Mark 1:40-45 Risky Love and Anger

The tension continues to build as we continue to work our way through the first chapter of Mark’s gospel.  Yes – we are still on the first chapter!  But, hey, this is the Gospel of Mark, and one of the narrative’s most obvious characteristics is its immediacy, that sense of the rising crescendo of events:  And then...and then… and then. 

            

The tension builds.  Plans are adjusted.  Changes are made.  Exorcisms – like the demon-possessed man in the temple – and dramatic healings – like Simon’s mother-in-law with her fever – those sorts of events just do not fit into the mold of a gentle rabbi and a nice, quiet preaching ministry.   What is Jesus to do?

            

As we saw last week, the crowds in Capernaum insisted upon following Jesus expectantly – craving more miraculous healings and more dramatic exorcisms – more and more and more - until he said, “Enough, enough, enough, moving right along, moving right along, moving right along.           

As United Church of Christ pastor Kate Huey writes, “Perhaps (Jesus) doesn't want to be seen as a magician, or even to be known as a worker of miracles if that keeps people from hearing the message he proclaims, from coming to understand who he is.”

            

And so Jesus and the Twelve left Capernaum, the town that had almost begun to seem like home (what with those meals that Simon’s mother-in-law insisted upon preparing for them – what a good cook she was) – and they moved out into the countryside – down the dusty dirt road toward whatever it is that would come next.

            

I picture Jesus in my mind - heaving a great sigh of relief when the last hut on the outskirts of Capernaum disappeared over the rise of the road behind them.  Surely now the crowds would be gone.  Surely now the cries of the crippled, the blind, the oddballs, the doomed would be replaced by an almost blessed silence.  Surely now, they would be alone – just the rabbi and his little group of devotees.

           

And so it was.  But not for along.  Nothing in the Gospel of Mark is for long.  You see, down the road a piece, a man was walking their way – a man quite obviously not doing well. 

            

Patrick Oden describes the wretched fellow this way:  “He is extremely gaunt, and wearing what can only barely be called clothes.  These tatters are wrapped all around him, trying to cover seemingly every part of his body.  But the wind and their raggedness keep that an impossible task…White splotches cover what (the skin) underneath the rags.  Scabs and sores are everywhere.” 

            

It cannot be – but lo and behold it is - this man is a leper - in those ancient times, one known to be cursed by God, one whose sin is clearly shown for the world to see.”

            

It is perhaps instructive at this point for us to understand that the ailment that afflicted the unnamed man approaching Jesus was most likely not our modern day disease of leprosy.  You see, leprosy, as we know it, was practically non-existent in Palestine in Jesus’ day. 

            

Armed with that knowledge, this tale becomes a bit more nuanced when we realize that the man’s ailment might better be described as simply rough or scaly skin – less than perfect – perhaps pock-marked, acne-ed,  Runaway psoriasis maybe? 

Or untreated eczema?  Like your grandfather or uncle.  Like the friend of your teenaged son. 

            

Describe it as you will.  The man who brashly approached Jesus and his followers was, by social convention and religious dogma, a pariah, an outcast.  Here is how Presbyterian pastor Robert Elder describes the situation.

           

“The social taboos for lepers in Israel were powerful and frightening in their comprehensiveness. No leper, under any circumstances, was to approach a non-leper. Any time a person who was clean came near them, lepers were to stand off at a distance and shout, if they still had voices to shout with, "Unclean! Unclean!"

            

… Lepers were excluded from the general population and from any contact with the people of God. Participation in the religious life of the community was forbidden, any approach to the temple in Jerusalem was entirely out of the question. Rabbis of the time are known to have expressed opinions on the status of lepers, calling them living corpses whose cure was as difficult as resurrection of the dead.”

            

And yet, this dead man walking continued to approach Jesus.  And as he did, those close followers of the rabbi did something they would continue to do right up until the end.  They backed away.  They melted into the scenery even as Jesus took a step closer to the disfigured man. 

            

It was then that the man asked Jesus a most serious question.  He asked Jesus not to heal him but rather to make him clean – and therein lies a huge difference.  You see, only a Jewish priest can make someone clean.  After all, there are 32 verses in the Torah book of Leviticus explaining the only acceptable process that can lead to being clean.  Check it out – Leviticus 14. 

            

Now Jesus must make a decision.  Does he fly in the face of not only social convention but also religious laws regarding purity?  Some translations of this story tell us that pity showed on Jesus’ face at this point.  However, many Biblical scholars believe that the more accurate translation from the Greek is anger. 

            

And so, even as a flash of anger glimmered in Jesus’ eyes, he does what he has been called to do.  He steps right over those 32 verses in Leviticus into reimagining a social order where the rough and scaly skinned people – your grandfather or uncle, the friend of your teenaged son - the outcasts, the pariahs are no longer excluded.  

            

In fact, Jesus embraces that new world even as he embraces the leper before him.  Yes - Jesus touches the man – making himself unclean in the eyes of the temple hotshots in order that the lost may be found, the marginalized welcomed, the unclean clean. 

           

Of course, Jesus knows that a sudden healing of this sort will seem very suspicious and so with the best interest of the leper in mind, he urges him to go to the priest for confirmation.  Remember that only a priest could declare someone to be clean.  Remember those 32 verses in Leviticus 14. 

            

Realize, however, that the priests were not a cold-hearted lot determined to make life miserable and difficult for the Jewish people.  The priests were the ones who were ultimately responsible for keeping the community together and safe, for making it work in the midst of the pagan Roman Empire. 

            

No wonder Jesus the Jew sternly directed the man to go to the temple priests in order to be officially reinstated in the community.  However, instead the leper dances off joyfully, his glee something he could not keep inside.  And, really, do we blame him?

            

That is the essence of this little story.  However,  I want to briefly talk about two ideas that leap out at me as I ponder it.  The first is this anger business.  Why would Jesus have been angry?  And was he angry at the leper, or did something else get his dander up?

