman guards just a fewdays after the exchange with the Pharisees that is our Gospel lesson for today.The Shema would have kept Jesus grounded in the love of God for betterand for worse throughout the entire ordeal that is to come.

The point I am trying to make here is that the words we sayin worship, the songs and prayers we teach our children, the symbols andSacraments we point to as often as we can, it all really matters!According to scholars who study the impact of ritual on the human psyche, weliterally form a “ritual body” in our life together on Sunday mornings. We literallyform neurological pathways through our brains that shape our consciousness andtrain our reflex reactions in moments of stress. Our rituals become integratedinto the very fabric of our lives beyond conscious thought. And so we whoperform these rituals must be very, very careful in how we enact them, as youare in your presentation of God’s gifts.

For Christians, our rituals focus on gathering around abaptismal font and a communion table and a pulpit and lectern from which weremember the ways in which God has spoken to God’s people throughout the agesand trust God to speak to us again today. And then here, at Madison Square, we also say, “Welcomehome.” And I don’t have to tell you how much these rituals really matter, do I?

Esta es la fuente de identidad we say every Sunday, overand over, and we make sure our children are present in worship to hear thesewords. This is the font of identity, we say. And the sound of watersplashing among these stones seeps into the cultural lining of our minds, andthe assurance of God’s grace that comes along with it. To the point thatwhenever we hear splashing water, whenever we touch this miracle of life thatforms ¾ of our bodies and ¾ of the earth’s body, whenever we taste the sweetblessing of water on our lips, whenever we bathe, whenever we swim, evenwhenever we cry we have the chance to float again in the font of our identity, toremember our baptism, to glimpse for one brief moment the grace of the God whohas claimed us from the beginning of creation . . . and will not ever . . .ever . . . ever . . . let us go!

The waters of baptism are, I would suggest, the Christianversion of the Shema. Because the Sacrament does not end with thisparticular font and this particular sanctified water and this particular childon this particular Sunday. We may be baptized only once, but we touch waterevery day. Ad with every touch and taste and even smell of this precious giftwe take far too often for granted we have the chance to chant our own dailyprayer in the spirit of Shema:

Esta es la fuente de identidad, we could say everytime we turn on the faucet. This is the font of identity. I am a child ofGod’s blessing, we could say every time we bathe ourselves or our children,a child of God’s promise. And so I will love God with all my heart and souland mind . . . and my neighbor as myself . . . because my neighbor is also aprecious child of God’s blessing . . . a precious child of God’s promise . . .swimming in the sacred waters of baptism right along with me . . . and soanything I do or say to my neighbor I also say and do to myself.

If we remember our baptism daily with the simple touch ofwater, the simple taste of water, the simple sound of water, then we, likeJesus, will have a deep reservoir of courage and hope to remind us who wereally are—and to whom we really belong—whatever we may come to face from ourversion of the chief priests and Roman guards who seek to steal our identityfrom us.

If we remember our baptism daily with the simple touch of water,then we, like Jesus, will have a deep well of hope for the entire human race towhich we have been sealed. If we remember our baptism daily with the simpletouch of water, then we, like Jesus, will hand back to God—remit is theword that comes to us from the Latin—every fault and failing, every insecurityand infidelity that would separate us from the covenant commitment we have inChrist.

This is the gift of grace and assurance and protection we havejust given Nathan, child of blessing, child of promise, child of God’s covenantwith humanity. This is the gift of grace and assurance and protection we claimagain for ourselves.

So gather together again in God’s grace, people of God: theones with whom God will always persevere. Gather at the overflowing fuentede identidad, splashing with delight in these sacred waters that wash overyou, chanting forever that God has claimed you as God’s own, and demands nothing in return but to be lovedwith every part of who we are. And demands nothing in return but to be lovedthrough our love of our neighbor. And demands nothing in return but to be lovedthrough our love of our selves.

This is the font of identity, dear friends. Receive thisgift of grace as it comes to you unbidden: with adults who respond gratefullyto God’s wholly outstretched arms; with adolescents who are just opening up toGod’s eternal grace; and with children whom God claims before we even know howto ask.

I pray it may be so.

Amen.

Seeing the Face of God

2011-10-17T14:40:00.003-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Exodus 33: 12-23
Matthew 22: 15-22

Moses and the Hebrews have been at Mount Sinai for an entire year. They thought by now they would havearrived in the Land of Promise and Plenty, stable and settled, with all ofthe problems of Egyptbehind them.

They are not.

At least not the way they thought they would be. They arestill at Mount Sinai, still practicing the Ten Commandments, still figuring outhow to live together away from the court of Pharoah in Egypt. Still figuring out how toworship a god whose face they cannot see and whose name they cannot pronounce. BecauseYHWH, the one who leads the Hebrews to Sinai, refuses to be pinned down in agraven image of wood or stone. “I am who I Am,” this god says. “I will be who IWill Be.” Not always terribly comforting for those of us who want God to “makesense,” stay the same, be whomever we want God to be.

And so the Hebrews are still at Mount Sinai, stuck in aholding pattern with God: worshiping a calf of gold (choosing an image ofwealth they can see over a god who refuses to be rendered in an image), jockeyingwith one another for control of the community when Moses is away, and justgenerally missing the point of the honeymoon we are supposed to be celebratingafter the holy union we celebrated last Sunday.

They are frustrated. With God, with Moses, with one another,with themselves. And, let’s face it, we can relate. Because which one of us hasnot—at least at some point in our lives—gotten stuck in a holding pattern withthe Almighty? And maybe even—shall we be really honest?—with the peoplethe Almighty has given us to love?

The presbytery, for example. Or the Presbyterian Church ofMexico, which has severed its official ties with us over our new inclusiveordination standards. Or even our own families where the commitment may be strong,but the compassion may be waning. We get stuck in a holding pattern, just whenwe think we have re-committed to this holy union with God and with one anotherand the new life that awaits on the other side of the wilderness. And we caneasily spend the better part of a year—or two—or ten—watching and waiting forsome word from God that will “fix it” and guide us on our holy way once more.Just like the Hebrews at Mount Sinai did.

As we come to our lesson from Exodus this morning, Moses hasfinally received that much-awaited word from God: It is time to move on. It istime to let go. It is time to embrace an unknown path to an unknown land . . .following with full trust this god whose face we cannot see. But before we packup our tents and gather extra food for the journey, Moses wants comfort andassurance on this pilgrim journey toward wholeness. And surely this is also somethingwe can all understand. Will you really be with us God, he asks? Can we see you somehowalong this path that lies ahead? Being who you are? Being who you will be?

And God responds with grace and mercy, as God is sure to do:‘I will make all my goodness pass before you,’ God says. Just lift up your eyesto the hills, just trust that I will lead you. My face hidden from you, yes, butmy glory ever before you. Just trust that I will help you, because I havecalled you by name, and you are precious in my sight.

The invisible, unnamable god of the Hebrews does, finally,lead the people to a Land of Promise and Plenty. Thesame land Jesus roams as an itinerant preacher. The same land in which a templehas been constructed as the central place of worship for God. The same templeto which Jewish pilgrims from across the Mediterranean travel for the annualPassover Festival, which is where we find our Gospel Lesson. Tuesday of HolyWeek. With Jesus and his disciples joining the pilgrimage. The PassoverFestival recalling, of course, the same pilgrimage of Moses and the ancientHebrews we have been ourselves remembering these past many weeks in our worshiplife together.

Along the way to Jerusalem,Jewish pilgrims from across the Mediterranean singhymns from the Psalter . . . special hymns designed specifically as pilgrimagesongs, including the one that our choir just sang. ‘I lift up my eyes to thehills,’ Jesus sings, his disciples singing with him. ‘From whence willmy help come?’ we pray together. ‘My help comes from the Holy One . . .the maker of heaven and earth,’ we assure ourselves along the pilgrim path.‘The Holy One will keep you from evil. The Holy One will guard your life.’

The words of this psalm are near to Jesus’ lips as he ridesinto Jerusalemon a donkey to shouts of ‘Hosannah!’ Near to his lips as he enters the temple thatfateful first time. Near to his lips as he lashes out in horror at themoney-changing operation that leads him to turn the tables. Near to his lips,as he lights into the Pharisees for their failure to see the madness all aroundthem perpetuated in the name of God. Near to his lips, as the Pharisees and theHerodians approach him in the famous text from Matthew that is our GospelLesson today.

Because the difference, in the time of Jesus, is that the hillsto which Jesus lifts his eyes belong to the Romans. The Romans own the roads; theRomans own the [Jewish] kings, who are in cahoots with the empire for their ownpolitical gain; the Romans own the coins; the Romans own everything. And, ofcourse, they pay for what they own by taxing the peasants mightily.

All harvests, all personal property, everything is subjectto Roman taxation. And if you think our tax rates are too high, think again. Weare talking subsistence living, we are talking about perpetual grinding debt. Weare talking about Jewish authorities doing the Romans’ dirty work as hated taxcollectors. We are talking about the perfect storm for inciting an armed rebellion,which happened at least three times in the first two centuries of the CommonEra.

In response to this threat of rebellion, Roman guards linethe streets to “keep the peace” over everything they own. Meaning you cannottake a pilgrimage, you cannot lift your eyes to the hills, you cannot seek theface of God—or even just the Temple of God—without running smackinto the face of the Romans. Especially during the pilgrimage to Jerusalem forthe Passover Festival, the festival that reminds the people every year of the unnamable,faceless God who brought them out of oppression in Egypt and into the land thatthe Romans currently occupy. Into the land they believe should really belong tothem.

To make things more scandalous, part of the practice ofRoman domination is to force Roman imperial theology upon the people of thelands they conquer. They must worship the Roman emperor: the one they call,ironically, ‘Prince of Peace,’ ‘Lord and Savior,’ ‘Son of God,’ ‘Divine.’ Thedenarius—the Roman coin referred to in Matthew’s Gospel—has a picture ofTiberius Caesar on one side and the following caption on the other: ‘TiberiusCaesar, august and divine son of Augustus, high priest.’ It is literally brainwashing. A master stroke ofsocial control. And it worked for a very long time. Except for the province of Judea. Because they have come to bemonotheistic by the first century of the Common Era, because they absolutelymust not make God into a graven image, the worship of the emperor is flat-outidolatry to them. And the coin that proclaims the divine son-ship of theemperor is the hated symbol of that idolatry.

That is why money-changers line the Temple,taking the Roman denarius and trading it for a Temple coin more fitting for the worship ofGod. But their exploitation of this transaction for profit at the expense ofthe poor stokes the ire of Jesus just two days before the encounter that is ourtext for this morning. And so the Pharisees and the Herodians think they havedesigned the perfect trap to catch Jesus in either treason or heresy. BecauseJesus has already made clear his disdain for both the system of Romantaxation and the Templecollusion with that system.

But Jesus is lifting his eyes to the hills. Jesus knows fromwhence his help comes! Jesus trusts the Holy One to guard his life—andeventually even his death—and Jesus turns their trap right back on themselves. ‘Renderunto the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,’ Jesus says. ‘And toGod the things that are God’s.’

And lest we delude ourselves into thinking this is the firstcentury version of the separation of church and state, let us remember that—toJesus—everything belongs to God. Everything! To Jesus, the Phariseesand the Herodians reveal their idolatry, simply by asking the question.

Everything belongs to God, Madison Square PresbyterianChurch. Two thousands years later, on this Sunday, October 16, 2011, everythingstill belongs to God. Two days after a global protest of a fractured financialsystem, one week before our own stewardship season begins in earnest, one and ahalf months into this pilgrim journey that will be our interim ministrytogether. The bottom line truth of our existence is that everything,everything, everything belongs to God. Everything reveals God’s face.

The validity of our own pilgrimage journey on this planet boilsdown to this: whose image do we see—and whose image do we seek—when wejourney together as the people of God? Is it the face of whatever Caesar woulddemand our allegiance at the expense of the poor? Or is it the face of God—whocannot ever be fully known—but who claims every part of our lives for the goodof God’s most vulnerable people?

I hope it is the latter. I think it is the latter.But we have some decisions to make if our allegiance truly is to the face ofGod in our midst. Because Jesus put his body on the line, he put his life onthe line, he put his very faith in God on the line to say to anyone who wouldlisten that it did not matter how much they resisted Rome if they did not care about the personsitting right next to them. That it did not matter how faithfully they paidtheir taxes if they did not give alms to the Lazarus begging at the gate. Thatit did not matter how much they prayed psalm 121 if they had bread they did notshare with the hungry. That it did not matter how much they worshiped at God’sholy Temple ifthey did not make room for the ones they feared.

