Author: reverendjoannwhite

Easy and Light

/ reverendjoannwhite / 3 Comments

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Easy and Light” Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Three years ago, when I last preached on this scripture passage, we were in the middle of a global health crisis. COVID-19 had swept around the world and into New York state. Down in New York City, the scale of sickness and death was horrific. Even in the North Country, we felt the effects. Restaurants were closed and businesses were offering curbside service. We were working from home and meeting by Zoom. We worshipped online. A trip to the grocery store felt like a strange and dangerous safari. We lived in our masks and applied hand sanitizer at the slightest provocation. We were scared and we were stressed.

Three years later, it feels like we have turned the page on COVID. Thank, goodness! But surprisingly, although our pandemic worries have eased, we are still stressed. The most recent Harris Poll of the American Psychological Association found that 72% of Americans report that stress has a daily negative impact on their lives. We are feeling overwhelmed and worried. We are having trouble sleeping. We may be turning to alcohol, recreational drugs, or prescription sleep aids to find rest.

COVID may no longer top the list of our anxieties, but other concerns have risen to take its place.  76% of us are worried about the future of our nation. 62% of us believe that our children will not inherit a better world. That may be because 70% have drawn the conclusion that the government does not care about the interests of people like us. We are worried about inflation. 83% of us believe it is a significant problem. In the past month, more than half of us have had to make difficult household decisions about what we could or could not buy. We are also worried about violence. The epidemic of mass shootings and gun violence in this country is deeply troubling and stressful for 75% of us. And perhaps because most of us have concluded that the government doesn’t care, we feel powerless to create change. 34% of all adults report that their stress is completely overwhelming on most days, affecting our mental health, eating habits, physical health, and our relationships with others. How is your stress level these days?

Jesus and his friends knew all about stress. Israel had been an occupied nation for more than seventy years, with the soldiers of Rome stationed in fortresses and garrisons throughout the land, all the way from Jesus’ home base in Capernaum on the Sea of Galilee to the Antonia Fortress, right next door to the Temple in the heart of Jerusalem.  The cost of foreign occupation was borne by the people through exorbitant taxes.  All those taxes meant economic hardship.  While we have supports in our society to help neighbors in financial crisis, a first century family might have to resort to debt slavery, selling a family member into slavery to avoid financial catastrophe. 

Beyond occupation and economics, Jesus’ friends coped with a spiritual stress that might sound completely alien to us. From his first sermon in Nazareth, Jesus faced harsh criticism and opposition from the powerful religious forces of his day, the Pharisees, Sadducees, Chief Priests, and scribes.  Jesus’ opponents insisted that all 613 commandments of the Torah should be carefully observed. This included 365 negative commands that demanded that the people abstain from behaviors like eating unclean foods or associating with sinners and Gentiles. The Torah also included 248 positive commandments, things we must do, like offering first fruits of the harvest, circumcising male infants, and resting the land during the seventh year.  613 laws of the Torah. That’s a lot of dos and don’ts.

Jesus certainly knew his Torah, but he believed that this rigid interpretation of scripture had become a harsh burden for the people, a burden that defeated the Torah’s intent to bring people closer to God. Jesus argued that a single great commandment fulfilled the heart of the Torah: to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Jesus chose love over law and hoped his friends would, too. Yet Jesus’ critics took one look at his loving choice to break bread with sinners, touch lepers, heal on the Sabbath, and show mercy to tax collectors, prostitutes, and even Gentiles, and they saw only violations of the letter of the law. They labeled Jesus a sinner, drunkard, and glutton. They wanted him, and anyone who followed him, silenced.

I think we can imagine how good it sounded to Jesus’ stressed-out friends when he said to them, “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened and I will give you rest…. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light and you will find rest for your soul.”  We might not be familiar with yokes, but every first century farmer knew that a yoke was an essential tool in managing heavy loads.  A yoke is a wooden beam used between a pair of oxen, allowing them to pull together on a load when working as a team. 

A carpenter like Jesus would have made yokes regularly.  The best yokes were made from a single piece of wood that was light and strong.  Roughing out a yoke from a log in those days before bandsaws and power sanders would take a carpenter two days of steady, hard labor.  Yokes were custom made and fitted to animals to ensure that the load could be borne across shoulders, chest, and neck without causing friction or harm. An ox, when yoked with a mate in a well-fitted harness, could readily pull loads much too heavy to shoulder alone. 

Jesus’ metaphor of the easy yoke and the light burden would have reminded his friends that they were not alone as they contended with difficult experiences that stressed them out and made them feel powerless.  In Jesus of Nazareth, God had chosen to enter a world where foreign powers oppress, economic hardship was widespread, and the religious critics were sharpening their knives.  Jesus taught his friends that they could face life’s heavy burdens because they had help.  In Jesus, they had a yokemate who bore the burden with them and for them.  Jesus’ words did not change the difficulties that his friends faced.  But all those burdens could be shouldered, just knowing that Jesus, with the power of God Almighty, was right there in the yoke with them.

