Psalm 84 "Coming Home"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

         The day is hot already, and we all know that it will be a scorcher.  The sun will beat down upon us, and the mirage we will see before us will be the heat shimmering up from the ground itself.  We will feel it even behind our eyelids.  There will be little respite from the sun’s blazing rays – even when we stop for lunch in an olive grove a few miles down the road.

          It has been a long walk.  It will feel good to sit down and be off our feet for a while.  In the grove, we can take off our sandals and wipe the dust off of them.  We can wiggle our toes in the stream that long ago cut its way through this valley and now meanders among the ancient trees.

         We are on our way to Zion, of course.  We are on a pilgrimage to the Holy City itself, to Jerusalem.  A sense of excitement grows inside us with each step we take – a wonderful anticipation of what we will find in this most sacred of places.  It is a marvelous feeling that we have perhaps never felt before, or certainly not for a long, long time. 

        We are not traveling alone, of course.  The roads are far too dangerous, and so we journey in a group - for safety, but also for camaraderie.  Some of our fellow travelers we know.  They are family and neighbors.  Others have merged their group with ours along the way.  All are welcome:  Strangers and friends. 

         Baptist pastor Randy Hyde imagines our journey this way:  “All conversations are about what you will do when you reach Jerusalem, where you will go, why you have decided to come. Obviously, you have to tend to practical matters. You talk with the others about where you will stay, how much it will cost, whether you will have any funds left over with which to buy souvenirs. But once these kinds of conversations find suitable solutions, or at least possible answers, your thoughts always go back to the reasons why you have come in the first place.

         The chances are, your purpose has to do with a religious festival of some kind. Perhaps it is Passover, or it might be the Festival of Lights. The Jewish calendar afforded the faithful numerous opportunities to come to the Holy City and live out the mountaintop experience of praising God with like-minded believers.  As you travel, your thoughts are not on the incessant heat, the dust, the varmints, the thirst, the danger... you are thinking of one thing and one thing only: your destination.”

         Your primary and most climactic end point, of course, the real reason you came all this way, is the Temple – the wonderful house of God that King Solomon built.  It is gargantuan, sacred, and dripping with gold – a fitting dwelling place for the one true God, the God of Israel. 

         Your imagination takes over as you think about what will accost your five senses when you enter:  “I could hear the pipes and the cymbals and the deep blended voices of the singers. Never had I heard such rich music, such full music as that of the Levites singing. It wasn’t the gay, broken, and high song of the Psalms we sang on the road, or the happy fast-paced songs of the weddings. It was a dark and almost sad sound that flowed on and on with great power. The Hebrew words melted in the chorus. There was no beginning or end to any part of it.

         It caught me up so completely that only slowly did I see what was happening in front of me, in front of the railing. The priests in their pure white linen with white turbans on their heads moved back and forth with the animals from the crowd in which we stood to the great altar. I saw the little lambs and the goats going to the sacrifice. I saw the birds being carried.

         The priests were so thick around the altar I couldn’t see what they did, but only now and then see the splashes of blood high and low. The hands of the priests were covered in blood. Their beautiful linen robes were splashed with blood. A great fire burned on the altar. And the smell of roasting meat was beyond words. I smelled it with every breath I took.” (Anne Rice)

         Surely Yahweh/God will be in this place – to receive our offerings and, through them, to forgive our sins.  We will be right with our God.  Our relationship with the Holy One will be restored - strengthened – and secure.  When we get to Jerusalem, when we enter the Temple, we will be home.

         So – really - how can we keep from singing? 

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord;

Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere;


 I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
 than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

         How can we keep from singing when we are about to finally come home, home to this place of beauty and power, home to Zion, to Jerusalem, to the Holy City, home to God?  We are so close to fulfilling that powerful and deeply human urge to simply go home – home where the heart is, home where "when you have to go there, they have to take you in,’ as Robert Frost once so wisely wrote.  Soon we will reach the Temple.  We will finally be home.  We will be right with our God.  How can we keep from singing?