This is what the prophets have always said: if you want tosee the face of God, just look around you. Just pay attention. The face of Godis in every creature you meet.

Our Deacons have responded to this prophetic challenge intheir commitment to respond to our neighbors in this downtown location whenthey ask for our help on Sunday mornings, and I hope you will support them intheir endeavor. Our Session has responded to this prophetic challenge in theirsupport of the children and their teachers at our Child Development Center next door, and Ihope you will support their endeavor as well. Even our Buildings and Groundscommittee has responded to this prophetic challenge in their rapid response tothe overheating of our Alcoholics Anonymous guests who use the third floor fortheir meetings. And each one of us can respond to this prophetic challenge inwhatever way God’s face is revealed in our lives. We just have to payattention.

So take one step forward, dear friends, in the footsteps ofMoses, seeking the face of God in this pilgrim journey we are on. And know thatGod is still your help, still your strength, still your guardian and yourshield, for this life and for the next.

In the name of the One who saw the face of God in everyonehe met . . .

I pray it may be so.

Amen.

This Holy Union

2011-10-10T11:36:00.002-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Exodus 20: 1-4, 7-9, 12-20

Matthew 22:1-14

The “unity candle” is before us, on the table where weshared our common feast last Sunday. Where we came from north and south andeast and west to celebrate a meal of abundant life. Where we came to confess weare sick with the sin and the suffering and the violence of our world—includingthe violence attributed to the king in the Gospel of Matthew. And we want to bemade well, we want to be made whole, we want to be made one with our broken yetresurrected Christ. We want to be made one with God.

The “unity candle” is before us as a reminder of the valueswe share at the core of our covenant with Christ and, in turn, our covenantwith one another. A covenant that is not so very different from the vows twopeople make when they stand “before God and these witnesses” to unite theirlives “in plenty and in want; in joy and in sorrow; in sickness and in health;for as long as we both shall live.” Values of partnership and commitment, offidelity and trust, of intimacy and shared purpose, of perseverance and hope. Valuesof faith.

The “unity candle” is before us as a reminder of thecovenant union God has already made with us and that we have already made withGod, from a time long before our time, from a mountain in a wilderness most ofus will never see, where our Old Testament lesson this morning takes place. Thecovenant vows come from a mountain where a God who has heard the cries of asuffering people has led them out of bondage. From a mountain where a God whohas a vision for a new life of promise and plenty together with these peoplewill lead them onward to an old ancestral land. From a mountain where a God whois just beginning to become re-acquainted with this precious community willinvite them to rest and simply spend some time together before moving forwardwith a whole new commitment.

I would go so far as to call it a “holy union,” thiscovenant that takes place between God and God’s people at this mountain in thewilderness of the Exodus. Even the prophets call it a “marriage”: covenant vowsof steadfast love to express the mutual loyalty—the hesed—between Godand God’s people—between God and us--“for as long as we both shall live.”Which is, of course, forever.

And so the “unity candle” is before us as a reminder of thepromises that were made at Mount Sinai, the covenant vows that were offered inour name—and yes, I mean our name—these ancient words spoken for you andfor me—which is what the parable of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew is really tryingto say. That this holy union—this sacred marriage—between God and God’s people isfor us, too—for the Gentiles, too—that this “holy union” with God is for allwho would come to the feast.

And so we gather around the unity candle at the table ofgrace as a reminder of our covenant promises—the ones we call “The TenCommandments.” To renew our first four vows, which focus our fidelity to a God ofjustice and liberation, and to renew our last six vows, which focus our fidelityto the people with whom we have been bound to God. Because “this holy union”with God must also require a commitment to God’s community: that we respect oneanother’s families; that we respect one another’s property; that we respect oneanother’s lives and reputations. That we expect the same respect in return.

We could, of course, paraphrase these Ten Commandments—these“holy vows”—with one Great Commandment, and a second, which is like it, (whichis what Jesus did, after all): “to love the Holy One, our God, with all our heart,mind, soul and strength . . . and to love our neighbor as ourself.” And wecould throw rice and blow bubbles and decorate our cars and all live happilyever after! Right?

Well . . .

The problem is, as everyone who has taken these very humanvows knows, we just can’t seem to get it right. At least not all the time.Maybe not even most of the time. With God or with one another.

How many of us can honestly say we have forsaken all othergods, for example? And no, I’m not talking about honoring the wisdom of other worldreligions. I’m talking about where we place our loyalty. Where we place ourtrust. I’m talking about the stock market. Or the Clinique counter. And no, I’mnot suggesting we divest of our mutual funds or our makeup, I’m just saying weshould be honest about where we find our identity and our security. I’m justsaying we should be honest about the ways we make the God we worship into ourown image, rather than the other way around.

And how many of us can honestly say we have loved ourneighbor as our self? Let’s face it, if you’re like me you covet just about everythingyour neighbor has. Even Jimmy Carter “lusted in his heart,” after all! And eventhe easy vow—the one about honoring the Sabbath—the one that actually begsus not to work!—can be the hardest commitment to keep, at least in thisglobal, integrated, double-recession economy.

The truth is, we are not good at honoring our covenant vows,with God or with one another. And God knows it. And Jesus knows it. And in hisscathing critique of the chief priests and the Pharisees in Matthew’s Gospellesson for this morning, Jesus calls them on it, just as much as he did in theparable that was before us last week, and the week before, and the week beforethat.

And this is a hard parable to swallow, at least on itssurface. A king who is throwing a wedding banquet for his son strikes out inviolent rage at those who refuse the invitation. And then, just when we thinkthe banquet really is open to everyone, the person who isn’t dressed quiteright gets thrown out on his head, as well. On its surface, this parable shakesup everything we want to believe about a loving, committed, steadfast God whowill not ever let us go. We could go so far as to wonder if this “holy union”is even worth it at all.

But if we pay close attention to the context of the parable,we will see that all of the parables of judgment against the chief priests andPharisees between Palm Sunday and Easter ultimately culminate in that famouspassage from Matthew 25 about what really matters in the end: that we feed thehungry; welcome the stranger; clothe the naked; care for the sick; visit theprisoner. Each of these acts is a pro-active approach to honoring thecommandment to love our neighbor as our self. Which is the same as honoring thelast six vows of the Ten Commandments. Which is what it means to live in holyunion with God and one another in the first place.

What Jesus is trying to do in this parable is shake up thepeople who think they have already done just fine by God and by God’s people,thank you very much. Who think they don’t need to be shaken up. Who think theyhave no need of grace. Who don’t care all that much about the hungry, lonely,naked, or sick. Who really, in the end, don’t care all that much about God. Theyjust want to crash the wedding for a free meal. And if we, too, are shaken upby the parable, shall we confess that maybe, perhaps, we might just need to be?

The apostle Paul puts it a bit more gently: “God has chosenyou and made you holy people,” he says to the Colossians, he says to us. “Soyou should always clothe yourselves with mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness,and patience. Bear with each other, and forgive each other. . . . Even morethan all this, clothe yourself in love. Love is what holds you all together inperfect unity” (Col3:12-14). These are the clothes that are fit for a wedding, after all. Theseare the clothes we would wear to renew the vows of our holy union. And, in thewedding traditions of the ancient near east, the king would have made sureevery one of us was given these clothes if we could not afford them ourselves.So does our God. We just have to decide we want to wear this cloak of grace wehave been given at the door. Because let’s face it, every one of us needs it.

In our communion last week, we were reminded that the tableis open to Judas and Peter and all who fail utterly to live our covenantpromises completely. “The great wedding feast,” which the Lord’s Supper issometimes called, invites us to renew the commitment again and again and again.We just have to decide to say yes.

Right here, right now, God offers the same invitation: Ilove you; even now. I still want to be your God. Do you still want to be mypeople? And we get to say, I do.

Pastor: You shall have no other gods beforeme.

Leader: Do youtake me as your God, the one on whom you will fully depend, for better or forworse, for richer or for poorer, in sicknessand in health, forsaking all others, for as long as we both shall live?

Congregation: I do.

Pastor: You shall not make for yourself anidol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath,or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them orworship them.

Leader: Doyou really take me as your God, the one on whom you will fully depend, forbetter or for worse, for richer or for poorer,in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as we both shalllive?

Congregation: I do.

Pastor: You shall not make wrongful use ofthe name of the Holy One, who is your God.

Leader: Doyou promise to honor me? Who I really am? Because I Am Who I Am,and I Will Be Who I Will Be, and I cannotjust be whoever you want me to be in the moment? Do you take me as I am, andnot who you think I should be?

Congregation: I do.

Pastor: Remember the Sabbath day, and keepit holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day isa Sabbath unto the Holy One, who is your God.

Leader: Doyou promise to spend time with me? To stop working so hard for just a few hours. . . just one day a week . . . and get to knowme again? To hear me speak to you again? To sing together again? To share ourjoys and sorrows again? To forgive what needs to be forgiven . . . to stopworrying so much about the future and just enjoy the time we have? To rememberhow very much we love each other? Do you promise to take time to be with me andour people?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: Honor your father and mother, sothat your days may be long in the land that the Holy One, your God, is givingyou.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you promise to express gratitude for the family of God thatgives you life? For the family that supports youand takes you in when you are hurting? For the family of this church thatcelebrates who you really are, that claims you as one of its children? Do youpromise to honor your family?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: You shall not murder.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you promise to cherish this precious life we have been given? Tocelebrate life in all its fullness aroundus? To preserve and protect the image of God in all of creation? Do you promiseto love life?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: You shall not commit adultery.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you promise to honor the commitments that others have made to one

another? To support the familiesin our midst who have made covenant promises to one another? Do you promise tohonor your own covenant commitments?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: You shall not steal.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you promise to accept what is rightfully yours, and no more? Tobe grateful for whatever abundance God hasgranted you? To share from that abundance with others? To receive the giftsthat others offer in your time of need? To ask for help when you need it?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: You shall not bear false witnessagainst your neighbor.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you promise to speak only the truth as you know it? To refrainfrom gossip or rumors or suspicion withoutgenuine cause? Do you promise to listen carefully to what others have said,seeking to understand as much as to be understood, praying for God’s wisdom toclarify good intentions when misunderstandings lead to difficult feelings? Doyou promise to speak only the truth as you know it?

Congregation: I do!

Pastor: You shall not covet anything thatbelongs to your neighbor.

Leader: WithGod’s help, do you really promise to accept what is rightfully yours,and no more? To be grateful for whatever abundanceGod has granted you? To share from that abundance with others? To receive thegifts that others offer in your time of need? To ask for help when you need it?

Congregation: I do!

May we be united in renewed commitment to God and oneanother on this day and forevermore.

Amen.

Pressing Onward Toward the Goal

2011-10-05T10:45:00.002-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Philippians 3:4b-16
Matthew 21:33-46

It is World Communion Sunday, celebrated by Presbyterians on the firstSunday in October every year since 1936, reminding us on this particular Sundayeach year what we know every time we celebrate communion: that the risen Christbids us come from east and west, north and south, across every border of humandesign to feast with him in eternal grace. To re-member his broken body throughthe sharing of bread and the pouring of wine. To continue his commitment tofeed all who hunger and sate all who thirst. To proclaim boldly his death andhis resurrection and his coming again in glory; to trust the heavenly banquetprepared for evermore.

It is World Communion Sunday, celebrated by Lutherans and Methodists andeveryone in between, reminding us on this particular Sunday each year what weknow in our hearts every time we celebrate communion: that this table to whichwe come—begging—does not belong to Madison Square Presbyterian Church, or tothe Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), or even—I would dare to suggest—to anyorganized institutional “visible church” at all . . .

The table belongs to Christ. And Christ bids every one of us come.

It is a table to which broken and suffering people have come for centuries,seeking spiritual sustenance and finding it in abundance. It is a table towhich hungry and thirsty people have come, seeking literal food and drink andfinding it in abundance. It is a table to which self-satisfied andself-righteous people have come, seeking forgiveness of sins and assurance ofpardon and finding it in abundance.

It is a table of grace.