            

I suppose one could say that his anger was directed at the leper.  After all, the guy should have kept his distance and obeyed the rules.  By approaching Jesus, all he was doing was stirring up a lot of trouble and putting Jesus into a very difficult position.  It was almost surreal – the tattered sunken-eyed man coming closer and closer.  What was Jesus supposed to do – turn tail and run?

            

However, I am not so sure that it was the leper that made Jesus angry.  I have a feeling that if we had been there and had watched closely, we would have seen a flash of compassion in Jesus’ eyes before we saw the anger. 

            

You see, I think that Jesus’ anger was not directed at the leper, but was rather focused on the powers that had been created (and that we still create) that ultimately hold back all of creation – the values, the systems, the things we feel forced to do to one another to cope with and survive in this crazy world. 

            

And so in both risky love and anger, Jesus reached out and touched the man.  And that is the second thing I want to ponder.  Jesus begins to break the rules when he continues to walk toward an obviously ritually unclean, impure person.  And he smashes those rules to bits when he reaches out and touches the man. 

            

Jesus’ followers must have been aghast, horrified, so tied to their culture were they, to the way things are, have always been, and will forever be.  Yikes!  Imagine!  In contrast to all the social and religious mores, Jesus gives that leper a bear hug. 

            

What an act of faith – to not only re-imagine the world, but to take one small step to make it so.  What an act of courage – to build and rebuild relationships in radical ways, relationships between the clean and the unclean, between those who are in and those who are out.  What an act of blessed defiance – to jump right over all 32 verses in Leviticus 14 in order to welcome an outcast home, home to the community, in order to do what is right instead of what is easy.  What an act of risky love and anger.

Rev. Nancy Foran

Raymond Village Community Church

Raymond, ME

www.rvccme.org

           

            And so for us, there is a nagging symbolism in these five little verses in the earliest Gospel we have, in this story of Jesus and a nameless leper which has made its way into Holy Scripture, the Book on which we say we base our lives.  

            Jesus openly commits an act of risky love and anger.  He does not turn his back on a hurting world, but rather faithfully, courageously, and defiantly steps right into it and embraces it – in all its brokenness, in all its dirtiness, in all its pain.  May we as his followers be faithful enough, courageous enough, and defiant enough to do likewise.

            

Mark 1:29-39 Moving Right Along

            Once there was a man who went to his doctor because he really needed help with his snoring problem.  The doctor questioned him closely about it.

            “As soon as I go to sleep,” the man explained, “I begin to snore. It happens all the time.”  He was really quite desperate.  “What can I do, doctor, to cure myself?”

            The doctor then asked him, “Does it bother your wife?”

            “Oh,” the man answered, “it not only bothers her, but it disturbs the whole congregation.”

            

I guess this little story points out that one person’s behavior can indeed have a great impact on those around him or her.   And so it is in our Gospel story this morning – on two levels.  First, Jesus’ actions have an immediate and profound impact on the other characters in the tale – from Simon’s mother-in-law to the persistent crowds of people who followed him and his disciples.  And second, Jesus’ actions ought also to also have a profound impact on us as his latter day followers.

These verses from the Gospel of Mark are really two stories linked together in our lectionary, that is, in the verses assigned to us to read each Sunday.  There is first the healing story, which then leads into an account of Jesus trying to capture a few moments alone to pray – in a sense to re-calibrate or re-center himself – after all the activity of starting up his ministry.

            

“And then…and then….and then.”  You see, there is a certain immediacy about this particular Gospel, a rising crescendo of events.  We have not even completed the first chapter of this narrative, and already Jesus has been baptized, spent forty days in the wilderness dueling with his own temptations, called his disciples, exorcised an evil spirit in the midst of a presumably whiz bang sermon in the synagogue, healed Simon’s mother-in-law as well as all those who were sick and possessed of demons who were brought to him in the aftermath.  No wonder he yearned for a little time alone.

            

It was right after the incident in the synagogue with the possessed man ranting and railing that Jesus and his disciples hightailed it to Simon’s home – and that is where our story today picks up. 

Oh, they must have been surprised when the usual welcoming dinner table was not set and no fragrant odors of matzo ball soup and lamb ragout wafted out from the kitchen.

            

This is unusual!  What’s going on? Oh, no!  The woman of the house – Simon’s mother-in-law - was sick in bed with a fever – not a good thing in first century Capernaum – what with no aspirin and only a cool wet rag to bring down the body’s heat and sooth the anxious twisting and turning, the moaning and crying. 

            

Jesus, of course, went to her bedside.  Perhaps his mere presence calmed her a bit.  That we do not know, but what the Gospel writer does tell us is that Jesus reached out and took her hand.  “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand.” 

            

And stand she did, her fever gone.  She was healed.  And just so we know that it really happened that way, that the Gospel writer was not making the story up to bolster Jesus’ already burgeoning reputation, Mark provides us with a wonderful detail, a joy-filled aside. 

            

The old mother-in-law not only gets up, but then she goes about her first century womanly business – serving the men a full course meal – from soup to nuts. 

For some of us, that may be almost as much of a miracle as the healing itself.  But then again, maybe, as United Church of Christ pastor Kate Huey notes, Jesus and this unnamed woman give us a glimpse of what Jesus is really all about: wholeness, healing, service, humility.

            

However, moving right along….moving right along.  Word spreads fast in this first century town.  Texting and Facebook aside, when the sun had set and the Sabbath was officially concluded, people lined up outside Simon’s home – pushing, pulling, carrying, and offering an arm to the lame and the sick, the depressed, the oddballs, and the crazies. 

            

“Oh, Jesus, it is my head, my back, my knees, my feet.”  “Oh, Jesus, help me.  When it is morning, I want the night to come, and when the night comes, I only want it to be morning once again.  Jesus, help me.”

            

And Jesus began and then continued to heal the assembled motley crew sporting all sorts of ailments and diseases far into the night.  And when the last cripple had gone home and Jesus had no sooner shut his tired eyes, the first rosy inkling of dawn began to color the Eastern sky. 