         Fast forward now a couple of millennia.  The day is still hot, but we are not in the land of olive groves.  We do not travel in groups anymore, and we are not gathered in a gargantuan structure dripping with gold.  And I am not going to sacrifice a ram or a goat or even a bird. 

         Yet, if we search our hearts to their very core, I wonder if we will not discover – most likely very deeply hidden – a similar sensation when we come here on a Sunday morning. Though we probably are not rolling down our car windows and singing hymns at the top of our voices as we drive here, surely, like the ancient Israelites on pilgrimage to the Temple, we are meant to know the fulfillment of that same deep-seated human need:  When we come to this church, we have come home.

         When you come right down to it, when all else is stripped away, surely that is what church is meant to be – a coming home to God.  Of course, I do not mean church as this building, beautiful as it might be.  Rather I mean all of us coming together as worshippers.  This gathering we participate in each Sunday, this gathering is our opportunity to come home to God.  And since that is so, then surely, how can we keep from singing?

What a beautiful home, God-of-the-Angel-Armies. I’ve always longed to live in a place like this,
Always dreamed of a room in your house,
where I could sing for joy to God-alive! One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches.
I’d rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin.

        Of course, when I speak about church, as blogger Jeremy Myers writes, “I am not talking about simply showing up on Sunday to fake a few smiles, and half-heartedly sing a few songs, and then suffer through a long-winded sermon. That is not what church was meant to be. (Just like) that is not what heaven (is meant to be) either.

         Almost all Christians (Myers goes on to say) have some sort of idea that heaven is going to be one long, unending church service. They have an image of a never-ending sing-along in the sky, one great hymn after another, forever and ever, amen.

         And most people, when they hear that think, ‘That’s it? That’s heaven? That’s the good news?’ We know we don’t want to go to hell, but we’re not sure we want to go to heaven either.”  Well, neither heaven (I hope) nor church (I can assure you) should be like that.

         You see, church – worship – is more than the sermon.  It is more than the prayers.  It is more than the singing – though, when all those elements are combined, the result that Karen and I hope for  far exceeds the sum of all the parts. 

         Church is about dreaming and envisioning the world as it should and could be, rather than remaining mired in the world as it is.  Church is about creating a backdrop against the world as we know it – seeing the proliferation of guns in this country and the twisted logic of ISIS and the racism that has never gone away – seeing those cultural realities not only as they are but, more importantly, in light of non-violence and reconciliation and radical inclusion that is the essence of the Gospel message and therefore the ground of our fondest hope and wildest desire, if we are, in fact, Christians as we say we are. 

         Church is about daring to create an “alternative imagination,” to coin a phrase from Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann.  Our ancient ancestors knew that the Temple pointed beyond itself to the central reality of God/Yahweh.  In the end, they did not journey for the building - gargantuan and dripping with gold as it was – they journeyed to be home, to be in the presence of God. 

         Likewise, when we journey here, we come not for this old structure with the paint peeling on the outside and the floors in the classrooms needing to be replaced. We come because our worship together reminds us to keep God – and the Gospel message - at the heart of everything we do. Our presence here makes this old building sacred because it is our home.  It is where our relationship to God is strengthened and restored and made secure. 

         This home of ours – it is a thin place where the veil between the world of what is and the world of what might be falls away, the mere dream of which arms us with what we need most: courage and strength and great high hope.

         So – really – how can we keep from singing:

How lovely is your house, amazing God!  I want nothing more than to live close to you. Just one day knowing you are near is better than a thousand days without you.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine 

1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14 "Grant Us Wisdom"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

         A man once asked God, "What does a billion dollars mean to you, O God, you who are all powerful?"  Tell me, what does a billion dollars mean to you?

         "A billion dollars?  It means hardly a penny to me," God responded.

         The man thought for a moment and then asked a second question. "And what are a thousand centuries to you?"