It is a table that takes us as we are and transforms us into who we canbecome. And whenever we come to the table, we quite literally come from acrossthe globe, from across the centuries, from across all time and all space toshare a meal with everyone who has come to this table before us and everyonewho will come to this table after us and everyone who hungers and thirsts onthis planet right now with us. Including Judas, and every one of us who knowsbetrayal. Including Peter, and every one of us who knows denial. Including theBeloved Disciple, and every one of us who knows what it is to witness sufferingto the end. Whoever we are, we come to the table. And we are One Body. And weare at peace.

It is World Communion Sunday. And as we gather across time and space tofeast with our Savior, we join with other Presbyterians in offering a tangibleresponse to this peace that passes all understanding when we collect ourspecial offering to the Presbyterian Peacemaking Program. And we say with ourgifts of dollars and cents that we want this gift of grace we receive at thetable, this gift of peace we receive at the table, to be made real in the worldbeyond these walls. Because we know we live in a world that is far from thepromise of the peace we experience at this table. All we have to do to knowthat is to read the Sunday paper this morning.

I have been thinking much about this table and its gift of peace, as I havestudied the Scriptures that are before us this Sunday, both in my own prayerfuldiscernment and with our newly formed Teach the Preacher group who struggledwith me to make sense of such a violent parable from Matthew’s gospel on such aSunday devoted to peace.

If we are going to put the parable of the Wicked Tenants in the context ofthe table to which we come, we should note that the conversation most likelytakes place on Monday or Tuesday of Holy Week in those high stakes days betweenPalm Sunday and Easter when tensions are high and Jesus is just beginning todraw the kind of attention that will soon have him arrested and crucified ontrumped up charges later in the week. This harsh, violent parable about killingand casting out and crushing under the cornerstone is told three days beforethe Last Supper, four days before the crucifixion, six days before theresurrection (let us never forget that part!), in the earliest part of thatHoly—yet terribly violent—Week that forms the foundation of our faith asfollowers of Christ. That week we re-member every time we come to the table.

In the context of the violence of that horrible—yet Holy—week, we haveanother vineyard and another landowner. Perhaps he is the same oikodespotesfrom the parable of two weeks ago, but this time he is an absenteelandlord who thinks he has done everything necessary to protect the fruits ofhis land with a fence and a watchtower and tenants who will take care of thingsuntil the plentiful harvest. He thinks he is secure. He thinks he has paid theprice for peace.

But the harvest goes terribly wrong. The tenants to whom the landownerentrust his crop decide to hoard the abundance that never belonged to them inthe first place, inciting a cycle of violence that leaves multiple peopleinjured or killed, including the beloved son of the landowner, himself. Thevineyard is utterly decimated. Blood is flowing where wine should have beenpoured. The body broken, the blood shed. Exactly what we re-member when we cometo the table.

There is too much brokenness. There is too much bloodshed.

The later Christian interpretation of this parable is, of course, that thechief priests and the Pharisees are the wicked tenants and that their“rejection of Jesus” means the kingdom of God has been givenexclusively to Christians. That the rejected cornerstone (meaning Christ,himself) will crush those who rejected it. And so the cycle of violence hascontinued, as Christians throughout the centuries have come to this tableidentifying ourselves with the “good tenants” to whom the vineyard of God’skingdom has been given and have then gone from this table vindictively usingthis parable to justify anti-Judaism—and anti-whateverism—in its most ugly andviolent forms.

I don’t think that’s what the table is about. I don’t think that’s what theparable is about.

The chief priests and the Pharisees, to whom the parable is directed, knowthat what the wicked tenants have done is wrong. They are, in fact, the firstto name the injustice, the first to speak the anger that would surely be in theheart of anyone whose servants and sons were all murdered by such wickedtenants. The chief priests and Pharisees will, in fact, identify themselvesmost closely with the landowner in this parable. Many of them are landowners,themselves, wealthy enough to leave their vineyards in the hands of trustedtenants while they tend to their religious duties in Jerusalem: their own “table of Sacraments,”if you will.

What the chief priests and Pharisees do not see—either by choice or byignorance—is that the cost of their identification with the average householddespot of the Roman Empire perpetuates further economic barriers againstthe most vulnerable peasants who seek the solace of their God at the Jerusalem Temple. It has been the problem with theTemplehierarchy since its inception, almost since the time of Solomon. The Jerusalem elite builds upthe temple at the expense of the poor. And Jesus calls them on it, just likethe prophets before him called their chief priests on it—holding up a mirror tothe undercurrent of fear and greed and violence that perpetuates this system .. . and that will eventually take his own life. Which, of course, we alsore-member at this table.

Two thousand years later, on this World Communion Sunday, as we re-member thestories of that horrible—yet Holy—week, can we honestly claim to be the“good tenants” who replace the religious leaders of Jesus’ day with our ownmore excellent fruit of the kingdom? Or does the same mirror Jesus held up tothe chief priests and the Pharisees of his day reveal our own fear and greedand violence even now?

I would argue that it does. I would argue that we, like the apostle Paul,cannot yet claim to have “reached the goal of the heavenly call of God inChrist Jesus.” Just look at our hoarding. Just look at our wars. Just look atthe vineyard we pollute with utter disdain. I would argue that we come to thistable clinging, like Paul, to “Christ and the power of his resurrection”—especiallyon this World Communion Sunday—because we know there is too much sufferingin this world, and we know we are too much a part of that suffering, and weknow that we do not want to be anymore.

We know that we need healing and wholeness and hope and that we don’t quitehave it yet in its fullness. We know that peace on earth begins with us: withour families and with our co-workers and yes, with our own congregation. Weknow we come to the table broken and suffering, hungry and thirsty,self-righteous and self-satisfied, desperate for a second chance.

And we get it.

Because this is a table of grace. It is a table that takes us as we are andtransforms us into who we can become. So come to the table, whoever you are,wherever you are from, whatever you have done, whatever you have left undone.Come to the table. “Forget what lies behind” . . . let it go . . . it is overand done . . . it is in God's redeeming and resurrecting hands. “Strain forwardto what lies ahead, as we press on tighter toward the goal for the prize of theheavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” The future is before us. The future towhich Christ calls us. And it truly can be a future of peace.Because peace really is here for us in the bread and in the cup, as were-member the broken body of Christ, and transform a week of ever-escalatingviolence into a meal of resurrection life. Let there be peace on earth, we prayas we come to the table; and let it begin with me.

I pray it may be so.

Amen.

Teaching and Testing

2011-09-26T15:00:00.001-05:00

By Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

Exodus 17:1-7

Something always gets messed up in a move.

This time, for me, it was the Brita filter. You know, the waterthermos with a special compartment at the top that filters out impurities contaminatingthe water from the tap. [I don’t actually know a lot about water filtration. Ijust know that I had a Brita filter in Tucson, andI liked it, and I expected to have the same one here in San Antonio.]

For two weeks I unpacked kitchen boxes with dedicatedperseverance, savoring in my mind the sediment-free stream that would flow fromits spout the moment we were reunited, anticipating with ever-greaterenthusiasm the moment I would finally pull my one and only Brita filter out ofthe last box of kitchen items to be unpacked . . . on Tuesday . . . lateafternoon . . .

It was cracked.

A long, thin, irreparable crack from top to bottom. GoodbyeBrita filter. Hello a few choice words from a frustrated yours truly! [I willnot repeat them from the pulpit.]

Let’s just say I sympathize with the ancient Hebrews,wandering in the wilderness, wondering from where in the world their next drinkof water will come. If I was this upset about a broken Brita filter after aremarkably easy move, imagine what it would be to find yourself in a land youhave never known, swept up with a pack of runaways you have barely met, with noUnited Van Lines to get you and your belongings safely from Egypt to the Landof Promise and Plenty.

“What in the world were we thinking?” was the phrase on thelips of just about every Hebrew making the journey. [Including a few more wordswe won’t say from the pulpit.] Yes, Egypt was bad. Egypt was reallybad. But at least we knew where the next bottle of water was coming from.Here there is nothing to drink!

And Moses, their leader, is at his wits end to respond. Itdoes not matter that this ragtag bunch of escaped runaways has passed throughthe Red Sea unscathed. It does not matter thatGod has just rained bread—manna from heaven—to provide for the hunger of thisgroup of people Moses has come to lead. What matters is this present moment of lifeand death, this dry and weary land where there is no water to put in even acracked Brita filter. And they honestly do not know if God is with them or not.And maybe it would have been better to have just stayed put in Egypt afterall.

At least that’s what the ancient Hebrews say in the present momentof panic. And let’s face it, that’s what we all say in the present moment of whateverpanic currently terrifies us, even though God has already proven over and overagain that God will provide in the wilderness: through the Red Sea, through themanna from heaven, through the quail. And God continues to prove it, as Godleads Moses and a group of elders to a gushing stream from a rocky place in anearby mountain, to an abundant waterfall that was there all along, but just didn’thappen to come from the Brita filter covering the contaminated tap water flowingabundantly from their enslavement in Egypt.

Something always gets messed up in the move, but God somehowalways finds a way to make it better. That is what God is trying to say to theancient Hebrews wandering in the wilderness. That is what God is trying to sayto all of us wandering in the wilderness.

Because the story of the ancient Hebrews wandering in thewilderness is the classic story of pilgrimage, of setting out on a journey offaith with all of the twists and turns, the teaching and testing, the leavingbehind and the embracing of the new that are necessary when God invites us to bandtogether on a journey of grace to a place we do not yet know but that we havebeen told holds promise and opportunity, abundance and wholeness, milk andhoney. Peace.

We are part of that pilgrimage every Sunday when we gatherin the name of Christ, celebrating the goodness of what God has already done forus and for our people, naming our present panic—a job on the line, or a childthat is sick, or an anger that refuses to abate, or a faith that has comecrashing to its core—and finding somewhere in this holy hour in this holy spacea river of life to sustain us on the journey, just like the Hebrews did in thewaters of Meribah. A word of hope in the Call to Worship, a note of grace in asong of trust, a conviction revived in a prayer or a reading, a challenge oropportunity from the meditation on the Word.

When we come to worship every Sunday, we remember thispilgrim journey we are on—this pilgrim journey God’s people have always beenon—and we trust that somehow, someway, God will bring us home.

And God does!

I think that is why your “Bienvenidos” is so important toyou, why you demanded it back at the beginning of your worship service afteryou felt like it was taken away. The presentation of the gifts is kind of likethe tabernacle the ancient Hebrews carried across the desert, forming thecenter of their campground from one movement to the next, the place they couldalways count on, no matter where in the wilderness they found themselves. And Iapplaud you for it. It is the hallmark of who you are at Madison SquarePresbyterian Church, welcoming God’s pilgrim people to whatever home we canfind as we wander our way through the wilderness that is our very lives.

So now here we are, settling in to our third week togetheras interim pastor and pilgrim people, and the welcome is genuine and heartfelt. . . and it seems timely to step back a bit and reflect for a minute on whatit is we are actually doing together in this “interim” ministry. Or, perhaps moreappropriately, what it is God might be doing with us on this particular pilgrimagethat is ours in this season at Madison Square.

Like the ancient Hebrews, we, too, are setting out on ajourney of faith through an unknown land to a promise of hope on the otherside, are we not? Or, more accurately, we are meeting at Mount Sinai to journey the rest of the way together. We are a group ofpeople—like them—joined by a common heritage, bound together by a sense that ajust and generous God wants freedom and wholeness and abundant life for allGod’s people, bound and determined to find that grace by any means necessary, boundand determined to find a “permanent” pastor who will not lead this community backinto Egypt, bound and determined to prepare this community to receive that newpastor well.

Like the ancient Hebrews, we may hit a few bumps in the road—andperhaps we have already—and it may take a little longer than we really think itshould—and perhaps it has already. But this is a pilgrimage, not a sprint tothe finish . . . a way of life, not something to “get through” so we can start the“real” living again. And there is much to be learned along the way if we takethe time to pay attention.

The Hebrews needed a census of the people they actually had travelingwith them—not unlike our own efforts to update our membership rolls, so theytook the time to stop and count. And they needed a set of shared guidelines toorganize their daily living—not unlike our newly adopted bylaws, so they tookthe time to stop at Sinai and receive the Ten Commandments. And they needed anew class of elders and deacons trained in the ways of the wilderness, so theytook the time to re-organize their leadership in patterns that served theirneeds more effectively and fairly.

And they needed to work through their disagreements and headoff the opposing tribes trying to send them back to Egypt, so they took thetime to debate their differences and stand firm in the face of backlash andmistrust. And they just plain needed to let go of what was no longer workingfor them in order to receive a new opportunity for something different toemerge—not unlike me letting go of my Brita filter. So it took them a while. Andit will take us a while. But once we are ready for the Land of Promiseand Plenty, we will really, truly be ready!