            

Our rabbi raised his own tired body from the mat where he had caught just a couple of winks, quickly snuck out the back door and (moving right along….moving right along) walked briskly in the morning dew down the road that wound outside of town, there to find a lonely place, a quiet place, a place to breath deeply of the fresh air of a new day – and to pray.

            

It is a lovely scene – an introvert’s dream – but it does not last.  Simon and the others, heady with yesterday’s experience of massive and crowd-pleasing healings find Jesus and proclaim:  “Everyone is looking for you.  They love us here.  Up and at ‘em, so we can do it again.”  They are like modern day political handlers.

            

However, Jesus sighs, prays a quick Amen, and takes the reins himself.  As Roman Catholic scholar and professor, Dianne Bergant, writes, “Jesus realizes that the crowds are coming because they want miracles. He, on the other hand, wants crowds to come to hear the gospel he will preach”

            

“Moving right along,” he says.  “Moving right along.  We have places to go and people to meet.  We have good news to proclaim.” And so they left Capernaum that morning and traveled to other towns and villages in Galilee, preaching in the synagogues, healing the sick, and driving out demons.

            

No doubt about it.  Jesus’ actions certainly had a profound effect on those around him.  After all, he healed Simon’s mother-in-law from what could have been a life-threatening illness.  And word of that unusual occurrence was apparently enough to bring others from their sickbeds and mental prisons to find relief. 

            

Lives were changed that day.  Even the disciples were brought up short when they realized that their mission was not about fame and glory and people saluting them as miracle workers there in Capernaum, but rather it was about long miles to be walked, meals on the road, other places to go and people to see.  Moving right along….moving right along.

            

Moving right along down through the ages to us latter day disciples sitting here this morning pondering these stories.  Do these two little linked tales of healings and prayers say anything to us, all these centuries later?  Do they offer us wisdom or direction?

           

I think these two stories offer us an important lesson.  You see, when you come right down to it, they are a paradigm for sustaining ministry.  They illustrate for us that if we are to be effective disciples or followers of Jesus, then we need a balance between doing ministry and centering ourselves in order to be able to continue doing that ministry. 

            

Using these two little stories as a backdrop, I would say that we need a balance between healing or service and the lonely places of prayer.  We need a balance between a certain inwardness and our outward action.  We need a balance between doing outreach and serving others and coming to worship, which is where we re-center ourselves, re-calibrate ourselves, reconnect with the God who sends us forth in that God’s name.

            

You see, one without the other leaves us compromised.  One without the other leaves us little better than the broken and the lame that came to Jesus for healing in the first place. 

            

On the one hand, all outreach and service with no worship, no time to re-center ourselves and rebuild our energy eventually leaves us burnt out and probably quite resentful about it all. 

On the other hand, all worship and inward centering with no outreach into the broken world around us leaves us little better than those who bask in the false presumption that all you need to get by is a personal relationship with Jesus and forget about the world around you.

            

A sustaining Christian ministry  - and I am not talking just about the ordained clergy here - calls for a balance between outward action and rejuvenating prayer.  That is why serving at Monday meals and putting our change in a Heifer Project ark bank is only part of the story.  Being here at worship is the other equally important part. 

            

Now I know that I am preaching to the choir, so to speak.  And so, I would really appreciate your reminding folks who are not here that this is what worship is about.  It is not about whether or not the congregation or the choir should sing the responses.  It is not about whether we praise God with the organ or with an African drum.  It is not about the size – or even the thickness - of the bulletin.      

           

Worship is so much more than its structure.   Worship is where we are re-calibrated.  It is where we are re-centered.  It is where we are reconnected – both to God and to one another.  Worship is where we are rejuvenated so that our Christian ministry – our taking the hands of those in need, our being the hands of our Lord in the world - can be sustained.  Why?  So that we, like the disciples, can find ourselves moving right along, moving right along.

Rev. Nancy Foran

Raymond VIllage Community Church

Raymond, Maine

www.rvccme.org

Revelation 21:1-5 "The Eagle and the Condor"

Joe and I enjoy swimming laps at St. Joseph’s College in Windham a couple of times a week. Throughout eleven months of the year, there are generally 3-4 people at any given open lap swim. I like these numbers because usually everyone gets his or her own lane, so only rarely do I have to share a lane.

However, the month of January is different. At the beginning of each calendar year, the pool is crowded with folks we regulars have never seen before. I know those of you who frequent Planet Fitness experience the same phenomenon.

For three or four weeks, you share your gym space or pool lane with men and women who have made a New Year’s resolution to loose weight and get fit. It generally all passes within a couple of months, and the gym and the pool are then back to normal. I find New Year’s resolutions to be both funny as well as a little bit sad. For most of us, they are made to be broken – and often are broken by Valentine’s Day.
When you think about them, most New Year’s resolutions are self-centered, that is, they focus inward, on oneself. I will lose 20 pounds. I will stop biting my fingernails. I will drink less coffee. I will eat more fruit. I will change my diet, change my physique, change my job. There are few of us who resolve on New Year’s Day to change our world.

However, there is something particularly compelling about doing just that on this New Year’s Day. I am referring, or course, to all the hoopla about 2012. Perhaps you have read or heard about its significance for many people around the world.

December 21, 2012 marks the end of the Mayan calendar. It is also the predicted year of a Galactic Alignment, which is when the winter solstice sun aligns with our galactic equator, the midline which runs down the Milky Way, dividing our galaxy in two. This alignment happens about every 26,000 years. And, of course, there is the perspective taken in the apocalyptic film “2012”: that this is the year when the world will end. In general, there is an overwhelming sense of unusual things about to happen in 2012.

Undoubtedly, as the winter solstice comes closer this year, there will be those who will give up all hope for the world, presuming its climactic finale, Armageddon, doomsday. In fact, you can go onto the internet and find all sorts of websites detailing how to prepare for the impending catastrophe.