          God promptly answered him.  "Hardly a second!!"

         The man secretly smiled because he figured he had backed God into a corner.  He said, "Well, if that is the case, O Holy One, then give me a penny!!"

         Without missing a beat, God replied, "Sure - in just a minute."

         There are human smarts – street smarts, taking care of oneself first smarts.  And there is holy wisdom.

         There may have been a lot of those human smarts in ancient Israel during the time of the monarchy, that is, the time when kings ruled God’s chosen people.  However, there was not a lot of holy wisdom.  That was a given, and King David probably knew it.  And surely Solomon did.

         After forty years of ruling the kingdom he himself had united, David lay on his deathbed – his mind awash in memories – Bathsheba in the bathtub, dancing the ark of the covenant into Jerusalem, his prematurely departed son, Absalom, who had desired the throne but wanted it before his father died. 

         Absalom had mounted a military campaign against the king and gotten himself killed.  Such a tragedy: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you.”

         Yes, in spite of the good times – the dancing, the beauty of his wife – David had known so much grief.  Would it ever end? Because now there was so much necessary revenge in order to simply hold together the pieces of this monarchy that seemed so frayed around the edges.

         And so, in his final hours, David called his son, Solomon, to his bedside and instructed him on just how to settle all the loose ends of the family business.  David’s directions were not unlike the scenes in the movie “The Godfather” when Marlon Brando deals with his Mafia enemies by making them offers that they cannot refuse. 

         Joab, who had murdered Absalom, had to be snuffed out as did Shemei, who had once cursed King David.  Solomon’s brother Adonijah was a strong competitor for the throne and therefore needed to be eliminated if Solomon’s power was to be consolidated and the monarchy restored. 

         All in all, it was a brutal time that is recorded in our Bible.  It was a time of palace intrigue, betrayals, deceptions, and assassinations.  This transition of power from David to Solomon was anything but smooth and easy.  The end result, however, was that Solomon became king, and his authority was well established.

         Now King Solomon loved God/Yahweh as his father had – like father, like son – though Solomon did have a bad habit of offering sacrifices and burnt offerings on a variety of hilltop altars, none of which honored the God of the Israelites.  On one of those occasions, as the incense burned low and its fragrance mixed with the odor of a slaughtered ram and rose to please some nameless god, Solomon slept peacefully on the mountain’s summit.

         That was the moment that God/Yahweh chose to come to Solomon – in all his brokenness, with his history of vengefulness and his propensity to turn to whatever god seemed most efficacious at the time.  That was the moment that God/Yaheh chose to come to Solomon in a dream and ask the young king something that the Holy One had never asked before and never would again in all of Holy Scripture. 

         God asked Solomon:  “What would you like me to give you?  No strings attached, you understand.  What do you – in your heart of hearts – really want?”

         What would Solomon say?  Wealth?  Honor?  Good health?  Excellent wine?  A beautiful wife?  Sons and grandsons galore?  Military victories?  Living to a ripe old age?

         Though such wishes may have crossed his mind, Solomon said none of these things.  In an infrequent moment of clarity and right-mindedness, Solomon answered God/Yahweh:  “How about giving me - your servant - a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong.  Give me a listening heart, an understanding heart, a heart that can recognize and dispense justice.  Give me wisdom, O Holy One.”

         Well, that was the correct answer, all right.  Solomon hit a home run with that response.  In fact, God was so impressed that Solomon had not come back with a plea for money, old age, or the ability to snuff out all his enemies that God gave the king not only wisdom,

but also the other stuff he had not outright asked for: riches and honor and, should he walk in God’s path, a long life to boot.

         Now understand that God’s gift to Solomon was not a game changer.  Solomon was not all-of-a-sudden the perfect monarch.  Far from it! 