Perhaps this morning, we who are feeling burdened and stressed by an indifferent government, escalating inflation, and daily horrific reports of gun violence can find comfort in Jesus’ words, too. “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened and I will give you rest…. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light and you will find rest for your soul.” The Lord is with us when we are feeling burned out, stressed out, down and out. Jesus invites us to rest in him.

These days, I’m feeling the stress of being caught up in the healthcare system, an experience that many of us have shared. Biopsy results last month determined that I – the picture of health and wellness – have breast cancer. I’m fortunate that it looks like they have caught it early. With surgery and follow-up treatment I should make a full recovery. But it’s scary, feeling like I am at the mercy of health care providers who know nothing about me. It’s overwhelming to ponder the expense. It’s easy to allow my mind to probe the what ifs. What if things don’t go as hoped? Lately, this picture of health and wellness has been feeling more like a poster child for burden and stress. Praise the Lord that Jesus is in the yoke with me and I can count on him to bear the burden.

When a young ox is being trained to work with a yoke, the youngster is always teamed with an older, stronger, and more experienced yokemate. As they pull a heavy load, the younger ox may even lean into its partner, depending on their superior strength, firm footing, and experience. That’s me and Jesus these days. I’m leaning in.

I’ve got to tell you that sharing healthcare news like this isn’t something that I like to do. It’s a little like preaching naked (every pastor’s nightmare). It’s vulnerable and uncomfortable. It’s tempting to keep quiet and simply hope for the best. But I have gained a fresh perspective on today’s scripture reading as I have begun to share my news with others. When you are part of a Christian community like this, it isn’t just you and Jesus in the yoke. There are others who are willing to pull together, to be encouragement, strength, and support as we manage our stress and pull the heavy load. Thanks be to God. I know that you all will be pulling for me.

This week, it’s pretty much guaranteed that something is going to turn the dial way up on our stress. The latest news of climate change will prompt despair over the world we are leaving to our children. Those politicians in Washington will continue to play games at the expense of people like you and me. There will be more mass shootings, and all our thoughts, prayers, and protests won’t seem to outweigh the power of the gun lobby. I’ll have my surgery. The burden will feel heavy and our stress will be high. But we won’t be alone.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened,” Jesus says, “And I will give you rest…. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light and you will find rest for your soul.” May it be so.

Resources:

Sophie Bethune. “Stress in America 2022: Concern for the Future, Beset by Inflation” in the Journal of the American Psychological Association, October 2022. Accessed online at www.apa.org.

Dale Alison. “Commentary on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30” in Preaching This Week, July 6, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Stanley Saunders. “Commentary on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30” in Preaching This Week, July 6, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Colin Yuckman. “Commentary on Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30” in Preaching This Week, July 9, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

International Society for Cow Protection. “How to Make a Yoke” in Ox Power Handbook.  Accessed online at https://www.iscowp.org

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

16“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, 17‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ 18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; 19the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

25At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

A Celebration of National Hymns

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Celebration of National Hymns” Psalm 100, Gal. 5:13-17, 22-25

On this Independence Day weekend, we share the music and stories of some of our most beloved national hymns. These songs remind us of God’s goodness to us and our calling to be a nation grounded in the holy purpose to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.

We begin with “My Country “Tis of Thee,” perhaps the first patriotic hymn that many of us learned in grade school. In fact, it served as an unofficial national anthem for a century until the adoption of “The Star Spangled Banner” in 1931. “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” was written by the Rev. Samuel Francis Smith in 1831 for an Independence Day celebration at Boston’s Park Street Congregational Church.

Smith was a noted Baptist pastor, language professor, editor, and preacher. He was an enthusiast of world missions, serving the Baptist Missionary Union for more than fifteen years. His travels took him to visit missionary outposts in Europe, Turkey, India, Ceylon, and Burma. Smith never retired. At the age of 87, he died suddenly while on his way by train to preach in the Boston neighborhood of Readville. Let us sing “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.”

“We Gather Together” is perhaps the quintessential Thanksgiving hymn. While we may associate it with the memory of pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a harvest meal, the hymn’s origin is quite different. Written by Adrianus Valerius in 1597, the words celebrate the victory of the Dutch in a war of national liberation against the Catholic King Philip II of Spain.

At the Battle of Turnhout (in modern-day Belgium) allied English and Dutch forces launched a surprise attack that routed the Spanish. The enormity of their victory is revealed in the casualties. Of 4,000 Spanish infantrymen, more than 2,000 were killed or wounded. The allies suffered losses of twelve killed and fifty wounded.

We might anticipate that a hymn written in the wake of such a momentous national event would tout the Dutch and English victory. Instead, the song rejoices in the freedom to worship. Under Spanish rule, Protestants had been forbidden to meet together. Freedom from King Philip II brought religious liberty. Let us sing “We Gather Together.”

The words to “This Is My Song” were written as a poem by American poet Lloyd Stone when he was a student at the University of Southern California. Upon graduation, Stone joined the circus and traveled to Hawaii. When the circus left, Stone stayed, making Hawaii his adopted home. He served as a composer and pianist for Kulamanu Studios, taught school, and wrote and illustrated many books of poetry.