However, there will also be those who see this year of 2012 as symbolic of a great hope, a hope that humanity will finally begin climbing out of the dark abyss it finds itself in and emerge in the sunlight of a new and higher consciousness – we becoming more each day as God wants us to be – children of light, people of justice and compassion – people like Jesus.

Indigenous communities, from the Incans in South America to the Mayans in Central America to the Hopis in our own Southwestern United States all hold this common prophecy, and the year 2012 lies at its heart.

Joseph Robert Jochmans summarizes the gist of it this way: "…the Hopis and Mayans (and the Incas) recognize that we are approaching the end of a World Age... However, the Hopi and Mayan (and Incan) elders do not prophesy that everything will come to an end. Rather, this is a time of transition from one World Age into another. The message they give concerns our making a choice of how we enter the future ahead.”

The Incan prophecy says that “now, in this age, when the eagle of the North and the condor of the South fly together, the Earth will awaken…Now is the time.

(We are in the midst of) an era of light, an age of awakening, an age of returning to natural ways (in order to) understand the message of the heart, intuition, and nature…When (human) consciousness awakens, we can fly high like the eagle, or like the condor…” (www.incaprophecy.com)

Now whether you believe in prophecy in general or non-Christian prophecy in particular is irrelevant here. What is important for us to consider on this New Year’s Day 2012 – even as Christians - is what is articulated at the heart of this prophecy – and that is the concept of change. What is important for us to come to grips with is whether we believe that transformation of our world is even possible and whether we – specifically you and I – play a role in that transformation.

When I heard Christian theologian, John Dominic Crosson, speak this past fall, he said that, at its heart, Christianity is all about transformation. I agree with him. For me, of all the agents of change in all of human history, Jesus is the person who has most influenced – directly or indirectly - our growth as human beings.

Even our own Bible speaks of change and transformation:

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away…And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people…for the old order of things has passed away…Behold! I am making everything new!”

Do you believe in the possibility of change? Do you believe that this world can be made new? Do you believe in the Biblical truth of transformation? Do you believe that it might just be happening now – or do you believe that change is something God will unleash in the distant future?

The Incans called this period of transformation that they believed we have entered “Pachacuti” which means “great change.” They would say that now is the time in which the world will be turned right-side-up, so that harmony and order can be restored.

At their core, these ancient prophecies that swirl about the year 2012 are optimistic. Rather than being a time for the world to end, they refer instead to the end of time as we know it — the death of a way of thinking and being, the end of a way of relating to the earth and to one another.

This dying away of the old is a significant part of the Apostle Paul’s theology. He used the metaphor of dying and rising in Christ to talk about ending the old ways of living and being reborn into lives of loving service to the earth and to one another.

Do you believe in the possibility of such change? Do you believe, as Paul did, that the old can die away and something new can take its place? Do you believe in the Biblical truth of transformation? Do you believe that might just be happening now?

According to the ancient 2012 prophecy, the pachacuti, or great change, has already begun. Now is the time of the great gathering and reintegration of people from of the four directions – north, south, east, and west - the building of a truly global community. Now is the time that “munay,” love and compassion, will be the guiding force of this great gathering. Perhaps as Christians we might say that now is the time for Jesus’ great commandment: Love one another - to take hold in the world.

The 2012 prophecies also speak of tumultuous changes happening (not only) in the earth, (but also (and perhaps more importantly)) in our psyche, redefining our relationships and our spirituality, offering us an opportunity to redefine ourselves not as who we have been in the past but rather as who we are becoming. Now is the time when we have the potential to become a new kind of person. As our own Biblical Book of Revelation reads, “Behold I make all things new.”

Do you believe in the possibility of change? Do you believe that we can be made new? Do you believe in the Biblical truth of transformation? Do you believe that might just be happening now?

The Q’ero tribe, who are the modern day keepers of the Incan prophecy in Peru, believe that the doorways between the worlds are opening again. And here lies the special significance of 2012. Holes in time that we can step through and beyond, where we can explore our human capabilities, where we can once again become children of the light – that light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.

Do you believe in the possibility of change? Do you believe that this world can be made new and that we can once more shine brilliantly with the light of God? Do you believe in the Biblical truth of transformation? Do you believe that might just be happening now?

The ancient 2012 prophecy would say that rekindling this light is a possibility today for all who dare to take the leap – and, as a Christian, that is what I find so hopeful and so exciting about the year ahead.

The Andean shamans say, “Follow your own footsteps. Learn from the rivers, the trees and the rocks. Honor the Christ, the Buddha, your brothers and sisters. Honor the Earth Mother and the Great Spirit. Honor yourself and all of creation…Look with the eyes of your soul and engage the essential.”

As Christians, we call this period of transformation the coming of the Kingdom, and Jesus’ message is that you and I are instrumental in its unfolding. “The Kingdom of God is among us, within us,” he preached. “Thy Kingdom come, they will be done on earth (here, now) as it is in heaven,” he prayed.

f the ancient prophecies of the Incas, the Mayans, and the Hopi have any relevance for us as Christians, it is because their essence is so similar to Jesus’ Gospel message. And if this year of 2012 will have any special significance for us, it will be that we will make the commitment to be the agents of change that I believe we are called to be.

The time is now. The place is here. The people are us. Will this be the age when the eagle and the condor fly together? Will this be the age when we really see more than just glimpses of the Kingdom of God among us? Will this be the age when humanity exercises its potential to be transformative? After all, as Gandhi once said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

I believe there is a new world about to unfold. For me, this is a time of great high hope. And so I must ask these questions: What do we want this new world to look like? How do we want it to be when it is finally transformed? What can we do to begin that change, that transformation?

Here are a couple of broad themes to think about:

1. Building community globally – What is one thing you could do, one action you could bring to fruition, that would build up relationships between different cultures and peoples?

2. Building community locally – What is one thing you could do, one action you could bring to fruition, that would build up relationships between people or generations in this church and between this church and the Town of Raymond?