         With his newfound wealth, he embarked on a massive building campaign, renewing the City of Jerusalem and constructing the temple – a suitable home finally for the arc of the covenant where the Israelites believed that God/Yahweh resided.  The temple was an astounding structure.  It was enormous and dripping with gold – a fitting home for the God of Israel. 

         Solomon became obsessed with his wealth and achievements and lived an extravagant life.  Of course, along with having an endless supply of riches comes a deep-seated fear of losing it all.  Consequently, Solomon put together a personal bodyguard consisting of twelve thousand horsemen, and certainly their upkeep was not cheap.

          In addition, the cost of all this magnificent construction coupled with his dependence on a strong military drained his treasury, forcing him to tax his people heavily. 

Being poor already, their quality of life degraded substantially. It was the best of times.  It was the worst of time.  And it was not rocket science to see that the monarchy was crumbling and, in time, would break apart and end, yet again, in chaos and misery for the Jewish populace.

         Solomon did, of course, have his shining moments of wisdom.  Perhaps that is why it is said that he authored the Biblical books of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Solomon. 

         His most famous nugget of wisdom was when, as Disciples of Christ pastor Mickey Anders writes, “two women came to Solomon, both claiming the same child as their own. They both were prostitutes, lived together and had babies about the same time. One of the mothers rolled over on her child in the night, suffocating it. So she surreptitiously replaced her dead child for the other mother's living child. When that mother awoke, she was shocked to see a dead baby. But on closer examination she knew this was not her child.

         So both mothers come to Solomon asking for him to rule between them. Solomon asks for a sword and commands that the baby be cut in two so that each one could have a half.

         One of the women said, ‘Yes, that is fine. That way neither of us will have him.’

         But the real mother, of course, protested and insisted that the child remain alive even if it was given to the wrong mother. Thus Solomon wisely knew who the real mother was.”

         All in all, however, in spite of such unforgettable moments of brilliance, Solomon messed up a lot and was really quite a tragic figure – and, in that sense, a very human figure – not unlike us who also are given great gifts which we manage to squander in one way or another. 

         In the end, as Reformed Church pastor Scott Hoezee writes, “David and Solomon represent the apex of Israelite history.  It would be all downhill after these two as the kingdom splits, good and godly kings become about as rare as a $3 bill, and the whole project of Israel as God’s Chosen Nation runs pretty well off the rails thanks to the faithlessness of the one generation after the next.”

         Hoezee goes on to say, “But God was faithful and so brought to this earth not a king like Solomon who now and then managed to display some pretty profound wisdom but rather Wisdom incarnate,

a living and talking and walking and breathing (example) of all that is right about life in this world as God set it up in the beginning. 

         It may be a little tough (Hoezee writes) to spy the Gospel in a text as saturated with bad news and violence as the early chapters of 1 Kings are, but it’s surely not too tough to spy the need for a Gospel of Good News and Grace in these chapters and, given the prominence of wisdom in these same chapters, it’s also not too tough to spot that just probably Wisdom incarnate is going to be exactly what this tired and violent old world will need in the end.”

         That is certainly something to take hold of from this ancient story of the transition of power from David to Solomon: That we might notice glimmers of wisdom just as we might experience infrequent times when justice is accomplished and random acts of compassion occur.  We might even be the initiators of those occasions.  However, if we really want to see what wisdom is and what justice is like and how compassion transforms lives, we will not look too long at one another but rather look to, as Hoezee says, “Wisdom Incarnate”, the Gospel message, Jesus himself.

        Now - that is a pretty heady takeaway from this passage, and I am tempted to stop right here.  However, in addition, we really must ponder that question that weaves itself in and around this passage. 

         It is the question that God asked Solomon:  “What would you like me to give you?  No strings attached, you understand.  What do you – in your heart of hearts – really want?”

         What DO you – in your heart of hearts – really want?  What do YOU really want? That is a question for all of us as individuals but even more so a question for all of us together as a faith community.  What do WE really want? 

         As your pastor, what I – in my heart of hearts – really want is for us as a church to figure out who we are and, more importantly, who we want to be – and, most importantly, what strategies we are willing to put into place to get there.