In 1934, Ira B. Wilson of the Lorenz Publishing Company set Stone’s words to the hymn-like portion of “Finlandia” by Jean Sibelius. This arrangement was first published under the title “A Song of Peace.” Released in the period between World Wars when tensions were again mounting in Europe, the song struck a national chord of longing for an end to nation lifting up sword against nation. 

In 1951, the Hawaii legislature passed a special resolution bestowing upon Stone the honor and title of poet laureate of Hawaii (Ka Haku-Mele O Hawaii). Let us sing “This Is My Song.”

African American author and civil rights activist James Weldon Johnson wrote the words to “Lift Every Voice and Sing” for a school assembly in 1990. Booker T. Washington was in attendance and spoke on the occasion of Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. The music was written by his younger brother, composer J. Rosamond Johnson.

James Weldon Johnson was the first African American admitted to the Florida Bar Exam since the Reconstruction era ended. He was also the first black in Duval County to seek admission to the state bar. In order to be accepted, Johnson had a two-hour oral examination before three attorneys and a judge. He later recalled that one of the examiners, not wanting to see a black man admitted, left the room.

Johnson became a leader of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), where he started working in 1917. Under his direction, the NAACP launched legal challenges to the Southern states’ disenfranchisement of African Americans by such legal devices as poll taxes, literacy tests, and white primaries. He also conducted a national campaign to raise public awareness about the widespread practice of lynching. “Lift Every Voice and Sing” became widely popular and has been called the “Negro National Anthem,” a title that the NAACP adopted and promoted. Let us sing “Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

Originally entitled “God of Our Fathers,” our next hymn features words written by Daniel Crane Roberts in 1876. At the time, the thirty-five-year-old Roberts was serving as the rector of St. Thomas & Grace Episcopal churches in Brandon, Vermont. Rev. Roberts wanted a new song for his church to sing to celebrate the American Centennial.

Later, in 1892, Roberts anonymously sent the hymn to the Episcopal General Convention for consideration by the commission formed to revise the Episcopal hymnal. If approved, he promised to send his name. The commission approved it, printing it anonymously in its report. Rev. Dr. Tucker, who was the editor of the Episcopal Hymnal, and George W. Warren, an organist at St. Thomas Church in New York City, were commissioned to choose a hymn for the celebration of the centennial of the United States Constitution in 1892. They chose this text and Warren wrote a new tune for it, “National Hymn,” including the glorious trumpet fanfare at the beginning of the hymn. Let us sing “God of the Ages, Whose Almighty Hand.”

The “Battle Hymn of the Republic” was written in 1861 by Julia Ward Howe, a leader in women’s rights and an ardent abolitionist. With America plunged into the depths of Civil War, Howe traveled to Washington and toured a nearby Army camp on the Potomac. She heard soldiers singing a tribute to John Brown, hanged in 1859 for leading an insurrection to free the slaves.

Inspired by what she had seen and heard, Howe returned for the evening to her lodging at the Willard Hotel. She woke in the early dawn with the words of this hymn fully formed in her thoughts. She hastily scrawled them on a scrap of paper and returned to sleep, sensing that something of importance had happened.

Howe’s poem was published in February of 1862. Set to music, Howe’s work became the battle hymn of the Union Army’s efforts to again unite the country and put an end to slavery. Let us sing “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory.”

Our final hymn “Eternal Father, Strong to Save” has been adopted as an anthem by the United States Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, and Space Force. It was written in 1860 by William Whiting, an Anglican churchman from Winchester, England. Whiting grew up near the ocean and at the age of thirty-five had felt his life spared by God when a violent storm nearly claimed the ship he was travelling on, instilling a belief in God’s command over the sea.

Years later, as headmaster of the Winchester College Choristers’ School, Whiting was approached by a student about to travel to the United States, who confided an overwhelming fear of the ocean voyage. Whiting shared his experiences of the sea and wrote this hymn to “anchor the faith” of his student. In writing it, Whiting was inspired by Jesus stilling the storm and Psalm 107, which describes the power of God to preserve us amid the fury of the sea. Let us sing “Eternal Father, Strong to Save.”

Psalm 100


1 Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth.
2 Serve the Lord with gladness;
come into his presence with singing.

3 Know that the Lord is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;[a]
we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.

4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise.
Give thanks to him; bless his name.

5 For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever
and his faithfulness to all generations.

Photo by Kevin McCartney on Pexels.com

Bad Feet, Good Lord!

/ reverendjoannwhite / 1 Comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Bad Feet, Good Lord!” John 13:1-5, 12-15

“Ouch!” Too late, I sidestep the bench and heel hobble to the foot of the bed. I hoist my leg up and look at my toe. A bloody, purple blush balloons around the base of the nailbed. When probed, the nail wobbles ominously, back forth, up down, like an unmoored dinghy bobbing in an eddy. Duane pushes the bench back into place. He does not want to look at my toe, but I make him.