3. Building collaboration - What is one thing you could do, one action you could bring to fruition, that would foster collaboration rather than conflict, that would enhance discourse rather than argument, that would bring individuals, groups, or political parties together rather than polarize them?

4. Building a viable earth – What is one thing you could do, one action you could bring to fruition, that would help to ensure that you are passing on a livable earth to your children and grandchildren?

I truly believe that in this year of 2012, we can be agents of change and transformation. And I hope that I have convinced you to at least entertain that possibility.

Working against that hope, we are going to take some time now to come up with a

2012 resolution – just one resolution – a specific action you commit to take that reflects one of these themes that are so essential to the transformation of our world.

For the next 10 minutes right now, using the insert in your bulletin as a reference, think about what you will do to help in this pachacuti, this time of great change, the coming of the Kingdom. This is not a test. Nothing will be collected, and no one will see what you write down. However, this is an opportunity to take concrete action in 2012, to help the eagle and the condor to fly together and to usher in the Kingdom of God.

Luke 1:26-38: Three Brief Reflections on Joy

REFLECTION ON JOY #1

When I put the question “What is joy?” into my internet browser, the results numbered about 547,000,000. It seems this notion of joy is something that more that the 40+ of us sitting here in church this morning have pondered on occasion.

Here is what one blogger said about joy:

“Joy begins with a choice. Joy surrounds us. We must choose to let Joy in. Too often, we all are tempted to blow right past Joy as we lead our busy lives. And then we miss the moments of Joy!

(However, it does not have to be that way.) Instead, I can choose Joy – choose to let it in. Joy is a state of mind, or mindfulness. Above all – it is an openness to life’s wonderful moments and its treasures, no matter how small or fleeting they may be.” One author wrote: Joy is...a three year old wearing a leotard and tap shoes over her pajamas… and tapping like she knows what she is doing.

Maybe then joy is being present – in the moment – something most of us have a pretty hard time doing when the memories of the past creep in and the craziness of the future bombards us from all sides.

“Joy is the feeling of grinning on the inside.” says Dr. Melba Colgrove. Joy is not something that begins in your mind. It originates in your heart. Joy is usually not a conscious decision. Often, part of the delight of Joy is that it is unexpected.

Perhaps that is what Vicki Pollard had in mind when she wrote: “Joy is about radiance and movement. It shines from the eyes. It moves up and out through the whole body, exuding from every pore. Joy comes from a place deep within. It is about a vitality that is alive, moving in the body. It is the flower blooming. It is the apple appleing. Each of us being fully who and what we are -- that is joy. The opposite of the cold, still, inwardness of winter, joy is like the summer warmth that encourages everything to open fully.”(Did you know that yellow is the color of joy?)

Joy comes from God. It goes deeper than pleasure or happiness. As long as we do no harm to our neighbor and are always ready to help them, our hearts are full of joy. Joy is knowing that you are keeping God's Law and putting into practice the Beatitudes.

 REFLECTION ON JOY #2

Another blogger had this to say about joy:

“So - what is Joy, anyway? Ask ten different people, and you'll get ten different opinions. Some people say it is a deeper (higher) level of Happiness. Some say it's not an emotion at all…Rather, it is a state of being that is outside the emotional realm.

Well, we do know that an emotion is invoked by an event that produces a chemical reaction in your body, and your brain has learned, over time, to categorize and give names to those different chemical reactions. We've come to know what the chemical reaction for anger is, and for happiness, sadness, rage, and so on.

But does JOY really come from an event that produces a chemical reaction, or is it just a natural state of being within us, that is ALWAYS there, always waiting for us to embrace it, to bathe in its exquisite splendor?”

Our Deacons and Council have been thinking about joy this week. Here’s what some of them had to say:

A Definition of Joy - To take pride, pleasure in and to truly love what you do. An unexpected happiness occurring. Sources of Joy - Getting a compliment, Praise.

Seeing someone do something they didn't think they were able to. To share time and a mutual skill with someone you care for. To have peace when doing something.

Joy is that overwhelming, pleasant, and surprised feeling that everything is right. It’s that smile on you face because of the simple fact you know that it’s all good.

You feel joy at seeing people surprised with a random act of kindness, being able give someone something they were not expecting but needed and seeing the smile on their face as they felt the joy of knowing someone cares.

Joy is not what you have materially. It is a spiritual thing. It’s a combination of happiness and contentment. It’s all the other symbols of Advent – hope, peace, and love – woven together.

Joy radiates energy. It is doing things you are good at combined with making others happy. It is freely sharing your gifts and talents to make life better for someone else. Joy is inextricably connected to giving. Joy comes from seeing the other person’s response when you give.

It’s that internal tickle or smile – and whenever you come back to that experience – either in real time or as a memory - it brings out that little smirk again.

Joy can be just a moment in time – like the instant you see a perfect rainbow that reminds you that everything is going to be OK – because whatever happens, it is bigger than just you. Looking back on your life, you will find joyful moments that you carry with you always.

Joy can be a special look from a child – or can involve the people around you. Joy often involves other people – but not always. You can experience joy in solitude, especially in nature because that is where you often feel connected to God.

Joy can create more joy – it’s very expansive. It’s when you make a real difference in someone else’s life. Joy is often magnified when it is experienced with others, bounced off of, and reflected by others.

Joy is a feeling anytime your heart is over flowing with love, or someone has caused me to laugh with wild abandon – Wow this is joy! But, I have always felt “it”, and I mean ever since I was a child, in church at various times but always on Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday morning. It’s not something I can describe accurately except to say that a warm glow seems to flow over me – and it’s joy.

Last but not at all least, that feeling you get after having done something nice for someone else. It’s like a double dose of joy – theirs and your own!

Joyfulness and gratefulness go hand in hand.