         Are we a church who, above all, simply wants to minimize expenses and get the bills paid, so that the building stands firm, a landmark on Main Street as it has always been?  And what are we willing to do to make that happen?

        Are we a church who, above all, wants to extend an extravagant welcome to anyone who walks through our doors – regardless of age, sexual orientation, ethnic background, mental and physical limitations?  And what are we willing to do to make that happen?

         Are we a church who, above all, wants to engage in hands-on outreach and service – not just once or twice a year - but daily, weekly, monthly?  And what are we willing to do to make that happen?

         Are we a church who, above all, wants to tell the ancient stories of our faith and their meaning for us today in worship that is engaging and enriching – not by employing the same old, same old but by using contemporary visuals and songs and new ways of praising God?  And what are we willing to do to make that happen?

         Or are we a church with a dream or vision that I have not even mentioned?

         All these notions are valid and could be who we are – though I would submit that choosing to be a church that simply wants to get the bills paid and has no clear direction beyond that is tantamount to signing a warrant for a not-so-slow but certainly painful death. 

I would also submit that not to intentionally decide who we are is de facto opting to be that kind of church.

         Who are we as a church?  And what are we willing to do to be the kind of church that the Spirit encourages us to be? Surely it takes wisdom to discern our answer.  It takes wisdom because wisdom is recognizing the hard questions, having the courage to ask them, the perseverance to answer them, and the trust that God will be there as we seek to act on them. 

         King Solomon asked for wisdom – and was granted so much more.  May we also ask for wisdom, and may God grant us wisdom – and courage – as we face this hour of discerning who we are as a church community.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine

        

        

         

Ephesians 4:25- 5:2 "Three Documents"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

       Once there was a cantankerous old man. He was so crabby that all his neighbors avoided him.  In addition, his four sons moved away from home as soon as they could. You get the picture.  But his wife?  His poor wife was longsuffering in her presence – you know, ‘til death do us part.

       One night the old man went to bed and just slipped away. His wife called all the sons, and they dutifully returned home.  The question for the four of them was this:  What should they do?

       After much discussion and debate, they finally came to this conclusion:  "He was hard to live around, and no one could get along with him, but he was our pa. We owe him a decent burial, out in the meadow beyond the field."

       So they went out to the barn and found some boards and made a casket. They laid their pa out inside it, put the box on their shoulders, and carried it out past the barn.  However, as they passed through the gate into the field, something very unfortunate occurred.  One of the boys bumped into the gatepost, causing them to drop the box.

       The casket broke open and the cantankerous, crabby old man sat straight up. He wasn’t dead after all.

He had only been in a very deep... sleep!

       Much excitement that day, but finally life got back to normal!  The old man lived for two more long and hard years, just as ornery and mean, cantankerous and crabby as ever. The boys, of course, went back to their homes, thankful for the great blessing of not having to put up with the old man on a daily basis.  However, his poor wife continued to stay with him and became even more longsuffering with each day that went by – you know, ‘til death do us part.

       Then one night the old man went to bed and just slipped away. Once again, his four sons came back to the old homestead.  Once again, they engaged in much discussion and debate:  What should they do?

       "Well,” they concluded for the second time.  “He was hard to live around, and no one could get along with him, but he was our pa. We owe him a decent burial, out in the meadow beyond the field."

         So, just like last time, they went out to the barn and found some boards and made a casket and put the old man in it. They put the box on their shoulders and started out of the house.

         As they left the yard and started for the field, their mother, the old man's wife, called out to them, "Boys, when you get out by the barn...you be real careful going through that gate this time."

         Surely we have all run into someone like the old man or – dare I say it – even been like him ourselves on occasion. – ornery, mean, cantankerous, crabby.  You could probably add to that some of the language of the author of this letter to the Ephesians used:  angry, unkind, dispassionate, and unforgiving. 