Because what the ancient Hebrews realized through theirpilgrimage in the wilderness—and what I hope we will learn right along withthem—is that the journey was, in fact, the destination. Everything they learnedin the wilderness sustained them in the land to come. Pilgrimage became a wayof life, not just a practice in the moment, and the trust in God to provide forthem and strengthen them through whatever wilderness they found themselves inbecame the walk of faith that is ours still today.

Are you really with us, God, in this journey through anunknown land? they wanted to know. Yes, I really am, and I will be with you tothe end, God responds.

That was what God was teaching them in the wilderness. Thatis how they were testing God in return. And that is what God is teaching us,too, here at Madison Squareas we work our way through “The Developmental Tasks of the Interim Period,” whichis what we call the intentional transition from one installed pastor to thenext. Like the ancient Hebrews, God really is forming Madison SquarePresbyterian Church as a whole new people, a whole new community, in a newplace with a new way of relating to one another—and, I would dare to suggest,even a new way of relating to God. And it is going to take some time to figurethat new way out, just like it did for the ancient Hebrews.

What I want to offer you, as your interim pastor, is thestability and trust and joy that comes with embracing this pilgrimage as a wayof life, rather than a means to a destination, learning over and over againthat God will find a way to provide for us just at the moment we have given uphope. That God will fashion us into a new community, just when we have decidedwe cannot belong. That God will teach us and test us, just when we have cavedin to the cloud of unknowing. That in these times of pilgrimage, we discovermore deeply who we are, and we trust more intently whose we are, and webecome more fully who God created us to be. In fact, that is always ourinvitation as a people of faith. It’s just that now we get to pay closerattention to it.

What I have learned from you in these few short weeks isthat you already have everything you need to sustain you on this pilgrimjourney: you have la fuente de identidad, the water of your baptism . .. reminiscent of that passage of freedom through the Red Sea . . . grounding usin the promise of God’s grace for the journey; you have la mesa de sustento,the meal of manna and unfiltered water flowing from the most unlikely places .. . nourishing us just at the moment we have given into despair; and you have ellibro de memoria y promesa, the stories of God’s walk with our people inthe past, encouraging us in the present toward the future hope that is lifeeternal in that Land of Promise and Plenty.

In the weeks and months to come on this pilgrim journey thatis ours together, I will simply remind you of what you already know: that Godis still with us even now; that prayer and perseverance will see us through whateverpanic emerges along the way; that who we will become may yet be even moreexciting than who we have been; and that at the end of the day, God will always. . . always . . . always welcome us home.

This is always what it has meant to be God’s pilgrim people.With or without our Brita filter. Amen.

Another Day, Another Dollar?

2011-09-19T16:31:00.000-05:00

By Gusti Linnea Newquist

Exodus 16:1-15
Matthew 20:1-16

Every day is a gift from God, the ancient Israelites sing, asMoses assures them God will feed their hunger and quench their thirst. Everyday is a gift from God, we have joined them in singing when we, too, gatheraround the bread of life, as the manna from heaven falls, as the heavens “rainbread,” which is how the Hebrew is so beautifully translated. Every day is agift from God, we celebrate with them, soaking up the raining bread in thewilderness of Sin—just like we have been soaking up the raining rainthis weekend—in a land that is so barren of life in the eyes of the ancientIsraelites that even Egypt, with its whips and chains of slavery, seems like awelcome—and lush—alternative.

But every day is a gift from God, the ancient Israelites startsinging, when the raining bread starts to fall and the quail crop up from the crackedand parched earth. And they have enough to eat, and it is enough for everyone, nomatter how rich or poor or young or old. No matter how able-bodied. It is not aluxury, of course. It is not fried chicken and apple pie. But they have theirdaily bread. And so do we. Because in the middle of a dry and weary land, wheneven Egyptseems like a better alternative, Moses thunders, “God. Will. Provide!” And God does!

It is a question that is ever before us, is it not? Will Godreally provide? Jobs? Security? Peace? Rain for a drought-ridden state? Theseeconomic times—and this literal drought—have forced us all to reconsider ourbasic assumptions about money and savings and grace and providence. The truthis, if we are really honest, we would be hard-pressed to find anyone among us whois not wandering in the wilderness when it comes to money. It is a symbol ofour ego, our security, our emotional rootedness. Plain talk about money is inmany ways more threatening to us than plain talk about sexuality. The truth is,if we are really honest, we might rather believe God will just make it allbetter for us if we complain loudly enough, like the Israelites did with Moses.That bread really will rain from heaven or money really will grow on trees so wedon’t have to think about it anymore.

But according to the Bible, God’s provision for daily bread extendswell beyond the miraculous manna in the wilderness. God’s provision for dailybread also includes an emphatic set of teachings for the community to live by oncethey have settled into the Land of Promise and Plenty. TheLaw, we call these teachings in English; Torah in Hebrew. And in the teachingsof Torah, once the people have settled into abundant life across the Jordan,each tribal family is assigned sufficient land holdings to meet their basic needsfor generations to come. Enough for everyone—rich, poor, young, old—to receivetheir daily bread from the abundance of the land they have been assigned. Notso different from the miracle of manna in the wilderness, actually. Only thistime, the miracle comes from human sharing of God’s abundance. Which is, giventhe human propensity for hoarding, perhaps the greater miracle.

Torah maintains a special concern for the most vulnerableamong us: the widow and the orphan, to be precise in biblical language, butreally anyone who has fallen into perpetual poverty. According to Torah, thewealth of the land should be redistributed every fifty years so that those whohave fallen behind can start fresh with a level playing field where debts arecanceled, where indentured servants are set free, where God’s wilderness promiseof enough for everyone becomes the literal law of the land. It is Basic BiblicalEconomics: 1) God has given us abundance; 2) We are required to share it; 3)Inequities must be reconciled over time. (see Leviticus 25. Yes. Leviticus!)

We pray for these biblical economic principles every Sundayin our Lord’s Prayer: “Give us this day our daily bread,” we ask. “Forgive usour debts, as we forgive our debtors,” we pray. We call forth, as Jesus did,the core of the teachings of Torah, the core of the tradition through which Godhas ensured God’s faithful provision for all of humanity, the core of thetradition Jesus comes to fulfill by his very presence among us.

Because by the time we get to first century Judea, wherethat itinerant preacher named Jesus consolidates the core of Torah into what wecall The Lord’s Prayer and starts sharing the core of Torah with his disciplesthrough parables about the kingdom of heaven, just about everyone has forgottenthe law of the land. The Romans have taken over. The tribes have all beenscattered. Landowning elites now own great estates producing luxury crops ofwine and oil. Oikodespotes, these landowners are called in Greek: oiko,meaning “household,” and despotes meaning—well—let’s just say this iswhere we get the English word despot. They foreclosed on loans, theytook over peasant farms, they drove the little guy out of business, and theydrove up food prices. Intentionally. Without mercy. The peasant farmers,themselves, often had no choice but to start working for the very samelandowner who had taken their land!

By the time we get to first-century Judea,where an itinerant preacher named Jesus starts sharing parables with hisdisciples about the kingdom of heaven, the Land does not seem so full ofPromise and Plenty anymore. It has become far easier to believe manna will fallagain from the sky than to believe a landowner will actually live by theteachings of Torah. I suppose we could say the same thing today.

Jesus says it can be different. Jesus demands it to bedifferent! “The kingdom of heaven,” Jesus says in Matthew’s Gospel,Chapter 20, verses 1-16, “is like a landowner who went out early in the morningto hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for theusual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard.” And already we who aredisciples are stunned. This is a landowner unlike any other “householddespot” that comes to mind when you hear about the 1^st centuryequivalent to an “overpaid CEO of a multinational corporation.”

Unlike his peers who would normally never associate with theday laborers at the lowest pay grade in his company, this guy actually takesthe time to go hire them himself. He seeks them out early in the morning, whilemost of us are still sipping our morning coffee and reading the paper. Alandowner wants to talk to a day laborer. A CEO wants to talk with a mailclerk. And this, in itself, really could be something like the reign of God.

But the story goes on: “When [the landowner] went out about nineo’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them,‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So theywent. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did thesame. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; andhe said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him,‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go to the vineyard.’”

And of course there is no explanation for why all the laborersdid not receive work that morning or why the landowner did not just hire themall in the first place. But if the situation in Tucson of day laborers who gather at churchesto wait for work is any indication, there simply were not have enough jobs foreveryone. At least not according to secular economic principles. And many ofthe laborers, themselves, have a code of ethics to follow. “Maria has a sickchild and can’t pay the doctor,” they might say. “She should go first in line.”Or “Joey hasn’t worked in a week. He really needs the money.” Watching theirown chances fade as they day wears on, hoping against hope something else willcome along. And it does, in the kingdom of heaven! God really does find a wayto provide: through a landowner who has finally figured out how to talk to thepeople who work the land, through a landowner who realizes he really does haveenough to share, through a household despot who converts to the basicsof biblical economics: 1) God has given us abundance, he realizes; 2) We arerequired to share it, he decides; 3) Inequities must be reconciled over time. Andnow is always the time.

“When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to hismanager, ‘Call the managers and give them their pay, beginning with the lastand then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each ofthem received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought theywould receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. Andwhen they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These lastworked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne theburden of the day and the scorching heat. But he replied to one of them,‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong’ did you not agree with me for the usual dailywage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give this last the same as Igive to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Orare you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first and the firstwill be last.” And that is the final teaching of Basic Biblical Economics.

The traditional interpretation of this parable is, ofcourse, that God is the landowner, and we are the laborers. That God wants togive us abundant life by God’s good grace, and we who are human want to believewe can earn it. And we can’t. Because it is a gift. Always and forever, a gift.

God wants everyone to have our daily bread. Period. AndGod knows this will not happen unless we all do our part—landowner and daylaborer, alike—to trust God has truly given us enough, to trust we can share itwell, to trust we can find a way to reconcile inequalities.

We at Madison Square have a small but significant way topractice the basic biblical economics of our Scripture lessons today. God hasgiven us the stewardship of this small vineyard, here on the corner of Camden and Lexington,to cultivate for the glory of God to practice biblical economics. We are acommunity of faith that gathers from across the city to call this place homeevery Sunday of every week, that gathers around the table for our own mannafrom heaven every month. We are a community of children that seeks wholenessand hope in the Child Development Centerevery Monday through Friday. We are a community of recovering alcoholics whofind this church to be the one place they can relinquish their lives to ahigher power. We are a set of buildings to maintain—or tear down—and a missionof justice and peace to proclaim beyond our walls.

You probably were not expecting a Stewardship sermon thisSunday, but here it is: God has given us everything we need to provide well foreach of these ministries. In fact, God has given us so much that we couldprobably double our provision for the ministry that is before us. Wejust have to decide we want to do it, following the lead of that converted householddespot landowner who took the time to know the people, who figured out hehad a lot more to offer than he thought he did. And we do, too.

Amen.

The Forgiveness Project

2011-09-12T12:28:00.001-05:00

by Rev. Gusti Linnea Newquist

“I needed to forgive him,” Mary Johnson said of the man who had murdered her 20 year old son at a late-night party in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1993. “I needed to forgive him,” Mary said, “so I could help other mothers in pain.”

Ten years after enduring the worst pain a mother can experience, ten years after describing the man who murdered her son as “an animal . . . [who] deserved to be caged,” Mary contacted Oshea Israel in prison to see if he would receive a visit from her. After an initial refusal, Oshea finally said yes. “I had to be a man,” Oshea said to himself when Mary made the first move. “[I had to] communicate with his mother.”

It was not an easy reunion. Although she had asked for the meeting, Mary’s anger and hurt were still strong, even ten years later. She had thought Oshea should have a stronger sentence. She had thought parole should not ever be an option. She had become reclusive and unable to look at her son’s photos. The pain was visceral, even then. But she was a Christian woman who believed it was her duty to forgive, seventy times seven, if need be. And so she prayed and fasted for twenty-one days before meeting with Oshea to clarify her intentions and to focus on forgiveness.

Oshea, for his part, had spent the past ten years blaming Mary’s son for the crime. Oshea claimed he had been provoked in the heat of the moment and that Mary should have raised her son better than she did. But when Mary made the first move toward reconciliation, Oshea knew it was time to take stock of his life over the past ten years, to take responsibility for his actions. He realized, upon reflection, that he had changed and grown in ways he had not anticipated. He had found the courage to walk away from the gang that had stoked the violence in the first place. He had pursued a GED and was ready for a fresh start. So he prepared to meet the mother of the man he had murdered ten years earlier with a spirit of repentance and respect, unsure of what to expect in return.

Ten years after the crime, ten years after the trial, ten years after the sentencing and imprisonment, Mary and Oshea met once again. They spoke for two hours, both of them praying for an attitude of grace. And as they talked, Mary realized Oshea’s life was very similar to her son’s. They had both liked the same sports, they had both experienced the same difficulties in school, they had both been seduced by the gangs that had escalated the violence that fateful night. In the honest sharing of their lives, Oshea felt a strong connection to Mary, almost as if she were his second mother. “I caused her pain,” he realized. “But we are loving each other through it.”

As their reunion drew to a close, Mary said to Oshea, “I forgive you. I let you go,” and he hugged her tight in response. Mary cried and started to fall with the weakness of relief, but Oshea held her up, supporting her with his strength. And as they stood there, hugging and crying, ten years after he had murdered her son, Mary literally felt hatred and bitterness leave her body. She literally broke free of the chains around her soul the murder of her son had become. And so did Oshea, even though he was still technically in prison. Both of them were freed by forgiveness.

By the time Oshea was finally released on parole, Mary was able to welcome him wholeheartedly back into society. He moved in next door to her, and they began to look out for one another, like mother and child. Mary now wears a locket with a picture of her son on one side and a picture of Oshea on the other. And Mary’s dream of forgiving Oshea in order to be able to help other mothers in pain has become a reality. She formed a non-profit organization to help others who have lost children to violence. Mary and Oshea speak together throughout their community about forgiveness and healing. And their story was the feature article this week for the “Heroes Among Us” department of People Magazine. Truly Mary and Oshea are both heroes among us, an inspiration to all who would heed the gospel call to forgiveness and hope that is our Scripture lesson this morning.

In any other week, the story of Mary and Oshea would have made it to the front cover of the magazine and we would have heralded their courage as a hallmark of hope. But this week, of course, the cover story is about September 11^th, ten years later. This week, the locket hanging around the neck of the 9-year old Lauren McIntyre on the cover of People Magazine holds a photo of her father, Donald, a Port Authority Police Officer who was killed in the Second Tower of the World Trade Center. And in honor of her and all the children whose fathers died on that day before they were born, this week of remembering and re-telling the stories of September 11, 2001 takes precedence over all else, as it should.

What does the call to forgive “seventy times seven” really mean for us on the 10^th anniversary of September 11^th? Are we supposed to forgive the hijackers the way Mary forgave Oshea? Are we supposed to forgive Osama bin Laden, himself? Or is it our own government giving in to the temptation to torture we are called to forgive? Do we just “let go” of the worst day in the history of our country as a moment in time to hand over to God without question or comment? Or is something else going on with the forgiving king and the unforgiving servant of that might encourage us and challenge us and strengthen us as a community for the gospel ministry that is ours today, ten years later?

Biblical scholar William Herzog reminds us in his analysis of the Parables [of Jesus] as Subversive Speech that we do well to remember the true nature of kingship in the time of Jesus. When we, who live in a democracy, hear the parable today, we automatically assume the king is parallel to God. And we assume the king is benevolent. But kings in the time of Jesus are not to be confused with God! The kings who ruled in the time of Jesus had a pact with the Roman Emperor to “keep the peace” by squelching the masses. It was a cycle of violence so vast and so excessive and so insidious that it made the gang violence in Minneapolis that ended the life of Mary’s son look like child’s play.

The kings of the first century Roman Empire exacted severe taxes from the peasant population to enhance their material wealth and expand their influence and power. Most peasants were radically in debt for their entire lives. The kings employed a servant class of bureaucrats to prop up their authority and claim their taxes by any means necessary. And the kings kept a standing guard of merciless thugs ever at the ready to enforce this system of exploitation through torture. The king, the servants, and the thugs were a closed system of powerful elitism that propped up about 2% of the population at the expense of the other 98%. All of them were corrupt, all of them were ruthless, all of them were beyond the scope of the true reign of God.

The disciples listening to Jesus talking about a king, his servants, and the thugs who implemented torture on a far-too-often basis would have had a visceral negative reaction. They would not naturally have associated either themselves or God with any of the characters of this parable. They would not have believed it possible to compare a king, his servants, and his thugs to what Jesus calls “the kingdom of God.”

And that is precisely the point!

For one brief moment, in the vision of Jesus of the reign of God, a benevolent, messianic king overcomes the expectations everyone holds of his ruthless, vindictive nature and breaks the cycle of violent exploitation once and for all. For one brief moment, in the vision of Jesus of the reign of God, a benevolent messianic king completely forgives a debt that could never have been repaid in the first place. (10,000 talents is the equivalent of 150,000 years of labor!)

And, most important, in the vision of Jesus of the reign of God, a merciless king finally showing mercy is not just an individual act of forgiveness designed to alleviate the suffering of one individual person. Forgiving such a massive debt was for the good of the whole kingdom. It meant the servant no longer needed to extract the money from the peasants. It meant the thugs no longer needed to beat them all into submission. It meant the gap between the rich and the poor could close just a small bit. It meant a new era of justice and peace could be ushered in. In the vision of Jesus of the reign of God, the king would join the servant in promoting healing and forgiveness throughout the kingdom, ending the cycle of violence once and for all. Just like Mary and Oshea as new mother and new son working together to heal their community through Mary’s non-profit organization in Minneapolis.

That was the hope many of us held in the early days after September 11^th, was it not? We lit candles of healing love, we donated blood in droves, we told story after story of the “heroes among us”: of fire department chaplain Father Mychal Judge administering last rites to a dying firefighter just before he died, himself; of the “man in the red bandana” who led people to safety on the 104^th floor; of the director of security for Morgan Stanley, who had developed a rigorous evacuation plan prior to September 11^th for the 22 floors in the south tower occupied by his company. 2500 employees left the building alive, following the sound of his voice on a bullhorn. He had even begun to break into song in order to lift up their spirits as they escaped.

Story after story lifted all of our spirits in the early days after September 11^th, when we pulled together as a nation, when we clung to the best that was in us in order to drown out the worst that had befallen us. And the entire world rallied to our side because the entire world was impacted right along with us. Thirty-three countries lost citizens that day. (And that is only counting the ones who were “documented.”) For me, September 11, 2001 was the final event that propelled me into the ordained ministry. I saw how religion was being used for evil—and not just the religion of Islam—I saw how religion was stoking violence rather than promoting peace, and I wanted my life to be about proclaiming the radical decision to end the cycle of violence once and for all that Jesus describes in the parallel of the forgiving king. Even if we only know it just for a brief moment. Because sometimes the brief moment is all we will ever know.

Some would say we have strayed beyond all measure from the hope and the goodness that emerged from the chasm that was September 11^th. Some wonder if we gave in too far to the temptations of anger and fear that we have no hope of reclaiming our souls.

I think the gospel says something different.

It took ten years for Mary to forgive Oshea, but she finally came around to it. The moment of healing could come, though, only after she was honest about her grief, only after she was honest about her pain, only after she was honest about her anger. But when the moment came to forgive, she was ready. She found a way to let go. And her letting go released the one who had wounded her so deeply. And if they can do it, so can we.

It may take a lot longer than ten years to forgive something as traumatic as the terror of September 11^th. It may take a lot longer than ten years to resurrect the best that is in us that emerged on that day. It may take a lot longer than ten years for the cycle of violence we have accepted as “just the way things are” will turn into the reign of God ending violence once and for all.

But if we learn anything from the story of Mary and Oshea, if we learn anything from the story of the forgiving king and the unforgiving servant, if we learn anything from the stories of September 11, 2001, what we know for sure is that forgiveness is a process and not a final product. What we know for sure is that good can win over evil in the end. What we know for sure is that all of us—every one of us—stand desperately in need of God’s grace. I have often considered that Jesus tells us to forgive seventy-times-seven times because it takes that long to get it right.

Jesus was, after all, responding to a question from Peter about how to live together as a small community of believers, in the heart of an empire that had not yet grasped the vision of the reign of God, that was still—just like us—caught up in the cycle of unending violence that rendered every one of them helpless to despair.

But with you, Jesus tells Peter, with you, Jesus tells the gathered community that is the church, with you it is different. With you, the reign of God has already taken root. With you, the practice of forgiveness in the small things must be front and center, seventy times seven times: naming the hurt and pain and anger, to be sure, but coming out on the other side as better people, stronger people, more hopeful people. Because once you have practiced forgiving the small things, Jesus implies in this parable, then you just might be able to forgive the big things. And what better place to start practicing than the church?

The church, according to our Presbyterian Constitution, is “the provisional demonstration of the kingdom of God,” the community that has claimed the alternative vision of Christ as its own, the community that has said we want our lives to be about healing and hope and yes, even forgiveness, responding to the grace of the benevolent, messianic king in the parable. Responding to the real-life witness of Mary and Oshea in Minneapolis. Responding to the priest who gave his life tending the immortal soul of another. The church is the place where we say we do not want to be bound up in anger and vengeance and violence and victimization anymore. It is the place where we say we are family—every one of us, God’s family—and God has given us a new lease on life.

In the church, we still dare to believe that forgiveness and healing really are possible. That a new life together really is possible. That whatever pain we have caused, that whatever pain we have endured, God still can make one family of us all. God still work all things together for good. God still can make a resurrection out of any crucifixion!

So let’s be the “provisional demonstration of the kingdom of God” together on this tenth anniversary of September 11^th, on this first Sunday of our new ministry together, claiming the grace of God grace as our own, speaking the truth in love to another, praying for a spirit of repentance and respect in our dealings with one another. Because if we do that—when we do that!—I promise you the world around us will start to follow suit. And the radical reign of God that was the vision of Jesus will start to take root beyond our walls. And the violence and the suffering we think is inevitable will one day be no more. And the world will truly, one day, be at peace.

I pray it may be so.

Amen.

Praying When You Don't Know How

2011-07-27T17:21:00.001-05:00

Texts: Luke; 11:1-13 Romans 8:26-39

In a small Texas town, a new bar/tavern started a building to open up their business. The local Baptist church started a campaign of petitions and prayers to block the bar from opening.

Work progressed, however right up till the week before opening, when a lightning strike hit the bar and it burned to the ground.

The church folks were rather smug in their outlook after that, till the bar owner sued the church on the grounds that the church was ultimately responsible for the demise of his building, either through direct or indirect actions or means. The church vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection to the building's demise in its reply to the court.

As the case made its way into court, the judge looked over the paperwork. At the hearing he commented, 'I don't know how I'm going to decide this, but as it appears from the paperwork, we have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer, and an entire church congregation that doesn't.'

I am sure that not everyone at Madison Square PC is comfortable about their prayer life, or that even those of you who pray, won’t find ways to expand your understanding and repertoire of prayer. The point to this sermon is to help everyone feel good about growing stronger in your use of prayer as a part of your life of faith.

In this morning’s reading, Paul says this:

ROM 8:26-27: In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit itself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And God who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.

Paul is telling us God even helps us pray when words fail us; God helps us pray when we don't know how; God helps us pray when prayer is far from our lips.

Paul is affirming that since the Christian has become part of the body of Christ, the indwelling Holy Spirit is active in each of us. At some point in our faith journey we have made the affirmation that we will reorient our lives to become Christ centered instead of self Centered. Maybe it was at baptism, or at confirmation, or when we joined the church, or at some other turning point in life that we took seriously the acceptance of God as the center of our life. That change, that turn-around from self-centeredness to Christ-centeredness is what makes the difference in how we pray, and how the Holy Spirit prompts us in our praying.

So, Paul’s affirmation is that the Spirit of God that dwells within us touches our spirit and leads us to pray even before we know what to say, or form the prayers on our lips. The Holy Spirit prompts us in our prayers.

So, now that I have told you that your prayers to God are prompted by God, how does that help you pray, even when you don’t know how?

1. Prayer is about Loving.

When you talk about prayer, or think about prayer, imagine a frame around the picture of that talk. The frame around prayer is love. Prayer is lover’s talking to each other. The poet Samuel Coleridge in his poem, the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner," says "He prayeth well, who loveth well." Effective pray-ers are effective lovers. We are not talking about prayer as a duty, as an obligation, as something we do only when our back is forced against the wall. Praying comes from falling in love.