REFLECTION ON JOY #3

For me personally, Joy is something that wells up from the very deepest part of my heart and soul. It is most certainly a gift from God. I came across a long list on the internet of sources of joy. Some of them rang true for me – falling in love, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Doing something you really love and having someone whom you respect tell you that you did a good job. Hearing a child say "I Love You" when you didn't say it first. Watching a sunrise. Watching a sunset. Listening to Louie Armstrong sing "What a Wonderful World” – among other things.

As I think back on my sabbatical/renewal time, three instances of joy stand out for me. One was when we reached the Incan ruins of Choquechirao after an arduous two day trek. It was the kind of hike where you wonder if you made a big mistake even starting and whether you would actually reach your goal.

But we did. We had made it – all five of us (and our 4 Peruvian guides, now also friends) – me with my iffy knees and Joe with his not-so-good hip.

Unlike Machu Picchu where 2000 people are allowed to enter the site each day, we saw perhaps a dozen other people that day. After all, you have to walk (or ride pack horses) to get to Choquechirao. There are no buses to take you up the winding mountain paths to this sacred site.

Choquechirao was so quiet. The day was so clear, and among these ancient stones we could feel the sacred all around us. However, the best was yet to come. You see, we looked up in the sky and saw a condor circling overhead. For native Peruvians, the condor symbolizes the upper world, the world of the spirit. The condor is the messenger of the gods. In traveling to and now experiencing Choquechirao, we had made a mysterious and sacred connection – with God and with one another. This was joy - connecting with the holy right here on earth.

Another time I felt joy was when Joe and I were hiking in the Highlands of Scotland. Though it rained practically every day, this was the day when we were particularly glad to have our gortex parkas and rain pants.

The rain was pelting down on us, and the wind was whipping. The trail was more like a stream bed. And the stream beds that crossed the trail had all but washed it out in many places.

We had just made it across one particularly rushing gushing stream and with three other people had helped a group of Dutch women cross with their guide.

In a cold and wet sort of way, I felt so vibrant, so absolutely alive. There could have been no better place to be at that particular moment in time. For me, joy is intrinsically tied to life – and the sure and steadying knowledge that it throbs within you – and that it and all creation is a sacred gift.

A third time I felt joy was when Joe and I maneuvered the heavy granite stone bench from our car to the hand truck to the center of the labyrinth and finally had it positioned. We sat on the bench and looked out into the woods. I, for one, felt a certain sense of peace.

There is an enormous pine tree not far from the labyrinth – the kind that you can not encircle with your arms because the trunk is way too big. I wonder how long it has been growing there. Anyway, it reminds me that neither height nor depth nor anything in all creation can separate us from the love of God. Surely there is joy in that faith.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, pastor of Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
www.rvccme.org

Mark 14:24-37 "Longing"

I was in Home Depot in very early November and was once again flabbergasted (it happens to me every year) to see that the store Christmas display was up and running. The brightly lit and perfectly decorated artificial trees were in their carefully placed rows, and a variety of inflatable holiday characters had sprouted up near by, merrily swaying in the breeze – almost as if they were waving to unassuming customers - each time the exterior doors opened.

I commented to a clerk how odd it must feel to have all that “stuff” around so early in November. She laughed and told me that this particular location was one of the first on the list this year and so had been transformed for Christmas in mid-September.

And so our stores and malls become clogged with wreaths and reindeer. Creche scenes pop up on lawns all over town. Christmas carols begin to fill the airwaves, and once again we all give in to our annual obsession with candlelight. And so Advent begins as we prepare for the birth of that baby in Bethlehem.

However, according to the Gospel writer of Mark, who apparently does not think that the birth of Jesus was worth recording anyway, you can toss out the manger and the star, the angels and the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. As James Love, former United Church of Canada pastor, wrote: “When Mark looks into the sky, what he sees are cosmic fireworks: a darkened sun, a dim moon, stars falling from the sky like sparks from a sparkler - and there, in the center of the smoke, the Son of God coming in clouds with great power and glory.”

Each year here in church we begin Advent not in the peaceful oasis of the stable out behind the inn where there was no room but rather in the chaos of what appears to be the end times. In fact, this section of the Gospel of Mark is known in scholarly circles as the Little Apocalypse.

Today, I want to look at this passage of rack and ruin in a slightly different way. After all, the word “apocalypse” simply means a revelation or unveiling. Can we reveal or unveil anything that might cause us to at least consider a different perspective when we begin our Advent journey in the midst of such heavenly induced pyrotechnics?

So - let’s take a moment and look at these verses from the point of view of someone in the first century, someone hearing these words of the Gospel writer for the first time. What meaning would they have had? What was happening in that first century world? What would have prompted the writer to say these things as he told the story of Jesus? What was the historical context of this passage?

The first thing to understand about this Gospel – about any of the four gospels really – is that their authors were not eye witnesses to Jesus and his ministry. The disciples did not write any of the gospels. And that makes perfect sense, when you think about it. After all, most of the disciples were illiterate fishermen who signed their names with X’s – hardly budding authors.

Mark is the earliest gospel to be written, around the year 70 CE, 40 or so years after Jesus preached. This gospel was written about the time of one of the bloodiest and most violent revolts that any Jew could remember. You see, Jewish zealots had occupied the holy city of Jerusalem until Roman besieged it and sacked it, bringing the Jewish population to its knees and destroying the temple, the place where God/Yahweh resided. In the end, it was all a pile of rubble, save its Western Wall, which to this day is still a place of Jewish pilgrimage, known as the Wailing Wall.

The early writer Josephus described the carnage this way: “Now as soon as the army had no more people to slay or to plunder, because there remained none to be the objects of their fury, [Titus] Caesar gave orders that they should now demolish the entire city and Temple…it was so thoroughly laid even with the ground…that there was left nothing to make those that came thither believe it [Jerusalem] had ever been inhabited….And truly, the very view itself was a melancholy thing; for those places which were adorned with trees and pleasant gardens, were now become desolate country (in) every way, and its trees were all cut down.”

Josephus goes on to say, “The slaughter within was even more dreadful than the spectacle from without. Men and women, old and young, insurgents and priests, those who fought and those who entreated mercy, were hewn down in indiscriminate carnage. The number of the slain exceeded that of the slayers. The legionaries had to clamber over heaps of dead to carry on the work of extermination.” Josephus claims that 1,100,000 people were killed during the siege, of which a majority were Jewish, and that 97,000 were captured and enslaved.

That was the world that the Gospel writer of Mark was experiencing – though we do not know for sure whether the gospel was written just before or just after the destruction of Jerusalem. If afterwards, then the writer had seen the rape and pillage, smelled the God-awful smoke from the flames that leapt hot and red high into the sky, heard the terrified screams of the citizenry. If the Gospel was written before the revolt, then the writer clearly saw the handwriting on the wall and articulated it in terrifyingly graphic images.

This was Mark’s world. Roman imperial victory and violence was what he knew and viscerally understood. And frankly, Mark’s experience and the experience of everyone who listened to his gospel just did not jive with all that Jesus had taught. I mean, for all Jesus’ talk about turning the other cheek, loving your enemy, living lives of non-violence where peace came not through military victory but rather through economic justice, it simply was not working. Daily life was still a constant brush with violence. Roman backlash was a drunken officer’s order away.

If this was the kingdom (of God or otherwise) that was among us, then why would any rational Jew ever choose to be a part of it? And besides, Jesus had gone out and gotten himself crucified – and now appeared to have jumped ship altogether.

If that sounds harsh, then think back on all you know about Jesus – “itinerant teacher, provocative preacher, outsider’s choice.”(J.Bell), befriending prostitutes, sharing meals with a tax collector and his cronies, preaching non-violence and economic justice as the way to peace on earth.

And remember what people were really looking for in a messiah – a leader who rode a mighty warhorse, not a peasant who rode sidesaddle on a donkey. As Lutheran pastor Todd Weir writes, “People of Christ's day expected a lot more of Jesus than he delivered. They wanted a messiah to make the world right --by their terms. (And) their terms were limited to narrow nationalistic expectations for Israel, by a sense that God was only concerned about one little patch of land at the junction of three continents.”

Maybe, just maybe, God ought to try again with this savior business and get it right the second time. Perhaps that is what Mark had in the back of his mind when he included this Little Apocalypse in his Gospel. And so we have one possible source of the theology we call the Second Coming.

Maybe, just maybe, God ought to try again with this savior business and get it right the second time. As seminary professor and preacher Fred Craddock commented, “Maybe people are obsessed with the Second Coming because deep down they are disappointed in the first one.”

I understand that feeling, and I bet you do too. We all long for a time when the wolf will lie down with the lamb, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.

I long for a day when the economic gap between the affluent and the impoverished is mercifully shut. I hope that the Occupy movement will gain unstoppable momentum and that it will engage all of us and challenge each one of us to look at our own materialism and values.

I long for a day when we will have no troops in Afghanistan, when the Middle East will be stable, when we as a nation will cut our defense budget before we cut education and social programs, a day when warfare and hatred will cease.

I long for a day when we will not reflexively fear Muslims, when politicians will collaborate, when hunger and homelessness will cease to define our world. But I also know that most of the time, it is really hard to see that ever happening.

But this is Advent, the season of hope and promise. Yet, where is the hope and promise in this world that so much of the time seems so messed up?

For me, it is simply in the fact that the Second Coming has not come. What I mean is that once long ago, God put all those holy eggs in one basket and invested in us – with Jesus as a role model, as the way and the truth and the life for you and me.

And God – apparently - has not given up on us. That is the long and the short of it, and that fact is the most hopeful thing I can think of when all the world seems to have gone awry God has not given up on us.

God still believes that we can transform this world – each in our own little corner of it. Imagine that! God believes in our potential to achieve a higher level of consciousness maybe (That is what the Incas and Mayans would call it anyway.). God believes that we have it in us to really behave as if we were made in God’s image. God still believes in us.

Therein lies the essence of our Advent hope: right now, at least, we do not need a second coming. But more importantly, we can not depend on a second coming. Advent challenges us to live our lives trusting that the first coming, the one in the stable, is enough.

And so each year – and this year is no exception - we make ready. We prepare. We wait for the birth of the child in Bethlehem. We wait for that sign of God’s affirmation in us, in humanity. We place our hope in that sign of incarnation, that sign that God still believes in your innate ability – and in mine - to generate justice, which will someday bring peace on earth.

Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/

"ROI" - Matthew 25:14-30

Amazing God, when we are perplexed and challenged by scripture, open our hearts and minds to your abundant possibilities. Help us listen for your voice and give us courage to be bold in our response. Amen.

I began this sermon today with a prayer – something I do not ordinarily do. However, as I just confided to God, our quest to understand this Gospel lesson found in both Matthew and Luke deserves a prayer because this parable of the talents is indeed both perplexing and challenging.

Here we have a master, a wealthy landowner, who is on the road, going off – perhaps on an extended vacation, perhaps on a business trip – but anyway vacating his property for a significantly long period of time – so long that he felt compelled to leave his fortune divided unequally among three slaves.

As UCC pastor Hal Chorpenning notes: “Two of them are rabid proto-capitalists and one takes the safe route and takes care of what he’s got. Two are interested in growth and one is interested in security.”

To one of the slaves, the master gives five talents. Now, a talent is a first century unit of money, actually a lot of money. Five talents would be the equivalent of income for about 15 years of labor. In 21st century terms, say that you make $50,000 a year. That would be a cool $750,000.

To another slave, the master gave two talents – worth about what you could earn in 6 years. Using our $50,000 annual income as a guide, the worth of those two talents would be a whopping $300,000. And finally the master gave the third slave one talent, which would be like one year’s earnings – nothing to sneeze at either.

Now in the parable, the guy with five talents invests them handily and ends up with 10 talents (1.5 million bucks, using our equivalent) by the time the master returns.