         My mother used to refer to folks like that as people who got out on the wrong side of the bed in the morning.  My father used to say that they behaved that way because their shoes were too tight and pinched their feet. 

         Call it what you will. The author of this letter clearly stipulates that these are not characteristics of anyone who proclaims himself or herself to be part of the body of Christ, followers of Jesus, imitators of God.  In the three previous chapters of this letter, the author has gone to great lengths to tell his listeners just what God has been up to in Jesus and just what the sweeping plan for salvation is that the Holy One has in mind. 

         In a writing style typical of Paul, the author has offered not parables and stories but well-articulated (though difficult to grasp at first reading) arguments and explanations.  In fact, sometimes we feel like we are soaring through outer space, our heads spinning with grace and faith, “the manifold wisdom of God (That’s from Chapter 3), Jew and Gentle,  “creating one race out of two peoples in union with himself” (Chapter 2).

         However, here, in the verses we just read, the author reels himself in.  As Reformed Church pastor, Stan Mast writes, “At last the rubber hits the road….Now it’s time to come down to earth and tell us exactly what God’s cosmic plan means for us as we walk the mean streets of our cities and towns….How are we to live in the world?”

         And so we come to this apparent laundry list of moral instructions.  Don’t do this.  Don’t do that.  No more of this.  Get rid of that.  As Stan Mast continues, “How can we keep from preaching a check list morality that can drive us either to despair because we cannot live by the list or to self-righteousness because we think we have checked off each item on the list? “

        

         Well, I am not going to preach to you this morning by warning you not to lie, not to be angry, not to hold a grudge, not to use harmful words.  That perspective could too easily morph into a fire and brimstone sort of sermon, and I am not that sort of preacher.  More importantly though, such a checklist is so narrow, and the Gospel message is anything but narrow.  It is expansive and inclusive and abundant.  So rather than look at what we cannot do, let’s look at what we can do.

         Lutheran pastor Brian Woken puts it this way:  “We have all seen countless "No Parking" signs. I have never seen one that said "Feel free to park here and have a great stay." It is almost always easier to define limits than it is to promote opportunities.

         Consider the limits (the author of this letter) lists: stealing, evil talk, bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling, slander, malice. It probably isn't difficult to list the times we have seen others cross these limits, or the times we ourselves have done so.

         On the other hand, the opportunities that are alternatives to these are less specific and more expansive: labor and work honestly, share with the needy, use words that build up and give grace, be kind, tenderhearted and forgiving. These are limitless in opportunity! Our life in Christ is not seen chiefly in the things we avoid. It is seen instead in the ways we live beyond ourselves, for the sake of others and of the gospel.”

         So what does it mean to get rid of your anger and bitterness?  What does it mean to have no more shouting and insults?  What does it mean to be kind and tender-hearted?  What has the church really done to distinguish itself along these lines?  And what about us?

         As I said, I am not going to preach a fire breather sermon here.  And I am also not going to fill this time with cute anecdotes and funny sermon illustrations either.  We are going to approach these verses in a different way this morning.

         I am going to read you excerpts from three documents that illustrate the efforts that church people have undertaken to more fully live as the author of this letter to the Ephesians calls us to live if we are indeed followers of Jesus. After each reading, we will respond as a congregation with a song (What Does the Lord Require of You?).

         The first document emerges from a faith community in the Loire Valley in France. Between 1940 and the end of World War II, residents of Le Chambon sur Lignon and the surrounding villages helped thousands of Jews and others survive.

The community’s pastor urged the congregation to give shelter to any person who asked for it. Despite obvious danger, they rescued Jews, dissidents, and refugees, believing it was their Christian obligation and duty to help their “neighbors” in need. Some 5,000 people passed through Le Chambon and the surrounding villages from 1940 until the war’s end.

