Luke 12:22-34 "Worry and Fear"

          Come and time travel with me – not all the way back to the first century when Jesus sat on a hillside and taught his followers about that worry and fear and even material possessions cluttered up their lives, taught them that they, even then, could now and again glimpse God’s Kingdom, God’s dream for the world, taught them that they could always find their hearts if they simply looked at what they valued most in life.

No – we will not go that far back in time.  Come and time travel with me to the year 1347. The Black Plague was raging across Europe, and people by the thousands were dying each day in fields and cities all across that part of the world. However, even worse than the plague itself was the fact that no one knew what was causing the horrendous symptoms and outrageous death toll.  Life was short, to be sure, but this was madness.

To say that people were worried and afraid would be an understatement.  The epidemic was so much more far-reaching and capricious and malevolent than anything they had ever experienced before.  

No surprisingly, some people began to suspect that a vengeful and angry God was causing the rash of deaths. They got to thinking that only by appeasing God would the spread of disease finally cease.

To that end, in Lubeck, Germany, the townspeople decided to appeal to God for forgiveness and put an end to the death all around them. They began bringing enormous amounts of money, jewels, and other miscellaneous riches to the local churches and monasteries. Surely they figured what better place to find God than in a church, and what better way to appease an angry God than by confessing their sinfulness by renouncing some of the wealth they had accumulated, often at the expense of others?

However, one monastery refused their offerings. The monks and priests were convinced that the money was contaminated with whatever was spreading the plague.  Consequently, they barred the monastery gates and refused to allow the citizens to enter. 

Needless-to-say, the townspeople were frantic.  In their terror, they picked up their valuables - coins, gold, and jewels - and heaved them over the monastery walls. However, like I said, the monks did not want this potentially contaminated wealth, so they threw it all back. Then the citizens then tossed everything back inside, and monks threw it all back outside. 

This game of catch continued for hours - riches thrown back and forth - until the brothers finally gave up and allowed the detritus of the town’s wealth to remain. As the story goes, within hours, piles 3 and 4 feet high filled the monastery courtyard, and for months following the incident – some say for years - the coins and jewels remained untouched.

Oh, the lengths that we will go to when fear and worry overwhelm us!  And yet, in this Bible passage we just read, Jesus tells us that fear and worry are for naught.  Both can be expressed in so many different ways, and both simply clutter up our lives. Fear and worry take up space that would be better given over to what Jesus calls the Kingdom, that way of life about which he taught and was grounded in all that he stood for. Life is too short for worries and fear, he seemed to be saying, especially when God’s dream for the world is at stake.

In this passage we just heard, when Jesus spoke about worry and fear, he used vivid examples that would have resonated with his audience.  As blogger Janice Green reminds us, in ancient Palestine, “people raised their own food, made their own clothes, and lived in homes we would consider sub-standard in our day and time. The primary modes of travel was by foot, by donkey, or camel. The average person’s wardrobe would probably have fit in a suitcase. Their water was drawn in pots from public wells”.

Against that economic reality, Jesus told these people who flocked around him, hanging on his every word, “Do not worry about food….Do not worry about clothing…..Do not worry about the essentials of life.” Life is too short when God’s dream for the world is at stake.

Easy for him to say, right?  Eyes would have opened wide at his outlandish statements, and heads would have shaken in disbelief at his words.  After all, Jesus was talking to men who were never sure where their family’s next meal would come from, who could not always provide milk on the table for their children. “Do not worry about food.”   Jesus was talking to women who knew their daughter’s sandals were too small and blistered her heels, who realized that if their son’s tunic tore one more time, it could not be repaired.  “Do not worry about clothes.”

In the midst of the jaw-dropping that his sermon evoked, Jesus went on to imagine a creation where God would provide the necessities for living a simple life.  And so his listeners began to imagine a world different from the one they had always known. 

They conjured up a world where even the birds never hungered.  They could almost hear the ravens raucously cawing out their thanks.  They pictured a world where even the flowers were clothed in beauty.  They could just see in their mind’s eye the white lilies swaying their gratitude in the field.  

Jesus then asked the pivotal question, “How much more valuable are you than birds – than flowers?”  The listeners – illiterate though they were - knew the answer intuitively: We are sons and daughters of God, made in the image of the Holy One, and we are capable of being so much more than we are. We are worth “a great deal more” than an old crow or even a lily.  Surely God will provide, so we can simply live.

And then Jesus ended his soliloquy with yet another question: “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?  Don’t you know that life is too short for worrying and fear when God’s dream is at stake?”

Easy for you to say, Jesus. Do you understand how much we have to worry about these days – our children, our grandchildren, our nation, our world, climate change, polarization, declining church participation, mass shootings, hate crimes, job security, how we stack up against the expectations everyone puts on us?  What’s notto worry about?  

And yet, Jesus’ question rings true. Worry, in the end, changes nothing. What is the saying?  Worry is interest on a loan you may never need to take out.  Life is too short when God’s dream for the world is at stake.

For the next few moments, let’s us – you and I - be like the people who listened to Jesus long ago.  Let’s imagine a different world.  Let’s conjure up a world where worry and fear do not encroach on our living. Would we find a relationship between our anxieties and what scares us most, on the one hand, and our ability to live into the Kingdom, to live out the teachings of Jesus, to realize God’s dream for the world on the other?