“Awesome, good and faithful servant,” the master proclaims as he slaps him on the shoulder. “You understand the bottom line. You know how to get a decent ROI, return on investment.”

The two talent slave was equally successful because he also doubled what he had been given, ending up with 4 talents (or about $200,000).

“I am proud of you as well,” exclaimed the master. “You took risks and were not afraid of possible failure. You too understand the bottom line because you brought me a decent ROI, return on investment.”

By this time the one talent slave was a bit uneasy because, though he still had the one talent ($50,000), he did not have a penny more. “But hey,” he reminded himself. “I chose to play it safe, so I would not lose any money. With the economy as shaky as it has been, to me that was undeniably prudent.”

However, as you might have guessed, the master was not pleased. “You lazy you know what! You risk-averse little man! Because of your fear and lack of action, you have nothing to show. Your share goes to the millionaire over here. He deserves it, not you.”

“But wait!” protested the one talent slave. “Is there no place for caution, security, and the status quo in this world?”

When I was riding on the shuttle from the Tampa airport to get set for my breast cancer walk, I ended up talking with another walker from Louisville, Kentucky. She was telling me about her church and a wonderful program that the youth group leaders had initiated. It was called “Homeless for a Night” - and it was a variation on a lock-in, rock-a-thon, or giant slumber party at the church. The purpose of the event was to help these teenagers viscerally understand what being homeless felt like. Consequently, each one who participated was given a large cardboard box to set up in the church parking lot as his or her shelter for the night.

However, those participants who raised $50.00 in contributions (which would be donated to the local homeless shelter) were given a blanket in addition to their cardboard box. Those who raised $75.00 were given a blanket and a pillow. Those who raised $100.00 were given a blanket, a pillow, and a jacket to wear. The more these young Christians invested in the Gospel message and put it into action, the greater their ROI, return on investment.

Father Ernest Ezeogu tells a story about a man who was furious with God. "God," the angry man said, “I have been praying daily for three years that I should win the state lottery. You told us to ask and we shall receive. How come I never received all these three years I have been asking?"

Then he heard the voice of God, loud and clear. "My dear son," said God. "Please do me a favor. Buy a lottery ticket."

"If you wanna win, you got to play."

That is what this parable of the talents is telling us. Father Ezeogu goes on to say that “there are two kinds of people in our churches today: risk-takers and care-takers. The problem with care-takers is that they might show up at the undertaker's with little to show for the lives they have lived.”

There is an element of risk involved in asserting to be a Christian, a follower of Jesus, a proclaimer and liver of the Gospel. A blogger on this Scriptural text put it this way, “God always asks us to step out of our comfort-zone and act out of faith, not fear.

It’s what God expected of Noah when he told him to build an ark and collect animals. It’s what God expected of Abraham when he told him to leave his home…It’s what God expected of Mary when he sent the Angel Gabriel. It’s what God expected of Paul after knocking him off his horse.

Had any of those figures acted out of their fear (What will happen? Will we be safe? Will we have enough money? Will people still like me? Can I accomplish this?) instead of faith, the Bible would be a very different book.”

You see, the opposite of faith is not doubt, but rather fear. That is what this parable of the talents is also telling us. We are called to be people of action, not succumbing to the temptation to bury ourselves within these four walls and play it safe. The time for prudence and security is gone. We are called to be people of faith, not fear.

Too often we get all tangled up trying to interpret this parable. We focus on how to play the market and end up concluding that somehow it is all so grossly unfair. However, whenever we focus on the complexities of a parable, we are at best missing, and at worst avoiding, its point. The point of a parable is never complicated. It is always simple- maybe not easy, but always simple.

And so, this parable is not about good financial practices. Neither is it a celebration of a capitalist mentality.
Goodness gracious, if that were the case, it would be terribly misconstruing of the concept of the Kingdom, which Jesus makes clear is a world where financial calculations are abolished.

This parable is simply about how we are to live in God’s Kingdom – not prepare for God’s Kingdom which will come at some future point but rather live in God’s Kingdom – here, now, this day.

I went to a wonderful lecture series last weekend. It was the Fall Learning Event, presented by the Maine Conference of the United Church of Christ. Martha Morrison was there as well, and the speaker was theologian John Dominic Crosson. He talked a lot about what Jesus really meant by the Kingdom of God.

Though we talk about the Kingdom being among us - in our heart or inside of us, face it, it is far easier to think of the Kingdom of which Jesus spoke as coming somewhere down the line – at some future and glorious point in time when God will finally take the initiative to make all things new.

However, Crosson countered, what if Jesus was not talking about a future kingdom? What if Jesus presented a paradigm shift, a vision that shifted the tradition of first century Judaism?

What if Jesus was offering an alternative to what people believed, an alternative that still has the potential to rock us and shock us even down to the present day? “The Kingdom of God is among us,” he said. It is already here.

Yikes! Imagine that! What if it were true – that all these millennia we have been waiting for God to take some action when in reality God has been waiting for us.

What if the Kingdom is here, but is only visible if and when you and I as Christians collaborate with it. To put it another way, if we do nothing, nothing kingdom-like will happen. However, if we do something Christ-like, then all things are possible.

That is the point at which this parable of the talents dovetails so sweetly. God challenges us with the notion of a bottom line, an ROI, but for us as Christians, that ROI might better be translated “return on the incarnation”.

The coming of Christ is God’s spiritual investment in us – you and me - and it is an investment of immeasurable proportion. In fact, the fate of the world hinges upon that bottom line.

ROI – return on investment: We are called to invest our faith in Christ-like action. That is what the parable tells us. That is what the two favored slaves did in this Gospel story. They took risks. They did not fear failure. They were activists.

ROI – return on investment. I can not put it any better or more succinctly than Desmond Tutu did when he said, “God without you, won’t. You without God, can’t.”

And so I leave you with this question: What is your ROI, return on investment, return on the incarnation?

Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church in Raymond, Maine
www.rvccme.org