God first loved us--that is why The Spirit of God initiates the communication within us. That is why God's Spirit works its way into us, and wraps itself around our own Spirit. "

God loves us. That is why God's Spirit is within you saying "speak to me. Talk to me. Don't think you have to go it alone. I love you. Let’s talk." Prayer is the singing of love songs between God and ourselves. And the more we pray our love song, the deeper the love grows. How many couples do you know who love each other but never speak? Or, how many people do you know who fall in love with each other, never having spoken a word to each other. Neither happens. Maybe you find yourself in the position of not feeling either loved by God, or loving God. Well, the love won’t emerge without talking, without prayer. Talking to God and Listening for God is part of the courtship. Prayer is the way you fall in love. And prayer is the way lovers stay in love.

For a lot of people, God is not their lover, but their butler. Most prayer is telling God what to do for them, or asking for God to help them with their agenda. God is the great butler—and prayer is a long, “gimme, gimme, gimme.” This relationship doesn’t last very long.

Previously, I have quoted a remarkable 17^th century monk, Brother Lawrence, who wrote beautifully about the loving way we can relate to God, and how to pray. Let us look at what he said,

It is not necessary to be always in church to be with God, we can make a private chapel of our heart where we can retire from time to time to commune with God, peacefully, humbly, lovingly; everyone is capable of these intimate conversations with God, some more, others less; God knows what we can do. Let us begin—perhaps God is only waiting for a a single generous resolution from us…Become accustomed then little by little to adore God in this way: demand of Him His grace; offer Him your heart from time to time during the day in the midst of your work…do not burden yourself with rules or particular devotions, but act with faith, love and humility.

You see, you and God can be lovers who talk to one another frequently throughout the day.

2. Pray as you can, not as you can’t.

You don't have to change anything. You don't have to learn anything. You don't have to be someone else. You don't have to "get right with God" first. Pray as you can.

Begin where you are, for God already knows where you are, and accepts you for who you are. Nothing else has to happen first. There is no such thing as a bad prayer. Any words will do.

Ann LaMott in her book, Traveling Mercies, speaks about prayer when she had a problem with her son. She says she sat down beside the river ,

I prayed to know what to do, and I kept thinking I was hearing an answer, but it was like a one-woman ping pong game; I decided yes, and I decided no and so on. I decided I was getting crazier every passing moment. So I called some friends. Half said yes, and half said no. But all the ones who believed in God told me to pray. So I did. Here are the two best prayers I know: “Help me, help me, help me.” And “thank you, thank you, thank you.” A woman I know says, for her morning prayer, “Whatever.” And then in the evening, “Oh, well.”

Are you angry. Tell it to God. Be angry, Shake your fist. Are you sad, worried, panicked, lost--tell it to God. Speak to God as you speak to a lover. Let your self be in God's presence just as you are. There is no point in pretending, because God knows what you are trying to hide if you pretend. So, let your prayers reflect who you are. Psalms 13,22, others; one third of Psalms are Laments--

Pray about your feelings, your needs for yourself, your needs for others, your joys, your concerns, your failings, and your consistent failures. In this form of simple prayer, the good, the bad and the ugly are all mixed up together. . In other words, in prayer, you will learn how to let it all hang out. God is ready. After all, God loves you.

You already know that communication leads to intimacy. And that is true with prayer. It is hard to be close to God in Christ without communication. Most people find their lives become rich when they open up the communication with the Christ within themselves

3. Silence is part of prayer. Prayer is about speaking to God, and listening for God to speak to you. Silence makes listening possible. If you don't know what to think or say, be still. Be quiet. The Psalmist said, "Be still, and know that I am God." Let the silence be your prayer. Let the arms of God be wrapped around you in comfortable silence--and just be there. In the silence you can listen for God to speak. Silence in prayer is okay. A lot happens in the silence of prayer. If you come to God and pray with words, then spend at least as much time or more listening in silence. In fact, I have found that often in silence I hear nothing. But amazingly, later in the day or week, I hear the very thing I was praying for or about on the lips of someone. God spoke not in the silence, but the silence made me ready to hear God in the words of someone.

4. For Presbyterians Private Prayer is always apart of our corporate prayer as the body of Christ., That is, what we do here together in prayer and worship is the model and basis for what we do privately in prayer and worship.

Let me end with a few comments and suggestions about prayer here at Madison Square Presbyterian Church.

a. Look at your morning order of worship. Notice on the first page that we pray the “Confession”. In Presbyterian worship we will always begin with bringing praise and thanksgiving to God—usually by singing. Then we will offer a prayer called “Confession”. In many churches is is called “Confession of Sin.” But I am one who sees it more as a confession of “who God is and who we are”. Therefore, while I am here, our prayer of confession will always start with some kind of acknowledgment of God’s Grace and Goodness, or gratitude for blessings, and that we are the forgiven children of God in whom God delights. Our relationship is wonderful, and intimate. Then, there will be a “yet” or “but” in which we speak to God of the difficulties of life and the trials we have to bear—we state our failings, or our brokenness, or our weakness. You get the picture. “Great to be home Papa…but I wrecked the car this week.”

Our prayer of confession is then followed by an “Assurance of Grace”. The promise is given of God’s grace healing our broken lives, mending our hearts, forgiving us, and making whole again. Some churches call this “assurance of pardon.” The word “pardon” is a bit narrow and doesn’t convey what I think is given to us in this wonderful act of restoring us to our fullness as “a new creation in Christ.”

b. Corporate prayer is about each of us, but not only about each of us. It is about all of us; we pray on behalf of all of humanity—this is “our prayer” of the brokenness of human relationships of all of us around the world. It is me. But not just me for I am a part of all of humanity—and they are a part of me. I ask forgiveness for me, but not just for me, but for all; peace and wholeness are given to me; but these are the gifts I ask for all of humanity. I cannot separate myself from all the rest of humanity as broken in need of wholeness. So prayer is corporate.

The pattern was set by Jesus. The Lord’s prayer begins with ”our Father” and every pronoun in it is plural. So, the pattern of prayer is found in the worshipping community every Sunday morning as we pray together. It is never just about me, but always our prayer is about all of us.

A Grandfather passed his granddaughter's room one night and overheard her repeating the letters of the alphabet in a strange and reverent way. He stopped and listened, then asked her, "What are you doing?" She said, "I'm saying my prayers, but I can't think of the right words tonight, so I'm just saying the letters. God will put them together for me, because he knows what I'm thinking."

That's pretty good--and that little girl said just what Paul wrote to the church in Rome. When we don't know what to pray for, or how, the Spirit intercedes on our behalf--and prays the prayer we don't yet know.

Luke 11:1-13

11He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.’ ²He said to them, ‘When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
   Your kingdom come.
³   Give us each day our daily bread.
⁴   And forgive us our sins,
     for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
   And do not bring us to the time of trial.’

5 And he said to them, ‘Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, “Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; ⁶for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.” ⁷And he answers from within, “Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.” ⁸I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.

9 ‘So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. ¹⁰For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. ¹¹Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? ¹²Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? ¹³If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!’

Romans 8:26-27 The Message

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

Things to Do and Places to Go

2011-06-22T18:33:00.003-05:00

Things to Do and Places to Go

Text: John 3:1-17; Romans 8:5-14 (Reading from Eugene Peterson’s translation, The Message)

Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them—living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God. Anyone completely absorbed in self ignores God, ends up thinking more about self than God. That person ignores who God is and what he is doing. And God isn't pleased at being ignored.

9-11But if God himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. But for you who welcome him, in whom he dwells—even though you still experience all the limitations of sin—you yourself experience life on God's terms. It stands to reason, doesn't it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he'll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus, bringing you alive to himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With his Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's!

12-14So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!

Let me highlight the heart of what I have just read. Listen again:

Obsession with self is a dead end. Attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God... When God lives and breathes in you, you are delivered from that dead life. With Christ's spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's. ..the best thing for you to do is give your old self-centered, do-it-yourself life a decent burial, and get on with your new life. God's spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go.

Well that pretty much sums up the basic meaning of the gospel.

Unless we can get our ego out of the way, we will continue to live in a dead end life.

Unless we die to self, we will not rise to new life. We will live in a dead end.

If you want to follow Jesus, you have to get ego out of the way so the Spirit can come in and take over. God is in charge, not your ego.

If there is no death of ego, there is no Spirit filled life. So, let go, and let God.

I wonder what it is like for each of you. I know what it is like for me.

It is damn hard to get ego out of the way. I struggle with it every day. How is it with you?

Jesus said the only way is that we must undergo a “death”. That is why he said we have to daily take up our cross to follow him. Unless the self dies, we will seldom live in the here and now. We will seldom live in the present where God is. That part of our self we call the “ego” always takes us to some other place, to some other time. In fact many of you sitting here now are not present—you have been lost in the past, or running off to the future after church is out, or you have been off somewhere doing something else. Your ego has split you into a divided person, and you are seldom all present. Your heart is divided, you mind is filled with many things. And part of you says you want to know God better, to have God touch your life. You want to walk with Christ.

But, our thinking, planning, self-serving ego is in charge and it is busy controlling our life. As long as this is true, we will miss seeing the Christ in our presence, we will miss the movement of the Holy Spirit blowing around us, we will miss the touch of God. The abundant life promised by Jesus will elude us.

Don't take me for a fool when I say this. But the reality is that your “head” may lead you into the greatest success story of your family, or of your school classmates, or of your fondest dreams. Strong egos are good achievers. But you will be living a dead end life, and miss the adventure of life with God. There are places to go and things to do that you can not even imagine as long as our ego is in charge.

Have you found that being religious isn’t really much of a help? You go to church, you give you money, put in some time, maybe sing in the choir, say a prayer now and then. But all the words, all the ritual, doing all the right things–and you still wonder if God even notices. Is God even around? The more religious we are, don’t we expect God to hang around more often? I mean, why not? If some people talk to God every day, and some people talk to God only once a month–where do you think God is going to hang around?

But I have found it doesn’t work out that way. Being religious doesn’t guarantee a difference.

That’s what Nicodemus found out. John’s gospel says that Nicodemus was a Pharisee, one of the leaders. He knew the Law, and he lived with a religious discipline. People followed him. But something was wrong. Being religious left him wondering what he had to do to be close to God. He was religious, but he did not have the Spirit. Jesus figured him out right away. Here is a man who is living a religious life and yet is missing out on the whole thing. Even with all his religion He has missed the kingdom of God. He has not breathed the Spirit. He has not been filled with the Spirit.

Jesus said, “Nicodemus, you must be born from above. From the Spirit.”

This was not a good week for Nicodemus. He came to see Jesus, and was looking for a way to be close to God, and Jesus talks to him about being filled with the Spirit to be born from above.

And so Nicodemus missed it–religious man that he was— he missed it all.

“What are you saying with this 'born-from-above' talk?" He asks Jesus.

Isn’t that our question too? Isn’t that what we ask on most days.

Here I am Lord!, Where are you?

Are you walking with me? Are you working with me?

Are you running beside me? Here I am, Lord.

What do I have to do to know you are with me, here?

Oh yes, we are a lot like Nicodemus–we carry our religion around with us from day to day–say our prayers from time to time; worship on some Sundays and count it worthwhile. We want to think our baptism was enough–after all, we had the water on our heads, the preacher said the right words.

David Adam says in our REFLECTION FOR WORSHIP, “We have a little bit of faith, a few beliefs, some grasp the story of Jesus, some even know a few parables. But it can hardly be called an immersion. We dip in now and again when we feel like it. It’s a strange relationship with our God. It could hardly be called a “love affair.”

A love affair! Isn't that what you want? Instead of being a dipper, to be a lover!

What is Madison Square like, after all? Are we dippers or lovers?

Brother Lawrence was a 17^th century monk who mostly worked in the monastery kitchen. But he became famous for the letters he wrote to people inquiring about matters of faith. Those letters are collected into a little book title, Practice of the Presence of God. In it he writes about the immersion into faith, the love affair with God. Listen to his words:

It is not necessary to always be in church to be with God, we can make a private chapel of our heart where we can retire from time to time to commune with him, peacefully, humbly, lovingly; everyone is capable of these intimate conversations with God, some more some less. God knows what we can do…Become accustomed then, little by little to adore God in this way: demand of God his grac; offer him your heart from time to time during the day in the midst of your work, at every moment you can…

How do we immerse ourselves? How do we learn the practices of faith to be present with God?

When you come to church, is this the place where you learn how to get your “ego self” out of the way so you can be present with God?
Is this the place where you learn the disciplines of meditation to silence the mind so you can hear the Spirit whisper?
Is this the place where prayer comes alive and you not only speak to God, but become practiced in listening to God as well.
Is this the place where you learn to love and not fake it?
Is this the place where you learn the meaning of serving others instead of serving self? Where self-centeredness is left outside the door?
Is this the place where you learn how to bring justice into all relationships, both private and public?
Is this the place where you discover what it means to be born from above to be led by the holy spirit?
Is this the place where you learn the practice of holy reading, lectio divina, so God can speak to you in the reading of scripture or other texts?

Learning these practices is what the church community is for. Are we there yet?

Is it happening here? It can.

What kind of church might we become if we were to be filled with the Spirit? There is a book titled Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations. The fruitful congregation practices “radical hospitality,” it has “passionate worship,” it does “intentional faith development,” it is involved in “risk-taking mission and service,” and it practices “extravagant generosity”.

The disciple came to the Master and said, “Will these disciplines you are teaching me lead to enlightenment?”

“No more than they will cause the sun to rise,” the Master said.

“Then why are you teaching them to me?”

“So that you will be awake when the sun rises.”

There is nothing holding you back from becoming any kind of church community you want to be. There is nothing holding you back from reaching out and embracing each other and creating a strong community of faith. The lid is off of Madison Square Church.

You know this song, so join in singing with me, “Day by Day” . (Day by day, dear Lord, three things I pray, to see thee more clearly, to love thee more dearly, to follow thee more nearly, day by day).

Jesus speaks to us, even as he answered Nicodemus:

Oh, Nicodemus, you are not hearing me. You are a respected religious leader, but you only listen with your ears. You are not listening with your heart–so you have not understood the ways of God. Your ego hears the ways of the world. But your heart hears the ways of the Spirit. It is the Spirit that you seek. It is the Spirit that brings life. It is the Spirit that gives you new birth. It is the Spirit that comes like the wind blowing free and unannounced, and uncontrolled. Like the wind, you breathe it in and let it fill you and transform you. Like the wind, you do not see the Spirit, but you feel it. Open your heart, Nicodemus. Let the Spirit fill you with trust:

Trust me. Trust my life, trust my death, trust my resurrection,

trust my Father in Heaven who loves you.

Let the Spirit fill you and lead you into a new life of adventure.

God has things for you to do, and places for you to go.

Tell God you are ready, Nicodemus. Say to God,

“Here I am. God. Take me. Take my Day. Take my life. ”

Take me in, send me out.

Trust God, Nicodemus. Listen with your heart for the Spirit.

Pentecost: Come to the Party

2011-06-12T22:05:00.000-05:00

Texts: Acts 2:1-21; Romans 8:12-17

God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!

15-17This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are.

What kind of church do belong to? I mean, what describes our church?

This morning I want to talk to about belonging to a church that is adventurously expectant, that is exciting, that is festive, that celebrates. I want to talk to you about belonging to a church where all kinds of people are welcome; not just your kind of people, or my kind, but where all kinds of people are welcome.

I want us to think about belonging to a church that is more like a party than a meeting. When you think about church, I want you to think about inviting all kinds of people to a wonderful party. Where people say, “what's next, Papa?”

Let me share a story about that kind of church.

Tony Campolo is a sociologist at Eastern College in Pennsylvania. I want to share a Tony Campolo story. Once he was invited to speak at a conference in Honolulu. He flew from the East Coast to Honolulu and found himself wide awake at 3:00 am. So, he went out for something to eat. He found a little greasy spoon restaurant open and went in and sat down on one of the stools at the counter.

The fat guy behind the counter came over and asked, "What d'ya want?"

"A cup of coffee and a doughnut."

He poured the coffee, and put a doughnut on the counter. Then, the door of the diner flew open and in marched eight or nine provocative and boisterous prostitutes. It was a small place, and so they filled the counter stools all around him and started talking.

Just about the time Tony got up to leave, the woman sitting next to him said, "Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm going to be thirty-nine."

Her friend responded in a nasty tone, "So what do you want from me? A birthday party? What do you want? Ya want me to get you a cake and sing 'Happy Birthday?"

"Come on!", the first woman said, "Do you have to be so mean?" I was just telling you, that's all. You don't have to put me down. I don't want anything from you. Why should you give me a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"

When Tony heard that, he made a decision. He sat there until the woman left, then called over to the fat guy behind the counter and asked him, "Do they come in here every night?

"Yeah," he answered.

"The one right next to me, does she come in here every night?"

"Yeah! That's Agnes, yeah, she comes in every night. Why d'ya want to know?"

"Because I heard her say that tomorrow is her birthday. What do you say you and I throw a birthday party for her-right here-tomorrow night."

A smile came across his face and he said, "That’s a great idea. Lets do it."

So Tony agreed to get decorations, and Harry, the guy behind the counter, agreed to make a cake. At 2;30 the next morning Tony was back in the restaurant with crepe paper decorations and big cardboard letters that said "Happy Birthday, Agnes." The whole dinner was decorated from one end to the other.

They must have put the word out on the street, because by 3:15 it seemed like every prostitute in Honolulu was there. Wall to wall prostitutes, and Tony.

At 3:30 the door opened in in came Agnes with a girl friend. Tony gave the signal and everybody screamed, "Happy Birthday."

Agnes was flabbergasted...stunned....shaken. Her mouth fell open. She sat down on one of the stools, and everybody sang "Happy Birthday." Her eyes got all misty and moist. Then they carried out the cake with all the candles aflame, and Agnes lost it and just cried.

Finally Harry said, "Blow out the candles Agnes. Come on. If you don't I will." She sat and looked at them, finally she did. Then Harry handed her a knife and said,

"Yo, Agnes, cut the cake. We all want some cake."

Agnes looked at the cake. Then slowly said, "Look Harry, is it all right with you if I...I mean is it okay if I kind of...well, is it okay if I keep the cake a little, I mean, if we don't eat it right away?"

Harry, shrugged and said, "Sure! If you want to keep the cake, keep the cake. Take it home if you want to."

Agnes looked around and said, "I just live down the street. I want to take the cake home. okay? I'll be right back. Honest!"

She picked up the cake, and carrying it like it was the Holy Grail, walked slowly toward the door. Everyone just stood there motionless. She left.

When the door closed there was a stunned silence. Not knowing what else to do, Tony broke the silence and said, "What do you say we pray?"

Well, Tony admits it was kind of a dumb thing to do. But he prayed for Agnes, for God to be good to her, for her life to be changed.

When he finished, Harry leaned over the counter and said with some hostility in his voice, ""Hey, you never told me you were a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?"

Tony said, "I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at 3:30 in the morning."

Harry waited a moment, then almost sneered as he said, "No you don't. There's no church like that. If there was, I'd join it. I'd join a church like that!"

Wouldn't we all?

Wouldn't we all love to join a church that throws birthday parties at 3:30 in the morning for the outcasts and the left out ones, and those who have never had a party?"

Wouldn't we all love to be a part of a church where grace reaches across barriers and divisions and touches the lives of all kinds of people to give them joy and worth and dignity?

Did you notice in Luke's story in the reading from Acts who was in Jerusalem that day? Did you notice who came to the party ?

Luke says it was everybody. People from all nations gathered at Pentecost, the celebration of the Feast of Weeks. This was a harvest festival bringing the first fruits of harvest to offer to God. Jewish males gathered from all over the world to bring their offering to the Temple. It was a holy day.

Luke gives us a role call of the nations. Strange nations with funny sounding names;

Persians, Parthians, Cappadocians, Phrygians,

Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians. Cretans

What the author is telling us in this passage is that people were there from everywhere, every tongue and tribe. The Tower of Babel is reversed in this story. Once God scattered the proud. Now God reunites all people and all tongues. The fractured, broken, divided, alienated people who did not speak the same language, and often were at war with each other-they were all there.

And then, at something like 9:00 that morning, while they were gathered in one place, the wind came up, and that holy wind blew through the room and

blew across their nationalities, and

blew through their differences, and

blew into their nostrils and filled their divided hearts with fire and set their tongues in motion, and

they spoke words to each other, and

everyone understood, for the fire burned the words into their hearts, and

they wept, they sang, they remembered who they were:

they were the children of the God of Love,

they were the chosen people of the God of Joy;

they were the holy people of the God of Jesus, the Christ.

That mighty Wind of Fire and Spirit created the church that day.

A church that was born when the Holy Spirit overcame the divisions and barriers that keep people apart, and made them one body in Jesus Christ.

On that day of Pentecost, the celebration was so joyful, the carrying on was so remarkable, that outside observers thought they were drunk even though it was early in the morning!

Well, that is the kind of Church Jesus came to create. That is what this morning's texts are all about. The church is a party where everybody is included.

People from all the nations:

the Mexicans, the Indians, the Germans, the Ethiopians, the Koreans,

the Pakistanis, the Viet Namese, the Iraqis, Iranians, and the Americans

People from all stations in life—prostitutes, and lepers, and tax collectors, lonely people, old people, awkward adolescents, gay and straight, stressed out business people, professors and teachers, janitors, jailors and musicians.

Jesus came to have a party.

He included the people who have been left out.

So he ate with them and drank with them, and told stories to them, and did whatever was necessary to make them feel accepted and whole and worth a party.

The kind of church I think you and I want to be a part of began with Jesus including everybody. And before he was finished, he prepared a feast for everyone to be invited to gather around the table, and eat and drink and become one in the love they shared in God.

And then, when he left us, he sent the Holy spirit to break down the barriers between us, to open our hearts so we can understand each other, and love each other, and continue the party in his name.

That's the kind of church Jesus had in mind.

Is that the kind of church you want to belong to?

Is that the kind of church you could invite others to belong to?

Madison Square can be that kind of “adventurously expectant church every week of the year if we do just three things.

First, We can be that kind of church if we let this same Holy spirit lead us in sharing our faith in Jesus Christ with each other. Open your hearts to each other. Share your story of pain and joy and faith. Meet together, Talk together about your faith in God. All kinds of people can join Madison Square Presbyterian Church. When there is caring and sharing of faith, there is fire of the the Spirit.

Second, we can be that kind of church if we let the Holy Spirit lead us in sharing our faith with folks outside our church. Open your hearts to those you are with during the week. People are waiting to hear good news. Tell them the exciting good news about Christ, about your faith. People want to hear your good news. Tell them what you have found to be true.

Third, invite them to the party. Tell them you would like them to come to a wonderful party, and invite them to come with you to Madison Square. Everyone is welcome here. We are all here because the Holy Spirit brought us together. No one is excluded. Who do you know that you can invite to the party? They are welcome here.

"There's no church like that," Harry said. "If there was, I'd join it."

And so would I. And so would you.

Open your hearts to the Holy Spirit.

Come to the party. This party is for you.

Sermon preached May 29th: When Christians Must Say No

2011-06-10T16:51:00.001-05:00

TEXT: 1 Peter 2:11-17 (The Message)

11-12Friends, this world is not your home, so don't make yourselves cozy in it. Don't indulge your ego at the expense of your soul. Live an exemplary life among the natives so that your actions will refute their prejudices. Then they'll be won over to God's side and be there to join in the celebration when he arrives.

13-17Make the Master proud of you by being good citizens. Respect the authorities, whatever their level; they are God's emissaries for keeping order. It is God's will that by doing good, you might cure the ignorance of the fools who think you're a danger to society. Exercise your freedom by serving God, not by breaking the rules. Treat everyone you meet with dignity. Love your spiritual family. Revere God. Respect the government.

(Take box out and stand on it.)What do you see?

Yes, I am standing in a box. Let's say this box is my religion. It is the set of beliefs and perspectives, prejudices, values and hopes that I use to interpret and make sense of my world. As I grow, the box grows. Everyone has their own worldview, their own religion, their own box. Most of the time we see the world and ourselves from within our box of beliefs. Sometimes we change change boxes. We convert or adopt a different set of values and beliefs. Then we stand in a different religion box.

(Step out and step on the box). Now, what do you see?

Yes, I am standing on the box. I have stepped outside my box, my religious values hopes and beliefs, and am now standing on them. I haven't left them, but now I am viewing the world rather outside that perspective. Furthermore, I have turned my views upside down, and so the world looks different. This allows me to compare my values, beliefs and world view with other religions, other views. I have my own perspective on which I stand, but now it doesn't confine, but allows me to make comparisons, choices, changes, analyze and evaluate.

With this all too simple illustration, I want to make several quick points about the boxes we all have, and how they function in our lives.

Most of us grow and mature in our religious beliefs and values and perspectives, and therefore we must often get larger or different boxes. Look back over your years, and you might see boxes you left behind. Our boxes offer peace, clarity and protection—but often when we are fearful we use the box of our beliefs to hide or to fight.
Most religious talk, and religious confessions of faith are written from inside a box in order to make sense of the world outside. Theology and confessions are attempts to make the box and the world compatible for believers. Often confessions are written to strengthen the walls of the box when there is confusion, major threats or change. Such language is often used to teach and pass on the world view gained in the struggle to make sense.
Learning how to stand outside and on top of the box enables analysis, evaluation, and change. Dialogue with other religions and views is most possible from this position. In fact it is what great reformers have done, in order to bring great changes. It is pretty much what Jesus did. It is also what good teachers do—they help people stand outside their box to see options, possibilities and answers that they can then bring into their box with new insight.
If you don't know how to stand on your box, or don't know where to stand, it is hard to make change, make progress, to grow with insight and understanding. Christians need to be comfortable both standing in their belief box, and on their belief box. That is how we gain spiritual maturity in a changing world.

Now, I want to talk about one of the great struggles Christians have in dealing with the world, and one of he great church confessions written as a result.

Is there a time when we as Christians must say "No" as well as "Yes" to the culture and the government in which we live?

Is it harder to live as a Christian in a country where the Government and culture is contrary to the values of the Christian faith? Or where the Government and culture seems friendly to the values of the christian faith?

You read those words with me from the ancient text of 1Peter:

Friends, this is not your home, so don't make yourselves cozy in it…

Make the Master proud of you be being good citizens. Respect authorities whatever their level; they are God's emissaries for keeping order. Exercise your freedom by serving God, and not breaking the rules….Revere God. Respect the government.

This is not your home so don't get cozy, but don't rock the boat.

Can you sense the tension between the first part and the second part of Peter's advice to the early church? It is the tension of the Christian living as an alien in a culture whose values do not conform to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

That was the wisdom for the first century Christian church which was struggling to survive in a hostile culture. If you were Christian, you may lose your life. The apostle Peter was crucified--but he insisted on being hung upside down, not seeing himself worthy of dying like his Lord and Master.

Learn to say yes. "Don't rock the boat."

Live at peace with those around you. The government is there to keep order. It is how God works in the world to make life possible.

For the most part, you and I have grown up in an America assuming that American values and Christian values are the same. We have been raised to think that being a Christian and being a Successful American are the same thing.

It has not been hard to say "yes" to the American culture, or our political leaders.

But, this morning, we have a much more significant question to answer.

At what point in our life as a Christian, must we say "No"?

At what point do we say "no" to the authority of our leaders?

And at what point do we say "no" to the underlying cultural values of our society that empower our leaders? When and How do we say "no""

For all the Presbyterian Churches in the World--all the Churches that have their history in what is called the Reformed Faith, for all these churches, this weekend has a special meaning. For all of our Church family, we remember May 29-30 as the Anniversary of the Declaration of Barmen.

The Barmen Declaration is a part of the Book of Confessions which we Presbyterians use to define who we are as a Christian Community. It is part of our constitution, and it is part of the story we tell ourselves.

On May 29 1934, there were 139 clergy and lay persons who met in Barmen-Wuppertal in northern Germany. Because of the growing totalitarian reach of Adolf Hitler's government, and his hostility to the church, these Christians felt compelled to take a stand to resist. They needed to be clear about about several issues:

Who is Lord over our lives-God or the state?

What is the relation of the church to the state--servant or separate?

How is God revealed to us--in the bible or in history?

The Barmen Declaration is the statement they made in answer to these questions.

Most of you know the story of the rise of Hitler. As a young man in 1919 right after World War I he founded the National Socialist Party dedicated to "race, blood and soil."

As the Nazi Party gained strength, many Christians joined the party and formed a faith movement in 1932 under the Party, called "German Christians." They believed in the principles of the party, and in a strong German state. They did not seek God's revelation of truth in the scripture, but in history: God's saving work could be seen in Hitler, and the divine election of God for the place of the German people in history.

What did these Christians believe?

Germany shall rise to new strength;
Germany shall lead the nations into a world order;
Germany has the divine favor of God on her side.

(If this sounds familiar to Americans, it should. These same ideas have been goals for our own country at different times in our history.)

In public Adolph Hitler was a strong advocate of The Christian faith and the church. Christianity and German culture were almost equated. In one of his speeches he promised,

"The national government ... will maintain and defend the foundations on which the power of our nation rests. It will offer strong protection to Christianity as the very basis of our collective morality." - Adolf Hiter, The Speeches of Adolph Hitler, 1922-1939, Vol. 1 (London, Oxford University Press, 1942), pg. 871-872.

Later, he made an even stronger appeal to Christians, equating the Christian faith with the strong moral position of Nazi Germany, against the immorality identified in society. He said

"Today Christians ... stand at the head of Germany ... I pledge that I never will tie myself to parties who want to destroy Christianity .. We want to fill our culture again with the Christian spirit ... We want to burn out all the recent immoral developments in literature, in the theater, and in the press - in short, we want to burn out the poison of immorality which has entered into our whole life and culture as a result of liberal excess during the past ... (few) years." Adolf Hitler. Ibid, pg. 871-872. By Michael Hakeem, Ph.D.

One of the amazing realities of Nazi Germany was that most of the people, most of the Christians, bought this kind of talk making an alliance between Christianity and Nazi ideology. If you look at what Christianity teaches, you wonder how German Christians could support Naziism, Hitler's wars and the Holocaust. Not only did they occur, but with insignificant and wavering exceptions, neither theologians, clergy, nor ordinary Christians as individuals, nor churches as corporate bodies, objected. In fact they overwhelmingly supported them. Three of the most distinguished German Protestant theologians--Gerhard Kittel, Paul Althaus, and Emanual Hirsch. were highly respected, extremely erudite, uncommonly productive, and internationally known professors, each at a different, first-class university. Yet these and other Christian leaders, each supported Hitler openly, enthusiastically, and with little restraint."

Kittel and a group of twelve leading theologians and pastors issued a proclamation that Nazism is "a call of God," and they thanked God for Adolf Hitler.

By 1933 Hitler appointed Ludwig Muller, who was the leader of the "German Christians" to create a State Church, the "German Evangelical Church." All Protestant Churches were united into this single Evangelical State Church.

In September, 20,000 German Christians gathered in the Berlin Sports Palace to affirm the alliance between the church and the Nazi Party. One of the tasks of the Church was to keep the Arayan Race pure and free Germany from all non-German persons. That excluded Jews, gypsies, communists, and homosexuals.

It was against this overwhelming and large-scale movement of the German Christians into a State Church that a few pastors and churches began to form resistance that resulted in the Barmen Declaration.

Already in January, 1933, 21 pastors met and begin to develop a dissenting voice to this whole "German Christian" movement. They called themselves the "Pastor's Emergency League." By the September meeting in the Berlin Sports palace, there were 2300 pastors who had joined this resistance; and by January, 1934 there were 7000.

So, 139 pastors and leaders met in Barmen, May 29-30, 1934 to organize and alternative church to the state church. At that meeting they would adopt their own position, and become known as the Confessing Church. Turn to the part in the Order of Service, and lets look at the Declaration.

The first and second affirmation of the Declaration center on Jesus Christ as Lord. In Jesus Christ we see God and understand who we are. It is Jesus Christ we trust and obey in life and in death. It is in Jesus that we learn who we are and what is true. It is in Jesus that we find the freedom to serve God and others. The second affirmation states that the claim of Jesus on our life is total. No area of our life is outside his claim. Not our spending, not our buying, not our schooling and intellectual life, not our sexual life nor our loving; not our political life nor our citizenship; not our church life, nor our values. We can not be Christians, and hold out parts of our living as out of bounds. Jesus Christ accepts you totally; Christ forgives you totally; Christ heals you totally.

In contrast, the Germans looked to history to discover their destiny. They looked to the Arayan race to restore their purity. They looked to the military to find their strength.

So, Barmen raises issue the of where we find authority to in our lives, and affirms that it is with Jesus Christ, and not with lesser authorities.

The Christians in Barmen lead us to affirm Jesus Christ as the Word of God and Lord of our life.

The second lesson comes from the last four truths in the document. The Declaration of Barmen reminds us that our biggest problem is not atheism, but idolatry. Presbyterians have always believed that every person knows God. We believe God plants that knowledge within every human heart. But it is our sin and brokenness that covers it and suppresses it. And so instead of worshiping God, we create idols. We fill our lives with other loves to worship: the nation, a political party, our ethnic heritage, our family, or money, or alcohol, or drugs, or our business. We love our idols, and the sin of idolatry is always tempting us.

Four times the Declaration says: "We reject the false doctrine that...." Four times it names the false gods that swept a nation under their influence and led them into evil and destruction. Four times it takes a stand on the only one and true God, known in Jesus Christ. Four times it says, we belong only to God.

In short, Barmen said, "There is No führer but Jesus. No authority but the Scripture, and the church shall not function as a part of the state.

What does it take for us to join those Christians who gathered in Barmen and reject the idols that crowd into our life to claim our allegiance?

The Declaration of Barmen is powerful not because it was a good statement, because in some ways it wasn't. For instance, they didn't even address the issue about what was happening to the Jews, or those who were gay or lesbian. It was much too late to be of any consequence to Hitler and Nazi power. Nor did it greatly alter the life of the church.

But its power comes from the struggle of those Christians to live up to their principles. Its power is in the struggle to put faith into practice in a concrete historical moment and then to move from words to deeds.

Ultimately, this is the importance of Barmen for us today. The lesson from the Barmen Christians is about making our faith come alive in our daily struggle against power and authority that suck us along paths we can not affirm, nor believe in. Barmen gives us a lesson about engaging the politics and culture we live in.

We tend to think that our freedom is a political gift from the state. No, the reality we learn from Barmen is that religious freedom is prior to political freedom. Our Presbyterian Confession teaches us that our freedom is found in the grace and goodness of God. That is the basis of political freedom, not the other way around.

Once we are clear about that, we have the basis to engage our faith with the political struggles in our nation, and with our culture.

I am now asking the the ushers to hand to each of you a more modern statement. This is called “A Social Creed for the 21^st Century”. One hundred years ago in 1908 the Federal Council of Churches adopted a “Social Creed for the 20^th Century.” Many of its goals and values were addressed and achieved in the past century. This new creed was put together under the leadership of the National Council of Churches for the American Church community as a response to the overwhelming social issues that we have at the beginning of this century. This is not a “confession” of our church like the Declaration of Barmen. But it is a statement of our values and beliefs that was adopted by our General Assembly in 2008. Like most creeds, it is offered from inside the Christian box to guide Churches and individuals as they struggle to make a strong witness to their faith.

Like all creeds, it is not perfect. Read this one and you will note some issues are not addressed. It has been pointed out that as inclusive as this statement is, it has nothing in it about the LGBT community. But it does focus on a wide range of social issues.

For instance, look at its statement of support for the rights of unions—a timely statement after the recent political attacks on labor union's right to bargain.

I commend this Social Creed to you for your study and guidance in the days ahead, hoping that as Christians we can make a difference in the outcome of so many of these issues. Notice the power of the final paragraph;

We — individual Christians and churches — commit ourselves to a culture of peace and freedom that embraces non-violence, nurtures character, treasures the environment, and builds community, rooted in a spirituality of inner growth with outward action. We make this commitment together, as members

of Christ's body, led by the one Spirit-trusting in the God who makes all things new.

Our opening scripture today said, This is not your home so don't get cozy, but don't rock the boat.

So, where do you stand on the tough issues of today? Do you have a good box to stand in, and a good one to stand on? How does your box of faith prepare you to handle the many voices of our day pushing against us?

May this anniversary of the Declaration of Barmen inspire you to take a stand

that is not cozy with the world but a strong witness of your faith.1 Peter 2:11-17 (The Message)

John 14:15-21

15”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

18”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. 19In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 20On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. 21They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”