“Check it out,” I say, wobble wobbling the nail.

Overcoming revulsion, he musters what passes for concerned interest, looking at the toe, the nail, the foot. He shakes his head.

I’ve got bad feet. Imagine that said with the mix of frustration and disappointment that a not-very-patient dog owner might use to say, “Bad dog,” to the new puppy who has, yet again, soiled the fake Persian carpet in the Pastor’s Study. Bad feet! Bad feet!

I blame it on Nana. My maternal great grandmother had feet that we christened “Nana’s Beauties.” Shaped by years of hairdressing in Brooklyn, Nana’s Beauties were a hideous amalgam of hammer toes, bunions, and thick calluses that came to an unnatural point, as if still poured into the fashionable kitten-heeled pumps, adorned with black velvet bows, that she wore in the 1920s. As a small child, I watched those feet with uncomfortable fear and fascination, as if the Beauties might, in any moment, become cognizant of my attention and demand to be touched, or even worse, rubbed. Avert thine eyes!

My Beauties might rival Nana’s. Bunions, bunion-ettes, seed corns, tendonitis, occasional plantar fasciitis, and a few curiously thickened nails that my podiatrist assures me are NOT fungal but symptomatic of feet that regularly take a beating on roadways and trails. Beyond the genetics of low arches and skinny heels, I earned my Beauties, not while flashing a sassy flapper smile and shaping the crimped waves and swingy bobs that Nana crafted at the Flatbush Beauty Emporium, but rather while logging miles, miles, and more miles of walks and hikes in the Adirondacks and beyond. And, of course, with the occasional catastrophically stubbed toe. The nail would blacken, work its way loose, and cast me off one morning to escape down the shower drain.  

There’s money to be made in foot beauty. [1]  Indeed, those with lovely feet can capitalize on them. Foot models, born with a perfect size six and ideal squoval nails can earn six figures by donning shoes or smearing on pharmaceuticals while the camera clicks. A pedicure, with toenails trimmed and filed, calluses softened, and polish artfully applied, can set you back $60.  And if you want your feet to be beautifully and fashionably clad, a pair of smoky blue, patent leather Jimmy Choo mules with a crystal strap will cost $1,095.

But we with Beauties learn early that ours is not the world of nail salons and high fashion footwear. It’s never a good feeling when your nail tech calls in a consultant to determine the best way to shave the callosity on your heels. We hide our thorny feet within thick athletic socks in the girl’s locker room.  We look for pool shoes that hide our deformity. In our youth, we don’t boogie barefoot on the frat house lawn. Later in life, we won’t parade our naked dogs in the health club sauna. Our feet have their own costs: a $45 co-pay at the podiatrist; $5,560 for a bunionectomy that may or may not help; $200 for your Hoka CarbonX3 runners. There are other costs, like the shame we feel at the snicker of fellow campers on the beach at Silver Bay.

Even the biblical authors seemed to think that feet were an appropriate metaphor for that which is illicit, embarrassing, or must be hidden away. When I translated the Book of Ruth from Hebrew to English, my professor Brenda Shaver, in her edgy shicksa-turned-rabbi perkiness, told me with a wink that when Ruth slipped into the granary to spend the night with Boaz, the Hebrew text may say that she uncovered his feet, but she was actually intent on uncovering something else, due north and much more likely to get the attention of the sleeping patriarch.  If Ruth had lifted the blanket and seen that Boaz’s feet rivaled Nana’s Beauties—or mine, there might never have been an Obed, Jesse, or David. Maybe no Jesus.

I bet Jesus had Beauties. The man walked a lot. He walked along the Via Maritima from the black basalt jetty at Capernaum up to the rabbit warren of bureaucratic offices at Caesarea Philippi. He walked from the radium-infused Roman baths of Tiberias down the increasingly arid Jordan Valley to the palm-treed oasis of Jericho. He climbed the red eroded hills of the Judean Wilderness and walked the dangerous, narrow path through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. He walked the Via Dolorosa. Jesus didn’t have the benefit of my Keen trail shoes or my real leather, European-made hiking boots. He did it in sandals, the first century kind, not much more than a slab of foot-shaped leather, held on with straps and ties. I bet Jesus had calluses, corns, nicks, scars, and soles made thick by walking. From time to time, he, too, may have been missing a toenail or two. I’m sure the feet of his disciples were no better, especially the fishermen, who spent half their time barefoot, wading in water or sitting in the slime left behind in the bottom of the boat by the dragnet. Jesus, my brother, of the bad, bad feet.

The synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) tell us that on the night of his arrest, Jesus shared a final Passover meal with his friends and instituted a tradition, a shared meal of bread and wine in remembrance of him. John remembers differently. According to John, in the last meal that Jesus shared with his disciples, he rose from the table, took off his outer robe, wrapped an apron around his waist, and knelt at his friends’ feet to do the work of the most menial servant in the household. Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, all of them, even those of Judas, who was already counting the silver coins that would soon grease his palm. I like to think that Jesus washed the feet of their wives and children, too.

One by one, Jesus cradled the disciples’ feet.  He held their hammer toes and bunionettes, their fallen arches, plantar warts, and ingrown toenails. He poured out water to wash away the grime accrued in a long day of walking on cobbles and unpaved paths in an arid land where dust lifts and swirls with every step. After the washing, he dried their feet, shrouding them in the towel, pressing, rubbing, squeezing, letting go.

John saw this foot washing, and not the Lord’s Supper, as the rite that Jesus used to call us into a community of people committed to his way. Jesus told the twelve, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” Faithful people have long heard in Jesus’ words the calling to a life of humble service, of falling to our knees in prayer and rising to bless others with simple acts of self-giving love. We help out at the Food Pantry or roll up our sleeves at the Community Garden. We clean apartments in public housing or fly off to Malawi to teach kids to read.

But what if Jesus wants more?

In holding those feet, in embracing that which society deems unworthy, unlovely, and unclean in us, Jesus sets another sort of example. It’s an example that we with Beauties can perhaps most fully appreciate. Jesus chooses to be lovingly present to that which we—and others—little love about ourselves. He does so patiently, insistently, relentlessly, without judgment, comment, or snark. It’s an act of inclusion and acceptance that humbles and heals.

It’s an act that also inspires, calling us to hold for one another all that we fear is ugly and unlovable: our misshapen feet and scaley psoriatic skin, our receding hairlines and jiggly bellies, our bad grades and lack of athleticism, our misspent youth and crabby age, our failed marriages and poor parenting, our fragile mental health and compulsive addictions. In truly following Jesus, we could find the humility to gently hold and simply care, to cherish and even love, that which others have learned to hate in themselves. We could choose to move past discomfort, judgment, and even revulsion to love. Are you with me?

The last Christmas that Nana came to our house, before she broke her hip and moved to the nursing home, was a snowy one. A big storm dumped two feet of snow, so heavy and wet that my grandparents couldn’t navigate our street with their big Buick. In those days before SUVs and cell phones, they parked at the top of the hill, a mile away, and everyone got out to walk, even Nana, who, true to form, had worn completely unsuitable shoes that were soaked by the time she reached our front door. When the doorbell rang, we welcomed everyone with hugs and great rejoicing, but it was my Grandmommie White, a retired nurse and Presbyterian Deaconess, who did the most fitting thing.

“Here, Betty,” she said to my Nana, taking her by the elbow and easing her into a chair.

Then she removed Nana’s soggy shoes and washed her beautiful feet. Amen.

—-

This message is part of a longer essay that I worked on this past week during my DMin residency for Pittsburgh Theological Seminary’s Creative Writing and Public Theology Program.

[1] The Egyptian foot, with the big toe longer than the others, is considered the most beautiful foot shape, followed by the Roman foot (big toe and next two toes of equal length). The least appealing foot shape is purported to be the Greek, with the second toe longer than the first. The only possible advantage of the Egyptian foot is that it is less likely to suffer from ingrown toenails.

John 13:1-5, 12-15

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 2 The devil had already decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from supper, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 12 After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had reclined again, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.

Photo by THIS IS ZUN on Pexels.com

Mercy, Not Sacrifice

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Mercy, Not Sacrifice” Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Timmy feels like an outsider. He’s at that awkward adolescent stage where his legs have gotten too long for the pants his Mom bought for him in the fall, but he still hasn’t outgrown his baby fat. When it comes to gym class, he’ll be picked last for a team. Timmy asked a girl to the school dance, but she said “no.” Lately, the popular boys in his class have been bullying him. They call him by a mean nickname. They ridicule the ankles that show beneath his too short pants, the thick glasses that he needs to read, and the pimples that are beginning to erupt on his chin. Timmy spends a lot of time at home in his room, reading or playing video games. He tells his parents that he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Sara hasn’t been to church since she was a teenager. Last year, she got married to her longtime girlfriend. It was a sweet ceremony, outside in a garden with vows they wrote themselves. A friend with one of those online ordinations that you can buy for $10 presided at the service. Sara loved church, but one day in Youth Group, as she was coming to terms with her sexual identity, the Youth Pastor told everyone that people who are gay or lesbian are an abomination. Sara didn’t really know what that word meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. Later, when she looked it up, it hurt her heart to think that people would actually believe that God hated her for the way that God had made her.

Martin and Adele feel like outsiders in their own family. It started with the 2016 Presidential election when family members split over the two candidates. What started as a minor squabble at the Thanksgiving dinner table over the election outcome has exploded into years of animosity. You should see the insulting and demeaning partisan emails and Facebook posts that have fanned the flames of conflict. Disagreement has escalated to division. Martin and Adele may love their family, but they find it hard to like them these days. Last year, they skipped Thanksgiving, and they don’t know if they’ll ever return to the family table.

Our reading from Matthew’s gospel serves as an extended example of how Jesus responded to first century distinctions between outsiders and insiders to God’s love. It all started when Jesus saw Matthew sitting at his roadside toll booth and invited the tax collector to become a disciple. The Pharisees were scandalized. Didn’t Jesus understand that Matthew was an outsider? He was an unclean collaborator, who had profited from the Roman occupation. Matthew wasn’t fit for decent society.  Didn’t Jesus understand that breaking bread with Matthew was risky business? After all, you know what they say, “Birds of a feather flock together.”

Then, there was that woman, the one with the bleeding down there. She had been unclean for longer than anyone could remember. Ten years? Twelve? A long time. Leviticus fifteen taught that a woman with a discharge of blood was impure. Anyone who came into contact with her was rendered unclean. She was an embarrassment to her family, shunned by the neighbors. Everyone in Capernaum knew to steer clear of her.

How about that little girl? She may have been the daughter of the synagogue leader, but dead is dead. The professional mourners were already wailing. In a world where six out of ten children didn’t grow to adulthood, this death was no rare tragedy, and she was a girl, after all, not a higher status boy. The Torah taught that anyone who touched a corpse was rendered unclean for seven days, a whole week of prayer and separation. There would be purification rites to undertake, too, on the third and seventh days. Jairus should have known better than to waste Jesus’ time. This little girl wasn’t worth the trouble.

Matthew, the woman, Jairus’s daughter. All were unclean outsiders in the eyes of first century Israel. Beyond any social stigma—and there was plenty of that—people like the Pharisees believed that Matthew, the woman, and Jairus’s daughter were separated from God. Matthew had willfully disregarded the Torah to consort with Gentiles. That woman must have been a terrible sinner for God to afflict her so shamefully for so long. And that little girl? Dead! Perhaps God would raise her on the Day of Judgment.

We all have times when we feel like outsiders. Like Timmy, we may have been rejected or bullied by siblings, classmates, or colleagues. Like Sara, we may have been told that God can’t and won’t love people like us. Like Martin and Adele, we may have fallen victim to the bitter divisions of partisan politics that cast those with differing opinions as mortal enemies.

The world is full of other neighbors who feel like outsiders. They live in poverty on the margins of the community. They cope with autism that makes it daunting and difficult to connect socially. They wrestle with mental illness that makes them want to go back to bed and pull the sheets over their head. They grapple with addictions that fill them with guilt and shame.  They feel like they don’t belong. They may even wonder why God doesn’t love them.

Jesus chose to reach outside, to move beyond the traditional limits of first century Judaism, to stretch the bounds of the Torah. When the Pharisees challenged him on the company he kept, he quoted for them the words of the Prophet Hosea, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” Jesus chose to practice mercy rather than become a prisoner of purity. Jesus came for tax collectors, hemorrhaging women, little girls, and all the others who had been made to feel like they lived life on the outside, looking in, unwelcome at the table of the righteous, unwelcome in the Temple of God.

Jesus’s ministry was a bold witness to God’s love and mercy for those who felt unwelcome and excluded. Of course, Matthew was called to serve as a disciple. Of course, that woman was healed and praised for her faith. Of course, Jesus took that little girl by the hand and tenderly restored her to her family.  Rather than sacrifice a sister or brother on the altar of holiness, Jesus chose mercy. Jesus knew that God’s love longs to welcome the outsider in.

There must have been great rejoicing that evening in Capernaum. Matthew threw the biggest dinner party ever. He broke out the best wine. He killed the fatted calf. He invited not only Jesus and all his former colleagues in the tax booth, but also all the Pharisees to feast at his sumptuous table.

That woman, who no longer had the issue of blood, sang praises to God. She was celebrated by her neighbors who had never really seen her before. They had only seen her disease. They realized how lonely she must have been all those years. They saw that just touching Jesus’ prayer shawl must have taken tremendous courage. Then, she went home to her family filled with rejoicing and together they wept tears of gratitude and joy.  

That funeral wake for Jairus’s daughter turned into a birthday party. The weeping turned into cries of jubilation. The sackcloth was traded for some festive party hats and Mardi Gras beads. A conga line danced through the streets of the village with Jairus, his wife, and daughter leading the way.

This morning, we who have been made to feel like outsiders join the party. We are loved in the midst of our gawky adolescence. We are loved whether we are LGBTQ – or even straight. We are loved regardless of our political sensibilities. Jesus wants to spend time with us, whether we are poor or rich, have autism or social anxiety, contend with mental illness or feel enslaved by our addiction. Jesus is for us, his mercy and love abound.

If we listen closely this morning, we who feel at home inside the church, inside the tradition, may even hear Jesus calling us to reach outside, to follow him in extending the boundless love and mercy of God to those who need it most. May it be so.

Resources:

Rolf Jacobson, “Followed by the Lord” in Dear Working Preacher, June 4, 2023. Accessed online at www.workingpreacher.org.

Cleophus LaRue. “Commentary on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26,” June 11, 2023. Accessed online at www.workingpreacher.org.

Greg Carey. “Commentary on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26,” June 8, 2008. Accessed online at www.workingpreacher.org.

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

9As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him. 10And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. 11When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 12But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”

18While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, “My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.” 19And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. 20Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, 21for she said to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.” 22Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And instantly the woman was made well. 23When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, 24he said, “Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. 25But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. 26And the report of this spread throughout that district.

Photo by Marina Shatskikh on Pexels.com

Painters

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Poem for a Tuesday — “Painters” by Muriel Rukeyser

In the cave with a long-ago flare
a woman stands, her arms up. Red twig, black twig, brown twig.
A wall of leaping darkness over her.
The men are out hunting in the early light
But here in this flicker, one or two men, painting
and a woman among them.
Great living animals grow on the stone walls,
their pelts, their eyes, their sex, their hearts,
and the cave-painters touch them with life, red, brown, black,
a woman among them, painting.
From The Collected Poems of Muriel Rukeyser, Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005

The work of poet, journalist, and political activist Muriel Rukeyser often spoke of the violence and injustice that she saw in the world around her: the Scottsboro trial in Alabama, the Gauley Bridge tragedy in West Virginia, and the Spanish Civil War. She was a passionate and eloquent observer and commentator on matters of human rights, including gender, class, and racial inequalities. Her first collection of poems Theory of Flight was awarded the Yale Series of Younger Poets competition in 1935. She was further awarded the first Harriet Monroe Poetry Award, the Levinson Prize, the Copernicus Prize, and a 1966 Guggenheim Fellowship. Her poem “To be a Jew in the Twentieth Century,” on the theme of Judaism as a gift, was adopted by the American Reform and Reconstructionist movements for their prayer books.

Photo by toshihiko tanaka on Pexels.com

A Heart for the Welsh

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Heart for the Welsh” Matt. 28:16-20

It wasn’t the welcome that he expected. Gybi and his friends had left behind their native Cornwall and sailed across the Bristol Channel to the southwest of Wales.  They landed near a broad and pleasant meadow, lush with grass and flowers. It looked like a promising place to begin. The monks pitched their tent and began to pray, trusting that God would provide the vision for their mission.

When the local king Edelig heard that Christian monks were camped in his field, he was enraged. “To arms!” he cried, gathering his guard and riding out to slaughter the hapless monks and end their nonsense.  But as the king galloped into the meadow, his horse faltered, falling to the ground and dying. Then, the world went black.  King Edelig and his men were struck blind. Like newborn puppies, they wriggled and groped in the meadow’s long grass.

Realizing that he had picked a fight with the wrong God, King Edelig pleaded for mercy, promising Gybi anything he might ask, if only his sight would be restored. The wily Gybi saw a bargain to be made. If King Edelig would love the Lord Jesus and share just enough land to start a few small churches, Gybi and his friends would pray for healing. The deal was struck, and fervent prayers were offered. First the king and then all his men regained their sight. For good measure, Gybi raised the king’s horse from death to life. The king, who had begun the day with a heart set on murder, ended the day with a heart turned to Jesus.

Faithful people have been going forth in pursuit of the Great Commission ever since Jesus told his disciples to “go therefore into the world to make disciples of all nations.” From the summit of Mt. Tabor, where the disciples stood, 2,000 feet above the Galilean hills, they could see from snow-capped Mt. Hermon to the oases of the Trans-Jordan wilderness, from the blue-green waters of the Mediterranean to the desert sands of the Arabian Peninsula.  With the world stretched out at their feet, the disciples surveyed their mission field—and it was vast. 

These new marching orders from the risen Lord expanded their purpose.  Earlier, when Jesus had commissioned the disciples, he sent them to local villages with good news and healing for the “lost sheep” of Israel (MT 10).  The disciples were sent to those who knew God but feared that they were beyond the reach of God’s love. Sin or sickness, poverty or persecution had made them outsiders, unloved by their pious neighbors and unwelcome in the Temple.  The disciples had risen to the challenge of finding the lost, but now they had a whole world to evangelize.  It’s hard to believe, but by the fourth century, the gospel spread from eleven worried disciples on the summit of Mt. Tabor to the heart of the empire and the halls of power, becoming an official religion of Rome in the year 313. 

As Caesar’s armies marched forth to subdue the world, the gospel went with them. When Gybi was born to the king of Cornwall on the frontier of Britannia in the year 483, he was not the first of his family to be Christian. Destined to one day rule Cornwall, Gybi set out as a young man on pilgrimage to Judea and Jerusalem, where he longed to worship at Christ’s tomb—the holy sepulcher.  When he reached the Holy Land, Gybi was shocked by what he found. Instead of a community of humble disciples sharing the gospel with all nations, the Byzantine church was like an occupying army, great with wealth, hubris, and contempt for the local people. Dismayed by what he witnessed, Gybi sought out the Jewish Christians who persisted in the traditions passed from Jesus to his followers. Gybi met descendants of Jesus’s brothers, James and Jude. In Gybi, they saw humility and a heart for the Lord, and they anointed him with a Great Commission, to take the true gospel wherever the Spirit might send him.