What if, during these remaining weeks of Lent, we intentionally tried to let go of the worry and fear that clutters our hearts? What if, into that heart space we freed up, we intentionally tried to let the Kingdom in, that way of life embodied in Jesus and his ministry?  

Are you game?  Hope so because here are some basic questions to consider.  What do you fear the most?  That you won’t be as good or proficient as people think you should be? That you aren’t who people presume you are?  

What do you worry about?  Having enough money to retire on?  Enough money to pay back student loans?  How about your job?  And your work-life balance?

What keeps you up at night?  Your children?  Your marriage?  Your health? Another mass shooting?  Donald Trump?

What if, instead of worrying about and fearing whatever presses in on your life, what if, for just a moment, you trusted in God or Spirit or who whatever you want to call that Something that is bigger than yourself, what if you could let go of those worries and fears?  Just hand them over – and see what happens.  Would you feel at peace?  Would your heart fill up with compassion?

We are going to find out.  You have a small piece of paper attached to your bulletin. It is disappearing paper because it dissolves in water.  Take a moment now and write down one thing that worries you or that you fear.  And I will invite you to come forward and drop your paper into the bowl of water, stir it around, and watch it disappear.  

This ritual action, of course, is our symbolic way of giving our worries and fears to God, perhaps for just this time in worship, but that is OK.  It is a chance to feel unburdened, a chance to trust in Something bigger than yourself, a chance to know that you are more precious than the birds in the air and the lilies in the field.

PEOPLE COME FORWARD 

The question for us this morning – and really all through the season of Lent is this: How can we clear out the clutter in our hearts and create space for God to flourish instead?  You will have to decide whether letting go of your worries and fears as we just did symbolically creates that space.  It strikes me as better than tossing our possessions back and forth over a monastery wall – though getting rid of some of that excess material clutter in our lives would not be a bad thing – but that is a topic for another sermon.  

Anyway, if the letting go that we did was helpful, then I encourage you to make a commitment to continue doing so regularly and intentionally during the remainder of Lent – through prayer or meditation or getting your own disappearing paper or simply finding your quiet center.

You see, in the end, as Jesus pointed out to his followers, life is too short for worries and fears we cannot control, especially when God’s dream for the world is at stake..  It is like Dr. Seuss pointed out in his poignant poem:

How did it get so late so soon,

It's night before it's afternoon.

December is here before it's June.

My goodness how the time has flewn.

How did it get so late so soon?

         My prayer for you during these last couple of weeks of Lent – even as time whizzes by - is that you can open your hearts and trustingly relinquish whatever it is that keeps you up at night – and that in the open heart space, you can live more fully and meaningfully into the Kingdom – because, after all, life is short, especially when God’s dream for the world is at stake.

         Let me conclude now with some advice from Baptist pastor, Brett Younger: 

·      Life is short, so live every day as if it were your last, because some day you'll be right.

·      Life is short, so do what you love to do and give it your best.  If you don't love what you're doing and can't give it your best, think seriously about getting out of it.

·      Life is short, so recognize that today is the only day you have, eat dessert first, read good books. 

·      Life is short, so tell the truth, take care of this day, dance.

·      Life is short, so listen to the people you love, tell them how much they mean to you, visit someone else's mother in the nursing home. 

·      Life is short, so recognize that every day is a special occasion, do something interesting, have some fun, and choose to be happy.

·      Life is short, so forgive. Look past the faults of others just like you hope they will do for you. 

·      Life is short, so surround yourself with gracious people, hug your friends, care for someone you haven't cared for.

·      Life is short, so be courageous, take a chance, live so that when your life flashes before your eyes, you'll have plenty to watch. 

·      Life is short, so embrace the possibilities, try something new, see that every day is an opportunity, dream, but don't just dream, follow those dreams.

·      Life is short, so breathe and think deeply, don't give your heart to that which won't fill your heart, make the changes that will make the difference.

·      Life is short, so celebrate God's eternity, make time for the things that matter, don't leave yourself regretting things you didn't do. 

And I would add – life is short, so clear out the clutter, so your heart is emptied of rear and worry – and filled instead with compassion.

Luke 10:38-42 "Finding the Quiet"

         As the human race, the pinnacle of all creation, (or so we have convinced ourselves), we have become really good at multi-tasking these days. Long ago, we far surpassed the ability to walk and chew gum at the same time.  

Nowadays, we can hold our phone in one hand and the steering wheel of our car in the other. Some of us have even mastered texting and driving at the same time.  We can seamlessly follow a recipe and cook dinner even as we simultaneously help with chemistry homework  or geometry proofs.  We are adept at concurrently listening to a friend in trouble while creating a grocery shopping list in our mind.  Our body can be in one place, and our brain somewhere totally different.

Once when I was doing a training walk for the Komen breast cancer walk when we lived in Cumberland , I witnessed a man driving way too fast down Greely Road (He must have been late for work).  Not only that, he was looking into his rear view mirror and shaving.  Seriously! He had a razor in one hand, and was holding his face in the other.  He was keeping the car on the road, I guess, by using his knee to manipulate the steering wheel.  

One hopes that he had at least taken the time to say a tiny prayer begore he backed his car out of the driveway, a prayer that nothing would cross the road in front of him.

         There was a study presented to Congress in the 1960’s that outlined all the new labor-saving devices that would be coming along in the future.  The study estimated that, when they were operational, we would only work an average of 15 hours a week.  The conclusion of the study was that our primary problem would be what to do with all this time on our hands. 

Yet, here we are – with at least three quarters of us working more than 40 hours a week, and only 57% of us taking our allotted vacation time each year.  Whereas time away like that used to be similar to an on-off switch, now it is little more than a dimmer switch – so concerned are we about what might happen if we were truly away from work for a week -  or even just a couple of days.  And yes - here we are – getting an average of two hours less sleep a night than our ancestors did a hundred years ago.

No doubt about it:  we have become really good at going, going, going and continuously doing several things at once. I suspect that most of us feel that we could not keep up with life if we did not.  In a nutshell,  we would make Martha proud!  

We are so like her in the brief  Gospel story we just  heard.  I mean, Martha could throw together a shepherd’s pie, double a recipe for hummus, brew some coffee, heat the water for tea, and pick the very best olives from the ancient twisted tree in the back yard in no time flat – all the while polishing the silver and doing a quick wash of the best china dishes that had been sitting idle on the shelf since the last guest had left a few weeks back.  

Martha was a veritable whirlwind in the kitchen.  She is our unofficial patron saint of multitasking , and Jesus called her on it one evening when he and a few friends dropped by for dinner. Of course, I cannot blame Martha for pulling out all the stops and throwing a darn good party.  Such was the expectation for women in her day.  The cultural norm was one of radical welcome and unbounded hospitality for whomever might drop by.  

 Martha  clearly knew her Holy Scripture/the Torah well .  She could never quite forget the story in Genesis about Sarah putting on that sumptuous meal for the three strangers who turned out to be angels in disguise. They had showed up at hers and Abraham’s tent unannounced and out of the blue right there at dinner time.  Martha always remembered the moral of that story: too  Who knows when you might be entertaining angels unawares? 

And on this night, it was Jesus who had come to call!  He was not only a family friend, but he also had become an increasingly popular (though unorthodox) rabbi, a man who was gathering quite a following.  

         So – there was Martha, our unofficial patron saint of multitasking , clearly in her element.  She was able to take cold food from the ice chest at one time, put hot food on the stove at another time, and make it all come out at once —and with everybody having a walloping good time to boot!   We should not be  at all surprised to find her  rattling around in the kitchen amidst her pots and pans, up to her elbows in lamb and mint and chickpeas and olive oil and garlic.  

However, Martha was self-reflective enough to realize that at least a part of her wanted to be listening to what Jesus had to say.  She could hear his lilting voice and the occasional laughter coming from the dining room.  No wonder she was irked by her sister, Mary, who had managed to not  lift a finger to extend  the expected hospitality to their guests!  

Mary was the dreamer in the family, and Martha sometimes wondered  resentfully just how firm her grasp of reality might be at times.  Like now, for example:  There she sat at Jesus’ feet, her arms hugging her knees close, listening, making time to soak in the words of this mesmerizing teacher and friend, not even realizing that her sister was in the kitchen, doing the women’s work, all alone.  Mary - the patron saint of dreamers – or shirkers - perhaps?

Maybe it was her sister’s look of placid but rapt attention that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Clearly something threw Martha over the edge.  That much we know.  Can we blame her though?  I mean, Martha was working like crazy – trying to pull off a miracle - multitasking at its very best, and Mary was sitting at the feet of Jesus doing absolutely nothing.  

No wonder Martha stormed out of the kitchen, soot from the fire smudged on her forehead and left cheek, her hair pulled back in a hastily formed bun, sweat from the heat of the stove staining her robe and plastering a few loose hairs to the side of her face.

“Hey, Jesus, yo, don’t you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen and left everything up to me to do? Tell her to lend me a hand.”  Martha could barely keep her resentment in check, and surely  she knew that she had committed a big cultural faux pas. 

I mean, she could just as easily have taken Mary aside and reamed her out in the privacy of the kitchen – or out back by the ancient olive tree with its twisted branches.  Of course, being so public in her displeasure allowed Jesus to respond and put some much needed perspective on the situation. However, his response did not really help a whole lot , and it has been the subject of controversy and misinterpretation ever since.  

“Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.”

Now what is that supposed to mean?  That it is better to sit around discussing and analyzing the politics of the day rather than actually participating in the political process?  That it is better to read the Bible than it is to live day-to-day what the Bible says?

Oh, Jesus, you make things so difficult at times.  The least you could have done was tell Martha that you appreciated her efforts in the kitchen, that the hummus was out-of- this-world, and that the shepherd’s pie was the very best you had ever tasted.  And maybe Jesus did say those things, but the Gospel writer just did not see fit to include them in the narrative.  

         Whether Jesus complimented Martha on her cooking skills or not, I do not think in responding to Martha’s tirade that he was making a judgment about the relationship  between being the unofficial patron saint of multitasking and that of dreamers and shirkers or about the relationship between working and learning.  I do not think that Jesus was creating an either/or situation.  However, I do think that this incident allowed him to point out the way to a richer and fuller life centered on God, something we all ought to be seeking.

         Jesus tells Martha that she is anxious and distracted about many things, as many Bible translations phrase it.  Mary, in turn, has chosen the one thing. And that one thing is, what?  That is a tantalizing detail missing from the story.

Do you remember the film "City Slickers”? It is about three old friends, men in the midst of impending midlife crises trying to reconcile their urban (and urbane)  yuppie lifestyle with something else. And so they decide to spend a vacation  together going on a cattle drive - helping some seasoned cowboys herd their cattle across the great plains of the American West.  In doing so, they hope to get in touch with their deeper selves and figure out the meaning of life.

The boss of this cattle drive is a leathery old cowboy.  He is mean and tough, and he can do anything with a lasso or a whip or a knife. He is also very wise.

In one of the more serious scenes of this comedy, he is riding alongside one of the city slickers, and their conversation turns philosophical. 

The city boy  comments to the old cowboy:  “Your life makes sense to you." 

To which the cowboy replies: "You city folk. You worry a lot. How old are you? 38?"

"39," the man says.

"You all come up here about the same age. You spend fifty weeks getting knots in your rope and you think two weeks up here will untie them for you. None of you get it."

He pauses a minute and then he goes on, "You know what the secret to life is?"

"No, what?" says the city slicker.

And the old wizened cowboy says, "One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that, and everything else don't mean nothing."

"That's great," says his companion, "but what's the one thing?"

The old cowboy looks at him  and smiles: "That's what you've got to figure out."

I think Jesus understood that Martha’s constantly expanding “to do” list never left her time to figure out what was important, never allowed her to simply be  fully in the present moment  I think Jesus understood that when your life is in a whirlwind, you just cannot take note of things around you that may be beckoning to live within you.   I think that Jesus understood that we all make choices, and we all have priorities. I think that is what Jesus meant by his cryptic remarks to Martha.

 It is as theologian Paul Tillich once remarked,. "There are innumerable concerns in our lives and in human life generally," he says, "which demand attention, devotion, passion. But they do not demand infinite attention, unconditional devotion, ultimate passion. They are important, often very important, for you and me and for the whole of humankind. But they are not ultimately important....”

I would submit that this Bible story really is not about Martha and Mary at all.  It is about us – and about the choices we make – and on what basis we make those choices.  As Episcopal priest Michael Marsh noted,  “ Our choices can shape who we are.  They can establish in us patterns and habits of how we see and at, the words we speak, and the way we relate to each other.  Our choices can set a trajectory for our life.  Our choices make a difference.”

There was once  a couple going on a European vacation they had been planning for a long time.  Now, finally, they were standing in line at the airport waiting to check their numerous bags.  

The husband said to his wife, "I wish we had brought the piano." 

She replied, "Why? We've got sixteen bags already!" 

Her husband said, "Yes, I know-- but the tickets are on the piano!" 

Thank goodness for smart phones and online check in!

Seriously, how frustrating for each one of us when primary things become secondary, and the important things get lost in the push and pull we experience each day!  As one blogger I read this past week noted, “We can be taking care of our house, but not building a home. 

We can be living with our spouse, but not cultivating a marriage. I can serve faithfully at church, but not truly be serving the Lord. I can sing Christian songs and not really be worshipping. “

This Lenten worship series has been focused on reconnecting to our unhurried God, on slowing down because we move too fast, on not being a victim of our circumstances, but rather taking control of our lives and how we spend our time.  To that end, I have encouraged you to be more intentional, to reflect more on your priorities and  to look honestly for where God and Jesus and all that he stood for and this church as well fit on your “to do” list. 

 I have encouraged you to develop at least one Lenten practice that will offer you an opportunity each day  - if only briefly - to exist more in the present moment than in the future or in the past   Each Sunday, I have suggested and offered experiences here in worship that have the potential to encourage you to take time to be silent, to pray and meditate more regularly, and to give up as best you can some of the multitasking and living life in a constant state of busyness, like Martha did.   

That is what made her anxious, you know. Martha was pulled in so many directions that she could no longer see what was truly important – or maybe, even more tragic, she could see what was important but could not see her way clear to embrace it.  Her “to do” list was too long.  She did not think she could afford the time to just listen to Jesus, this man who emanated the goodness of God in his own person.

We are entering the second half of Lent this week – how time flies!  Let’s use these final weeks of this season of preparation for Easter to continue – or maybe to begin – a contemplative practice that will encourage us to be a bit more like Mary, who  chose not to be a victim of her culture but rather took control of her life, who was able to focus – at least for that time before dinner – on that which is most important for us who say we are Christians – the voice of Jesus beckoning us to invite him into our lives not just Sunday morning but every day, to listen quietly for the Holy Spirit and what the Spirit might e telling us, and to embrace and live out all that he stood for. 

         

John 1:43-50 "Come and See"

         Jesus was looking for a few good people who had the potential to embrace his passion for God’s dream.  He found Andrew and Peter first.  According to the writer of the Gospel of John, they were initially followers of John the Baptist – until their mentor clothed in his usual camel’s hair with his crazy diet of wild locusts and honey told them that Jesus was the One, Jesus was the Lamb of God, Jesus was the Messiah.  So, they hitched their star to Jesus’ wagon, and the three of them journeyed together to Galilee.  That is where Jesus found Philip – and that is where our story for today begins.  

         Phillip was awfully excited when he encountered Jesus because he immediately put two and two together.  He had never met John the Baptist, so no one had told him that Jesus was the One.  

As far as Philip was concerned, this was big news indeed. After all, Israel had been expecting the Messiah, the Anointed One, to show up for a long, long time now.  He also knew that posters plastered around town and even posting to Facebook or announcing it on Twitter just would not cut the mustard when it came to getting people to understand that this man Jesus was the One they had been waiting for. 

Philip had a real story to tell about the Good News that Jesus would be a real game changer going forward, and Phillip also intuitively understood that to create a real movement around this man, well, signup sheets on bulletin boards just would not do the trick.  

Consequently, Philip jumped into this evangelism business quickly – and started talking up Jesus.  He did not know exactly all that Jesus was about – and he was not sure he could even put it all into words.  However, that would not stop him from trying; his passion was that great – and, face it - enthusiasm can go a long way!

         Nathanial was the first person that Philip ran into, bubbling over with his positive energy. “Nathanial, guess what? We have found him, you know, the One we have been waiting for.  Andrew, Peter, and I:  We have found him – and he is gathering some of us together – and we will have great adventures and we will travel and eat in restaurants and sleep in barns and maybe even have campfires in the evening.”

         Nathanial listened as he sat alone contemplating his naval under a fig tree. “Yeah, OK, go on,” he said with a sort of skeptical look on his face and tone in his voice.  “Who is it this time?  Who is this guy?”

         “It’s Jesus, Joseph’s son, you know, from Nazareth.” Philip continued excitedly.

         “Nazareth?  You have got to be kidding! You expect me to believe that the Messiah hails from Nazareth?”  Nathanial replied, his scorn and disbelief coming through loud and clear when he said the word, “Nazareth”.  You know, “Naaaa-zareth?”

         And then, of course, the clincher, the conversation stopper.  “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

         And Nathanial was right to question Philip’s unbridled enthusiasm for a man the latter had just met a day earlier.  You see, Nathanial was a good Jew – an excellent Jew, in fact - and he knew all about the One they had all been searching for.  

As blogger Russell Smith wrote, “Nathaniel was passionate about Israel. (He) longed for God to redeem Israel. He longed for God to send a messiah who would lead Israel into a new era of international prominence. Like so many Israelites, he bound up his sense of purpose and worth with his people. And yet he suffered only disappointment. The Maccabean revolt a century and a half before had failed to establish Israel’s prominence. Prophets and preachers wandered throughout Israel proclaiming that the messiah was coming, yet Israel was still in Roman chains. Nathaniel was becoming cynical and jaded. His attitude was ‘show me the money; I’ve heard all the claims, now let’s see some action.’”

Nathanial knew the Temple’s take on the Messiah by heart. The Messiah would be the son of David, not the son of some obscure carpenter named Joseph.  If the Messiah was a political type, he would arise from a bigger and more noteworthy town, a town with more influence.  If the Messiah was the priestly type, no question but that he would come from Jerusalem, the Holy City, the site of the Temple itself, the locus of theological debate, reflection, and education, and the seat of Jewish religious power.  

         But Nazareth?  Not a chance.  After all, Nazareth was a backwater undistinguished place.  As blogger Peter Woods noted, “Nazareth wasn’t a good place to put on your Curriculum Vitae as your place of origin. In fact, if there was Facebook back then, you wouldn’t acknowledge that you were from there on any social media. Nazareth was a dump.  It didn’t feature in any Old Testament prophecies. No great personage had come from there. It wasn’t the seat of any power and no great families hailed from Nazareth. It was a simple backwater town. No great schools, colleges, universities. There was nothing. Nazareth was nowhere.” 

 Nazareth probably had a population of only 500 or so, and it was situated far from any East-West trade route.  Nazareth was like when you are on the highway and see an exit sign for gas in some town you have never heard of, and, because the light for the reserve tank on your dashboard has just come on and, OK, be honest, you are also hoping for a MacDonald’s, you turn off the highway – and end up driving for miles before you see either the yellow arches or an Exxon or Mobil or Shell sign.

Nazareth sat in the hill country of Galilee, a region of fishing and farming – and, definitely, no Uber.  People from Nazareth had a distinctive regional accent (in other words, they spoke funny), and there were a lot of immigrants, foreigners, and people from away. 

         “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?  Hah! You have got to be kidding.  Now – run along, little boy, I have got better things to do sitting under my fig tree than dream of the Messiah coming out of Nazareth,” declared Nathanial.

         However, rather than being put off by Nathanial’s cynicism that was so clearly wrapped in that skeptical and negative response, Philip answered in the only way anyone evangelizing (because, that is what Philip was doing, evangelizing) ought to answer.  He did not argue or debate with Nathanial.  He did not come up with a laundry list of rational reasons for following Jesus.  He did not try to convince Nathanial with logic.  He simply said to him, “Well, you may not believe me, but come and see – and make your own decision.”

         And on that non-threatening basis alone, Nathanial did – and the encounter was clearly mind-blowing because he ended up proclaiming Jesus to be the Son of God and King of Israel – and, best of all, he ended up becoming one of his disciples. 

         Can anything good come out of Nazareth?  On the surface, it would appear not, but come and see.   Can anything good come out of the Raymond Village Community Church with its rural roots and its gray-haired congregation?  On the surface, it might appear to be too small, too tired, but come and see – and make your own decision. 

         I wonder if the future of our church might be bound up in our willingness to invite others to come and see, but more than that, to invite others to come and sharewhat we have found in this community – whatever that might be.  And so, I would challenge you this week to think about what it is that you have found in this faith community that keeps you coming back week after week or keeps you pledging year after year.  

If you were to invite someone to come and see, what is it about this church that you would want them to experience?  And is there a non-threatening way that does not get your stomach all tied up in knots to extend that invitation?

         I know that, in the end, the future of our church is without a doubt in God’s hands.  And I know that the Spirit which inspired Philip and even overcame the negative skepticism of Nathanial is out there too – or rather in here – swirling about – nudging us, encouraging us.  

However, I also know that the Spirit does not inspire in a vacuum.  The Spirit speaks through each one of us.  I have got to believe that God’s expectation is that, if our church is going to survive, we must find ways to say the words, “Come and see”, if we are ever going to create the desire and the curiosity necessary for those we meet to do just that: “Come and see.”

         However, there is more to this story about expectations and presumptions.  Can anything good come out of Nazareth?  Can anything good come out of each one of us? 

You know, if there is one thing that we as humans are really good at (unless we are pathological narcissists), it is putting ourselves down.  Who are we to talk up Jesus and the church?  We are too old, too shy, too inarticulate. 

We are just a single individual in a small church, albeit one with a big heart, that most people do not know about. But is that really all we are?  Or is there more to each one of us?  Good questions to reflect on, I think.

         As UCC pastor Jed Watson wrote, “How well do you see yourself? How well do you know yourself? Can you see yourself objectively, as you really are? Do you know the real you, in all of your complexity?  I think we often fail to see ourselves clearly - or adequately, for that matter. Our society and our culture condition us to think and feel about ourselves in certain ways – and with enormous limitations – ways that cannot help but cloud our vision.  

We are female.  We are single.  We are tired. We are busy. How we often fail to appreciate the good and positive and redeeming things about ourselves!  Negative self-perceptions cannot help but eclipse the light that others might see radiating from us. And sometimes it is our loved ones and friends, and even perfect strangers, who can see in us – and in our church - things that we honestly, genuinely do not see ourselves. 

‘Really? Me? This church?’ ‘Yeah, you, this church. Isn’t that obvious to you?’”

Can anything good come out of Nazareth?  Yes.  Can anything good come out of each one of us?  Yes. Can anything good and sustainable and reflective of God’s dream for the world come out of this church?  Yes. 

As your pastor, I see a group of people who can easily become discouraged and are a wee bit tired, but a group of people who love this church nonetheless.  I see a group of people who sometimes find it hard to believe that we – you and I - are the ones whom, as the Psalmist sang, God has awesomely and wonderfully made for ministry. I see a group of people who have gifts that they may not even know are gifts – organizational skills, wonderful voices, creativity, a sense of humor, dogged determination – and even some who can actually say to someone else (or at least post on Facebook):  Come and see.

Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Philip thought so – and eventually so did Nathanial.  Can anything good come out of this church? Your Visioning Team – and I as your Pastor - think so, and we confidently expressed that optimism at the Annual Meeting last week, hoping that you will come to that conclusion too and join wholeheartedly in the ministries of our church going forward.  They may not be ministries as we have always done them. They may lead us down paths we have never experienced.  

They may make our church seem less like what we always presumed our church would be.  They may – just may – answer Nathanial’s question differently than we would expect. Can anything good come out of our church?  Yes. Come and see.

Can anything good come out of each one of us – particularly in our relationship to this church?  As your pastor, my hope is that, by simply feeling comfortable being our God-made selves – seeking peace, working for justice, following the way of Jesus - something good will come out of each one of us as well.

Now, you each have a drawing of a lightbulb attached to your bulletin.  Be thinking of the gift, the light, that you bring to this church. And if you are a guest today? You be thinking too. Think about the gift that you offer to the broader community here in Raymond – or might someday offer to this church. 

What are you good at? What do other people say you are good at?  Are you good at teaching, at singing, at leading worship? Are you good at organizing projects or motivating others?  Are you a good artist?  Are you a good cookie baker? Mashed potato maker?  Are you good at fixing things?  Are you good at keeping people’s spirits up when times are tough?  Are you a good conversationalist?  

Are you good at making people see the humorous side of a situation?  Are you good at saying to people in one way or another: ”Come and see”?

Between now and our final hymn, I challenge each one of you to write down on your light bulb what you are good at, what has the potential to make you shine in this church family or in the Raymond community.  You see, as we sing our closing hymn, I am going to invite you to bring those light bulbs forward and lay them on the communion table.  They will be a visible sign of the gifts – the light – that we bring to the ministries of our church or to the work of the greater community.  And perhaps we can think of all those light bulbs shining when, in our own ways, we say to our neighbors and friends “Come and see” knowing that we will have something powerful and profound and so like Jesus to show them.

                  

Psalm 23 "Slow Down: A Lenten Series"

            Some of us wrote the words on flash cards because we had to memorize them for  Sunday School decades ago.  At the time, though we could scarcely believe it, we were told that one day we would be glad we knew the 23^rdPsalm by heart.  “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…”And those teachers were probably right.

After all, we have listened to the familiar rhythm of its phrases or even silently read the words off the prayer cards that the funeral director handed out as we signed the guestbook .  “ Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…”

We might recall movie actors reciting phrases from this most well-known of all the psalms during scenes of overwhelming crisis and impending death.  As the decks of the great unsinkable ocean liner flood, and the ship begins to sink in “Titanic”:  “For thou art with me…”  Spoken by frightened soldiers about to go into battle or by commanding officers seeking to inspire confidence in new recruits, the words of the Psalm crop up in “Jarhead” and “Full Metal Jacket”:  “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness….I will fear no evil…”

Bibles are left open to these verses in hospital rooms and next to nursing home beds as a patient or resident reaches the end of the line and is nearing death.  “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”  

In those circumstances, we who whisper the familiar words we memorized so long ago do so, of course,  in the hope that they will undergird our parent or child or friend as each one moves from this life to whatever it is that comes next.  “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever….”

I think it is a shame that this 23^rdPsalm is so closely associated with dying, even though untold millions have found comfort at deathbeds and funerals - which, of course, is not a bad thing.  However,  this psalm is really one of affirmation.  In the end, it is a psalm of life and provides direction for us today while we are living, not after we are dead.  If we only consider it in the midst of death, we are missing its power to shape us and even transform us now, today, while we live.

That being said, of course, what can a preacher preach about these familiar words that has not already been said before? Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann in his book,  The Message of the Psalms, begins his commentary on Psalm 23 with these words: "It is almost pretentious to comment on this psalm. The grip it has on biblical spirituality is deep and genuine. It is such a simple statement that it can bear its own witness without comment.”  His words are perhaps a slightly more eloquent declaration than the one Joe expressed when he asked me earlier in the week what I could possibly say about the 23^rdPsalm in today’s sermon.

And yet, here I am – your pastor and teacher – commenting on these familiar words.  However, maybe I do so not to offer you a unique insight – an aha moment -  but rather to remind you of two things that have always stood out for me when reflecting on this psalm. The first is its message of hope grounded in its firm declaration of our abiding relationship with God.  The second is the direction it offers us in the tangled, busy, stress filled, and often fearful times we live in.

Within the opening words of the psalm lies its message of hope.  “The Lord is my shepherd…”It is funny how we often emphasize the word “shepherd” rather than “Lord” when we recite the familiar words.  “The Lord is my Shepherd” we often say and seldom “The Lord is my shepherd.”  

And yet, for the writer of the Psalm, what was important was who the shepherd was, and it was not the kings or monarchs of ancient Israel though they were often described as shepherds.  The Lordis my shepherd was a bold declaration.  And likewise for us, in the end it is not the presidents and political leaders of today that we, like sheep, are called to follow.  No - the Lordis my shepherd. 

In other words,  God/the Lord is my protector and the one I tag along after.  God/the Lord is the one in whom I put my trust.  God/the Lord is the one who will give each one of us all we need for a rich and meaningful  life.  God/the Lord  is the one who will hold out a hand and lead us home.  God/the Lord is my shepherd.

It is as Rabbi Harold Kushner said in an interview with “Religion and Ethics Newsweekly”:  “People who have been hurt by life get stuck in ‘the valley of the shadow,’ and they don’t know how to find their way out. And that’s the role of God. The role of God is not to explain and not to justify but to comfort, to find people when they are living in darkness, take them by the hand, and show them how to find their way into the sunlight again.”  The Lordis my shepherd. It is that intimate and personal relationship that we have with God that is so beautifully proclaimed – albeit in a most subtle way – in this Psalm.

If you had ever studied Hebrew, you would have discovered that a  profound theological shift takes place in the very middle of this Psalm.  You see, in the original Hebrew, there are exactly twenty-six words before the statement “You are with me” (or “Thou art with me.”) and twenty-six words after it.

            Prior to that verse, the Shepherd is referred to in the third person.  “He makes me to lie down…He leads me beside the still waters….He restores my soul.”  Then suddenly the syntax changes  - right smack in the middle of the psalm .  Much to the horror of strict grammar nerds and English majors, the Psalmist no longer refers to the Shepherd – to God –in the third person.  The Psalmist refers to the Holy One as “you”.  “You are with me….”You prepare a table before me…”  

That subtle switch in grammar puts a whole new slant on our relationship with God.  In a single wording change, our relationship is transformed into an intimate and personal one – a relationship of “you” and “me” .  We are like a couple – us and God.  We have the kind of relationship where we can look into one another’s eyes and hold one another’s hands.  

For me, that you/me or I/thou relationship we have with God is transformative.  You see, for us who say we are Christians, through Jesus, we embark on a new relationship  – one that is so very hopeful.  When we find ourselves weak and in the dark and uncertain about our future or the future of our world, when all the color of life is drained, and we are left with only gray, when our very souls are downcast, in this psalm we find a nugget of hope.  We are like the spiders of which poet Mary Sarten wrote: “Spiders are patient weavers. They never give up. Who knows what keeps them at it? Hunger, no doubt. And hope.”

            And so, if you have come to worship this morning needing to have your soul painted in the restorative green of quiet meadows, needing to get your life back after a particularly trying week, needing to be washed in quiet pools of hope, needing to find the silence and meditative time we promised ourselves during these Sundays in Lent, this psalm invites you to savor and relish the  imagery of verdant pastures and still waters.  The Lordis my shepherd.  There is food – good food – for the soul embodied in this psalm.  So – you who need to – eat – and eat heartily!

After all, what more could any of us want than the assurance that God is ever present, that there is, somewhere, rest for our weary souls?   As Presbyterian pastor Shannon Kershner writes,  “Clearly this claim at the center of the psalm, this promise that no matter what, the Shepherd, the only One in whom we trust, will never abandon us, not even in the most dangerous places—this is to be the promise in which we ground our lives.” The Lord is my shepherd.

However, if you are one who needs more than rest, if you have come to worship this morning seeking a  new direction, a path forward, this psalm is for you as well.  We can dig deeper into our reflection on these familiar words  by noting as Kerscher points out: “But not only does the Shepherd lead us through dangerous places (she writes), but when God is present in the shadow of death, in the dark valley, things change. The valley is transformed.”

Following all the comforting language about lush green meadows and quiet  pools of water, words that are a powerful invitation for self-care  in a crazy busy world, the psalmist offers the more disturbing image of a banquet, a five star meal in a five star restaurant – partaken in the presence of enemies. In my mind’s eye, I had always pictured this  scenario as a long wooden table set in the middle of some dust-blown battlefield, the casualties hygienically removed to hospitals or MASH units or morgues, and we sitting about the table feeling ever so brave because here we are eating in the presence of our enemies, in the presence of those we hate or fear or have not taken the time to understand, even those we have become disconnected from for whatever the reason over the years, all of them at a distance looking on, hungering as much as we had been hungering.

            This week, however, I read an essay by Eric Eines, who wrote in part: “Do you really think that God would welcome us to a table where we get to flaunt our pleasure in front of our enemies as if a bit of gloating … would be good for our souls? No, that wouldn’t be in keeping with the God of extravagant welcome and outrageous hospitality whom we see everywhere else in scripture.  Indeed, if we were to hoard the bounty for ourselves, Goodness and Mercy following us all the days of our lives would surely feel like stalking wouldn’t it?”

            I am almost embarrassed to admit that for so long I had read this part of the psalm so differently.  What if this table is set not only for us but for our enemies (or at least those who are not our friends) as well?  What if we were called to share a meal with the Muslim we have been taught to hate as a terrorist , with the Guatemalan refugee family we fear as drug dealers and rapists, with the elderly woman with dementia who needs her Depends changed, with the old bald homeless guy who smells?  And what about the people we have simply been too busy to connect with and be present for? What if all those people were seated around the banquet table imagined in the psalm with us.  After all, we do not always get to choose who is invited to the table.  

Would such a scenario change the way we think about those with whom we might make a connection?  After all, it is hard to hate or fear or ignore over filet mignon and a good bottle of Beaujolais.  Surely God would be there too….because….well, because the Psalmist tells us that the Shepherd has become a gracious host., calling us and  our enemies to dine together, turning our fear into celebration and even joy.

            It will not easy sitting at that table not knowing who will show up.  I am not sure how I would actually do in some of those situations.  I am not even sure that a meal with those we have no connection with would even work, but I have to hope and trust that it would be a start. 

 Some of us will surely get up from the table before the appetizers arrive, so unappealing is the company – and so unorthodox the cutlery (which we will get to in a minute).  However, some of us will stay and be curious about how this meal will work out.  You see, as Eric Eines described that table, “I think that the place setting at the table set before us in the presence of our enemies consists of long spoons and long forks.  It forces us to choose between heaven and hell .  We can look at the delectable food and starve because we are unable to feed ourselves and unwilling to feed our enemies. Or we can share the bounty of the green pastures and still waters (by feeding one another). 

Sure, just because we use our long spoons to offer food to the enemy does not assure that the enemy will offer food in return on his or her long spoon, but if there is to be any hope, it surely rests in offering nourishment not withholding it.”

            Perhaps that is the challenge of this 23^rdPsalm, all the while embedded in its imagery of solace and rest.  Perhaps that is why this psalm is a psalm of life, not death, because it offers us not only comfort and hope, but also direction.  In finding rest and sustenance  for our own souls, we also are given an opportunity to offer the same to the souls of those we meet and too often unknowingly discard along the way.