       At that time, the pastors of this community wrote the following declaration to their congregation. In many ways it is like the letter to the Ephesians.  Here are some extracts:

       “...let us abandon all divisions among Christians, and all squabbles among the French people. Let us stop labeling ourselves and others, because that is the language of scorn: let us abandon right and left, peasants, workers, intellectuals, proletarians and plutocrats, all the terms we use to accuse each other of some wrongdoing or other. Let us learn to trust each other again, to receive each other, to welcome each other, reminding ourselves that every time we come together, like the early Christians, we are brothers and sisters.

       Loving, forgiving, doing good to our adversaries is our duty. Yet we must do this without giving up, and without being cowardly.

We shall resist whenever our adversaries demand of us obedience contrary to the orders of the gospel. We shall do so without fear, but also without pride and without hate...”

CONGREGATIONAL SUNG RESPONSE

         Now, if WWII seems like a long time ago, let’s fast forward to 2009 and the second document, the Charter of Compassion. Karen Armstrong, a former Roman Catholic nun, initiated it, challenging us, as the author Ephesians had millennia before, to be kind and tender hearted, calling us all to lives of compassion. 

         “The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect. 

         It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and empathically from inflicting pain.

To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others—even our enemies—is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.



         We therefore call upon all men and women to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings—even those regarded as enemies.



         We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries.

Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensable to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.”

CONGREGATIONAL SUNG RESPONSE

         The final document is one that originated last year right here in Maine.  It is the Maine Council of Churches’ Covenant of Civil Discourse.  The Maine Council of Churches is an ecumenical non-profit organization whose mission is to seek common ground and work for the common good, believing that the fate of our democracy depends upon truthful and respectful interactions among us all, especially when we hold differing views.  The Council developed this document to present to our state and federal elected representatives.

“I hereby commit:

1. To act respectfully toward others, including those who oppose me in public debate, and to attempt to understand others' point(s) of view. I extend this attitude of respect to all those engaged in civil discourse in the United States.

2. To refrain from personal attacks, while maintaining the right to vigorously disagree.

3. To refrain from making statements which characterize my opponents as evil.

4. To refuse to make untrue statements in defense of my position.

5. To value honesty, truth, and civility while striving to find workable solutions.

6. To expect any person, party, campaign or organization working on my behalf to meet these same standards for civil discourse, and to disavow statements that violate these standards.

CONGREGATIONAL SUNG RESPONSE

         All three of these documents give us much to think about both as individuals and as a Christian community.  Let’s take a moment to reflect on what each one said.

         First, we may never have to choose whether or not to do what the villagers in the Loire Valley did.  However, as individuals and as the church today, we are called to answer  important questions that arise out of this document:  Who are the ones needing shelter in our world today?  Who are the refugees?  Is it the homeless man with the sign on the street corner in Portland?  Are they the immigrants who do not qualify for health care?  Who are our “neighbors” in need?  How, as a church and as individuals, are we called to respond?

         Likewise, we may never memorize the Charter of Compassion, and we may forget some of its finer points.  However, as individuals and as the church today, we are called to answer  important questions that arise out of the Charter:  How might we as individuals and as a church be more compassionate? Is it enough to spend a week at Maine Seacoast Mission rehabbing mobile homes? Can we be compassionate neighbors without understanding the possibly different perspectives and life choices of those we serve?

         And finally, we may never be elected to the Maine legislature or to Congress.  We may never run for any public office, but the need for civil discourse in our lives remains – as we communicate with our congregation, our children, our spouse, our parents, our boss.  And so, as individuals and as the church today, we are called to answer important questions that arise out of this covenant:  What do we as individuals do about our quickness to judge:  I am right, and you are wrong because you disagree with me?  In situations when tempers are about to flare, how do we stop ourselves from speaking and instead listen?  How do we seek first to understand and then to be understood?

         How are we who say we are Christians supposed to live in the world? How are we supposed to treat one another? Perhaps the prophet Micah spoke the answer best eons ago:  What does the Lord require of you?  To do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with your God.

By Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine