Seven Days

Genesis 1:1-2:4a

June 15, 2014/Father’s Day

I saw an interesting compilation of two pictures the other day.  Both pictures were of two girls.  In the first, a girl, dark haired, dark eyed and wearing a traditional head covering, was standing in front of a blackboard writing out some sort of lesson.  In the other picture, the young girl, fair skinned and red-haired, was looking into a microscope.  There was nothing particularly extraordinary about either picture.  But it was the captions that went along with both pictures that gave them their power.  The young girl at the blackboard was Muslim.  The caption for her picture read something like, “What Muslims are most afraid of.”  The caption underneath the picture of the young girl looking into the microscope read, “What Christians are most afraid of.” 

The implied message is that Muslims fear girls learning, and Christians fear girls learning science.  I know that these pictures and their captions are based on broad stereotypes of people of faith.  Yet stereotypes are conceived in reality.  Malala Yousafzai, a young Pakistani girl, was shot in the face by members of the Taliban, not only because she wanted to be educated, but because she outspokenly believes all girls should be educated.  The young Nigerian girls were kidnapped from their school by an extremist Islamic group who believes that the education of girls goes against God’s will.  These are radical views, and it is unfair and wrong to paint all Muslims with that same brush.  Again, though, we see how that stereotype has been lived out in the real world.

But the picture of the young Christian girl looking into a microscope has a basis in reality as well.  However for many Christians it’s not just the fear of girls learning science, it’s any Christian, male or female, learning science.  Again, it is unfair to paint all Christians with such a broad brush when it may be a minority of Christians who espouse a fear or mistrust of science.  But that is how we are seen by the non-Christian world.  That is how Christianity is often parodied and lampooned.  With the battle between creationism and evolution being publicly and loudly fought in many school systems, it’s not hard to see why we’re seen as being opposed to science.  Much of that fight is grounded in the passage from Genesis we have before us this morning.  Is this story of creation fact, meaning that all theories of the Big Bang or evolution are false?  What is the real answer?  Who wins?  Creationism or Evolution?    

Actually, I don’t think that’s the question that we’re meant to consider.  I know that I’m the one who brought it up, but now that I’ve got you thinking about creationism and the fear of science, I’m going to ask you to set all that aside.  Because this sermon is NOT about whether creationism is true or false.  It is not about evolution or whether God created the world in seven days as we understand seven days.  What I really hope is that we can see a deeper truth in this story, and that maybe we can recognize that the power of this story lies in its beauty.  Because that’s what I think it is, a beautiful story.

Already, I’m going to be in trouble with someone because I referred to the first account of creation in Genesis as story.  Yet as the adage says, “in for a penny, in for a pound.”   If I’m already in trouble for calling creation a story, then I might as well go all the way and call it a myth.  Yep, I said it.  Myth.  But in saying that, in calling this creation story myth, I am asking us to consider the idea that myth, story, and metaphor is not about fact or fiction.  To call this account of creation myth or mythical is not a claim of untruth.  Some of the greatest truths I’ve learned in my lifetime have come through the power of story.  The writer in me knows that I have been able to tell the truth about something through story or poetry in a far greater way than any term paper of fact I’ve ever written.  Facts are important, but I’m not trying to make a case for facts.  I’m trying to make a case for truth.  I think that while they work with one another, they are really different concepts.

Having said that, though, here is a fact we know from scholarship:  there are several creation stories from ancient peoples.  In our tradition, in Genesis, we have two accounts of creation.  These other creation stories or myths bear resemblance to our own; stories of the first peoples, great floods, the leaving of innocence and taking on the knowledge of good and evil.  That means that our creation story is not the only one.  But even without taking those other stories into account, Biblical scholarship has identified four unique and distinct sources of narrative that make up the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testament.  Those four sources are known as JEPD, or Jawhist, Eloihimist, Priestly and Deuteronomic.  Our passage in Genesis is from the P or Priestly source. 

While I am limited in my knowledge of the background of these terms, I do know that one priestly function is to offer blessing.  Blessing is not only fundamental to this story of creation it is infused in in its every aspect.  Each act of creation by God is a blessing.   Essayist Debie Thomas writes that God not only creates, but after each act of creation, God pauses.  God reflects on God’s creation.  God sees creation and calls it good.  Blessing. 

So it seems to me that for seven days, whether they are our 24 hour versions or something different, God creates and blesses and creates and blesses.  The rest that God takes on the seventh day is also a blessing; a blessing and a model that we don’t take seriously enough in our non-stop, busy lives.

The creation of the world is infused with God’s blessing.  I believe that to see the story of creation in this light is to see creation, all of creation, as a blessing.  So let’s not forget that part of that creation, part of that blessing, is us.  We are created, male and female, in God’s image. 

As far as I know, there is no scholarly agreement on what exactly made in God’s image, Imago Dei, means.  Is it the literal understanding that I learned growing up?  God has a human form, so we look like God; specifically men look like God and women are along for the ride?  Or is there a truth that goes beyond a literal understanding? 

Perhaps made in God’s image is not so much about how we look or the physical form we humans take.  Maybe it’s more about who we are or who we are meant to be; who we are created to be.  Maybe being made in God’s image is really a suggestion that, like all the rest of creation, we bear the mark of God’s handprint.  Or to put it in more scientific terms, we carry God’s DNA within our very being. 

I often hear people speak of feeling closest to God when they are in nature.  When they witness some stunning landscape or an awe-inspiring sunrise or sunset, they see God in those moments.  I know that when I stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon and looked at its colors and depth and vastness, I could see the distinct and glorious handprint of God in its beauty.  But if we too are a part of creation, born of those seven days of blessing, if we carry God’s DNA, then when we look at one another, shouldn’t we also see beauty?  Shouldn’t we also feel close to God because we are close to one another?  Not only are the heavens the work of God’s fingers, as the psalmist writes, but so are we.

Our shared story of creation tells us that for seven days God did the work of creation, pausing and reflecting and blessing as He did.  So let us give thanks for the creation, the blessing of God that is not only all around but in us.  Let us give thanks for those seven days, and may we remember that the DNA of God, the handprint of God is not only found in the earth and sky, the waters and the dry land, it is found in us.  Let’s think long and hard about that when we think about how we should be caring for God’s creation.  God created and blessed the world; God created and blessed us.  It is good.  Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”  Amen.

The Fabulous Spirit

Acts 2:1-21

June 8, 2014

            "We thank you, O God, for the gift of your fabulous Spirit." 

            A former moderator in John Knox Presbytery spoke those words during a prayer at a presbytery meeting many years ago.  This was early on in our time in Iowa, and I was very new to the presbytery, so I never got to know this particular moderator.  But I will never forget the fact that he referred to the Holy Spirit as fabulous.  Whatever else may have happened at the meeting that day is lost to me, but I have hung onto that description of the Spirit ever since, thinking all this time, "maybe I'll use that in a sermon someday."  It looks as though some day has arrived.

            Fabulous is a word I use on a regular basis.  For me it's my own personal aloha.  You can use it to say "hello."  "Oh it's so fabulous to see you!"  You can use it to say "goodbye." "You'll call me?  Fabulous."  It is an all-encompassing adjective of admiration.  "You look fabulous.  You sound fabulous.  Your hair, clothes, mind, fill-in-the-blank, is fabulous." 

            I find the word fabulous to be fabulous.  But while I use it consistently, I've never explored the etymology of the word.  So what does a word nerd do?  She goes to the dictionary. 

            While fabulous is a synonym for marvelous and incredible, it is linked, language wise, to fabled.  Something that is fabulous is fabled.  It is legendary.  Something that is fabulous is so extraordinary that it is found only in the stuff of myth or it is almost impossible to believe. 

            Let me be clear, by using the word fabulous to describe the Holy Spirit, I am not trying to say that the Spirit is not real.  I am not implying that it is mythical or legend.  But it is extraordinary.  The Spirit brings about extraordinary events.  The Spirit effects extraordinary change.  But let’s be honest, if we were to hear the story of Pentecost, the coming of the Spirit, in any other context than scripture, without any reference to the holy or sacred or God, what would we think?  We might be rather incredulous, because the story of Pentecost, as is the story of the Resurrection, is an extraordinary sounding story.   Some sort of wild wind blows through a group of people gathered in prayer.  This wind fills the house where these people are sitting, and if the wind weren't strange enough, divided tongues of flame appear above these peoples’ heads.  But the strangeness doesn't end there.  The next thing the people witnessing all of this see is each of these men speaking in the languages of every person represented in that large diverse crowd.  If someone was from Medes, that person heard the Spirit in his or her own language.  If someone was from Athens or Mesopotamia or Carthage or Cappadocia, each person heard and understood the words of the disciples in their own language.  If fabulous stems from fabled, then this was a fabulous Spirit indeed. 

            But if the story of Pentecost was only a fable or a legend or a fairy tale, then we might walk away from it thinking, "That was cool.  Hope they make a movie version."  But we do believe it happened.  We do believe it's true and real and genuine.  Why?  Because the story of Pentecost is not limited to this one event or this one day.  The story of Pentecost goes on throughout the book of Acts.  The disciples are transformed into apostles.  They find courage and strength they had never exhibited before.  The Peter who stands in our story and speaks to the crowds is not the Peter who tried to walk on water but was distracted and afraid by the waves and wind.  The Peter who preaches this powerful, persuasive sermon that opens the hearts and minds of so many, is not the Peter who grasped Jesus' true nature one minute, yet misunderstood Jesus' purpose the next.  This is a transformed Peter.  All of the disciples are transformed.  Their transformations take hold in the others folks they encounter so they are transformed as well.  And the gospel spreads like wildfire.  Those burning rings of fire above the heads of the gathered disciples, that wild wind that filled the upper room, were signs that the Holy Spirit, the wondrous, marvelous, astonishing, fabulous Spirit, was in their midst and in the world.  Nothing would ever be the same.

            But here's the rub.  I think we tend to live our lives as though everything is the same.  This is true for Pentecost.  This is true for the Resurrection.  We tend to live our lives as though everything is the same.  I know I've asked questions like this before, but what would it mean for us to live each day as though the Spirit, the fabulous Spirit, is moving through the world?  What would it mean for us to live each day confident that not only is the Spirit moving in the world and through the world, but that it is also moving in and through us? 

            Jesus breathed the Spirit into the disciples, and so it is breathed in us.  The Spirit descended like wind and flame into the disciples' midst, and so it descends into ours.  While we speak of the gift of the Holy Spirit and the fruits of the Spirit, we also speak of the Spirit's leading.  One of the points that a commentator made about this passage is that the Spirit is always ahead of the Church.  The Spirit is always leading us, although I think that we organize our churches and our lives as though the reverse were true.  But the Holy Spirit leads us.  And as Peter quoted the prophet Joel, with the power of the Spirit, old and young, male and female, regardless of class or birth, all will prophesy and receive visions and dream dreams. 

            It seems to me that if the Spirit is moving in and among and through us, and if the Spirit is leading the Church, then we are being led to dream.  So what are our dreams? 

            A church that recognizes that the Spirit is leading also recognizes that there is no dream too big, no vision too fantastic.  What are our dreams? 

            Are they dreams of a church that is revitalized and re-energized?  Why not?  Why shouldn't we be revitalized and re-energized?

            Do we dream that our church will once again grow?  Why not?  Why shouldn't our church grow? 

            Do we dream that our neighbors and our neighborhood will see our church as a place to come for hope and renewal and life?  Then let's dream that.

            If we are to be Easter people and Pentecost people, then I think we are to see ourselves as Spirit led.  I know that term makes some of us uncomfortable, because it brings to mind the image of people speaking in random, indecipherable tongues and being slain in some kind of spirit.  Being Spirit led may look like that, but I also think that a Spirit led church is one where dreamers and their dreams are welcomed and encouraged.  A Spirit led church is one that trusts that wherever the Spirit may be leading them, and whatever the Spirit may be leading them to do, they will be given the courage and the ability to follow.  A Spirit led church believes that ordinary people can do extraordinary things.  A Spirit led church knows that the changes effected by the Spirit are all part of the new thing that God is doing.  A Spirit led church not only hopes for a more peaceful, just world, but acts to make that world a reality.  A Spirit led church is one that knows that the incarnate love of God in Christ Jesus is the underpinning and the foundation of everything we do, everything we say, everything we are. 

            On this day of Pentecost, let us recommit ourselves to being a Spirit led church.  Let us trust and hope and be led by the powerful, personal, wondrous, fabulous Spirit.  Let all God's children say, "Alleluia!  Amen."

A Public Prayer

John 17:1-11

June 1, 2014

            When I announced my decision to go to seminary, the various people in my life responded in different ways.  Generally, people were happy for me and excited to see me discerning this call. Some were concerned, as it turned out unnecessarily so, about me getting through the Presbyterian language requirement.   Could I pass Hebrew and Greek?  A few were unsure about a woman going into ordained ministry, but they loved and supported me anyway.  However one response was true across the spectrum of reactions from my family and friends; the minute I decided to pursue a call to ministry, everyone else forgot how to pray. 

            My father, who I’ve heard offer beautiful, articulate prayers before meals at family gatherings, couldn’t wait to hand those reigns to me.  Suddenly, at every family gathering I was the designated pray-er.  My adopted family in Richmond summoned me to pray at every event and occasion.  I usually spent Thanksgiving at their house, but one year while I was still in school, I spent it with some seminary friends instead.  My second family was sad that I wouldn’t be with them, but they were even more concerned about who would say the prayer before the meal.  The “professional pray-er” wouldn’t be with them. 

            Peoples’ belief that I have a felicity for public prayer is flattering, but answering a call, going to seminary, becoming ordained does not mean that public prayer comes easily to me.  One of my first decisions when I became a solo pastor was that I would force myself to lead the prayers for the people portion of our worship service extemporaneously.  No script.  Up until that point, I’d written out at least an outline of my prayer, and then I’d fill in the blanks with any prayer request I received.  It was a scary decision to make, but I believed then, and still do, that it was a discipline that I needed to stick with.  I can honestly say that almost 19 years later, it hasn’t gotten any easier or less scary.  I can do it.  I can pray in public.  Sometimes I can even pray with some eloquence, but it does not come easily. 

            But I have learned that whether or not I make it through my public prayers with lilting prose or fumbling inadequacy, it doesn’t matter so much how I pray as to what I pray.  This is not a sermon about what prayer is or what prayer does, but it is about what prayer can convey.  Of course if we want an example of a prayer that is not eloquent, then we should not look to Jesus’ prayer for the disciples in today’s gospel passage. 

            Jesus’ prayer is eloquent.  And, typical of John’s gospel, it is metaphorical and bears layers of meaning.  The context and setting of the prayer is important to understand.  In scholarship terms, it’s called the “Priestly Prayer” or the “High Priestly Prayer.”  That’s eloquent terminology for an eloquent prayer.  But what is a priestly prayer?  It’s an intercessory prayer.  Jesus is praying on the disciples’ behalf.  He is praying for the disciples, not because they cannot pray for themselves.  They can.  But this is a prayer of protection, guidance, love.  What’s interesting to me is that Jesus is not off praying by himself somewhere.  That is where we often find Jesus praying.  He goes off alone, away from the disciples, away from the crowds, and prays.  But in this passage, the disciples are with him.  They hear every word.

            This prayer comes at the end of the last meal Jesus shares with them.  Soon he will be arrested, tried, convicted, crucified, resurrected.  As I’ve said in past weeks, it is odd to have a pre crucifixion passage on the last Sunday of Eastertide.  Not only is it the last Sunday for this resurrection season, this past Thursday was Ascension Day.  Next week, Pentecost.  Jesus should be up in heaven, not sitting at table with his disciples, praying. 

            Yet as we’ve also heard these last weeks, this is Jesus’ long goodbye to the disciples.  There is no ascension in John’s gospel.  We read about the Ascension in passages like the one we have from Acts.  But John is different.  In John Jesus makes several post resurrection appearances, gives Peter both a word of grace and forgiveness and instruction.  Makes one final comment about the Beloved Disciple, and that’s it.  End of the gospel. 

            From the story of Jesus’ ascension and certainly the story of Pentecost that we will read next week, the torch is now passed to us.  While we tend to think of the resurrection as the end of the gospel, it’s really just the beginning.  In light of that, it does seem fitting that on this Sunday, when we officially leave Easter, prepare for the coming of the Spirit and consider the Son’s ascent to the Father, that we read this public prayer of Jesus for his disciples. 

            So what does this prayer say?  Jesus speaks of being glorified; his glory and the Father’s glory.  I don’t think that the word glory as Jesus uses it is just about shining splendor.  In the story of the Transfiguration, the disciples do see Jesus literally shining, but they also get a glimpse of his true nature.  So when Jesus prays about his glory and God’s glory, I wonder if he’s speaking of the revelation of God and Son.  After all, his time in our midst was about doing just that:  revealing God, showing God, making the love of God physical, tactile, embodied, incarnate.  So in this hour of crucifixion and resurrection, that revelation of God, that glorification of God is reaching its fulfillment.  

            And in this glorification, Jesus also speaks about eternal life.  “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” 

            This is a different way of looking at eternal life, isn’t it?  Eternal life isn’t just the life in heaven.  It is more than just the life after this life.  It is found in knowing God and in knowing Jesus.  Eternal life comes about through relationship with God.  Eternal life, then, is now.  That doesn’t detract from our belief in Heaven, in the life we wait for after this one.  Jesus ascends into the heavens to be in Heaven with God.  Perhaps it is only when we reach that life after life that our relationship with God is complete and perfect.  But that doesn’t lessen this understanding we have from Jesus’ prayer that the foundation of eternal life begins now.  Just as the kingdom of God is already in our midst, so is eternal life. 

            Jesus prays for the relationship his disciples have and will have with God.  And Jesus prays for the relationship his disciples will have with one another. 

“Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” 

In other words, community.  Relationship with God, Father and Son, and community, communion with one another.  It seems to me that if our relationship with God is the basis for our eternal life, not only in some distant time, but right now; then the community we build with one another is our reflection of the kingdom, which is not just a far off place, but a realm and reality that is also with us right now.

So what would it mean for us to begin each day with the awareness that we have already begun our eternal life and inhabit the kingdom now?  What would it mean for us to open our eyes in the morning recognizing that not only are experiencing this reality but that we give a glimpse of this reality to others?  How would we see other people?  Speak to them?  Treat them? 

When Jesus prayed this prayer for the disciples, he knew that soon they would be without him.  With the ascension, Jesus is no longer physically on this earth.  The coming of the Holy Spirit will embolden them, embrace them and undergird them with the spiritual presence of Christ.  But the physical presence, as the disciples knew him, will be gone.  So Jesus prayed for them.  He prayed for their understanding.  He prayed for their protection.  He prayed for them to be in relationship with God as he was in relationship with God.  He prayed for them to be in community with one another, to be one as Father and Son were one. 

And I think that just as Jesus prayed for the disciples, he also prays for us.  In one of my favorite Assurances of Pardon found in our Book of Common Worship, we hear these words of grace, “Who is in a position to condemn?  Only Christ, and Christ died for us, Christ rose for us, Christ reigns in power for us, Christ prays for us.” 

            Christ prays for us.  What a word of hope that is.  What a word of good news.  Christ prays for us.  Just as Jesus prayed for the disciples, he prays for us.  I believe that his prayer for the disciples, that they would have understanding and relationship with God, that they would be protected and have community and communion with one another, is his prayer for us as well. 

            So what would it mean for us to begin each day, with the knowledge that in our relationship with God, we have found eternal life?  What would it mean for us to open our eyes with the understanding that in our community with one another, we reflect the kingdom of God to others?  What would it mean for us to not only know these truths, but to also believe to the depths of our being that Christ is praying for us?  How will we speak to others knowing that Christ is praying for us and for them?  How will we see others knowing that Christ holds us all in his prayers?  How will we treat others knowing that Christ prays for our protection, for our strength, for our lives, for our community, for our love for God and one another? 

            Christ prays for us.  In this we find strength to be Christ’s body in this hurting world.  Christ prays for us.  In this we find courage to be witnesses of the gospel.   Christ prays for us.  In this we find hope.  In this we find hope.  Let all God’s children say, “Alleluia!”  Amen.