Admonished by an angel of the Lord to return home, Gybi departed for Cornwall, where he renounced the throne and instead planted churches and honed gifts for healing.  One day, the Lord spoke to Gybi a second time, instructing him to sail north with twelve friends to the quarrelsome people of Wales. That’s where this sermon began, with the less than warm welcome of King Edelig.  Gybi and his friends built a small chapel near a deep spring of fresh water. All it took was the rumor of Gybi’s miraculous healing of the King and his men for the people to come. Tradition tells us that Gybi’s miracles rivaled those of the first disciples. He restored sight to the blind, cleansed the leprous, healed the paralytic, loosened the tongues of the dumb, and cast out evil spirits, all by virtue of the HS. To this day, the Welsh seek the water of Gybi’s Well, which is said to heal eye disease, lameness, warts, scrofula, and rheumatism.

With the warlike King Edelig pacified, gifts of healing abounding, and a burgeoning church growing across the southwest of Wales, it seemed that Gybi had fulfilled his great commission, but one day, the angel of the Lord spoke a third time, instructing Gybi to go to the wild and mountainous Kingdom of Gwynedd.  Gybi with his twelve friends sailed north across Cardigan Bay and along St. George’s Channel to the windswept, wave battered shores of Anglesey. There, too, a less than warm welcome waited. No sooner had Gybi pitched his tent than a wild goat bounded in and knelt at his feet in search of sanctuary. In hot pursuit were the hounds of King Maelgwn, soon followed by the King. “Give me that goat!” The king demanded.

The blessed Gybi sensed there was another deal to be made. “I’ll release my goat,” Gybi said, “If you will grant to me all the land that she runs through while your dogs are in pursuit.” The king, eager to be rid of the troublesome goat, agreed.  Off she bounded, with the dogs at her heels, yet no matter how bold their pursuit, the hounds could not gain ground. From one end of the kingdom to the other she scampered until finally returning to Gybi and again taking refuge behind the holy man. 

Seeing that this was no ordinary goat, nor an ordinary man, the king fell to his knees. He pledged to Gybi the old Roman Fort at Holyhead, abandoned 130 years earlier when the Romans turned their back on Britain.  There Gybi established a church and monastic settlement in the old Celtic tradition where families gathered, the hungry were fed, the sick were cared for, and the Lord was worshipped with heart and hand.

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” The Rev. Dr. David Lose, past President of the Lutheran School of Theology in Philadelphia, says that Jesus’ “Great Commission,” is terrifying for most folks in the pews.  We aren’t evangelists. We can’t preach like Peter. We can’t pray like Paul. When it comes to public speaking, most of us would rather not. But I suspect that the charge that the risen Lord gave to his disciples isn’t always fulfilled in sensational ways. Sometimes, the most powerful purveyors of God’s love are people like Gybi, people like us. They choose humility over pomp and glory. They have a heart for caring and healing. When times get tough, they pray fervently and trust that God has a plan, even when they do not.

The blessed Gybi died in the year 555 at the age of eighty-four, surrounded by the followers and friends who called Holyhead their home.  They say that as he breathed his last, the angels of the Lord came and took Gybi’s spirit to heaven. The church and monastery that Gybi founded remained the center for Christianity in northern Wales for more than 1,000 years until plundered by the forces of Henry VIII in the 16th century. Today St. Gybi’s Church, still nestled within the walls of the old Roman fort at Holyhead, is a vital working church with regular worship services in English and Welsh, as well as weddings, funerals, baptisms, blessings, and outreach to the community.

Resources:

David Nash Ford. “St. Cybi Felyn, Abbot of Caer-Gybi” in Early British Kingdoms. Accessed online.

Celtic Literature Collective. Vita Sancti Kebii (The Life of St. Cybi).

The Friends of St. Gybi. The Story of St. Cybi. Accessed online.

–. “The Age of Saints.” Accessed online at thehistoryofwales.typepad.com.

Matthew 28:16-20

16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Llywelyn2000, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

St Cybi window. St Beuno’s Church, Penmorfa, Gwynedd, Wales

Alone at Night

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Poem for a Tuesday — “Alone at Night” by Kwon P’il

The way of the world as it is,

What can I do about the fleeting time?

As a few chrysanthemums shiver in the late autumn,

Cricket chirps grow louder as the night deepens.

The sad moon throws its beams on the windowpanes;

And the wind shakes the rustling branches.

Recalling what has happened over the last ten years,

I sit before a lamp, counting the moths flying into it.

translated from the Chinese by Sung-Il Lee

in The Gift of Tongues (Port Townsend: Copper Canyon Press), 1996, page 168.

Kwon P’il (1569-1612) was a classical Korean poet of the early Chosun Dynasty (1392-1910). Although Korea has had its own language for several thousand years, it has had a writing system only since the mid-15th century when Hangul was invented. As a result, early Korean literary activity was in Chinese characters and was heavily influenced by Chinese intellectual thought. Kwon P’il was among the first poets to work in both Chinese and the newly developed Hangul. His poetry reflects an attempt to cultivate an authentically Korean voice and shake off the traditional social norms and standards of Chinese literature.

Photo by Erika Quirino on Pexels.com

Many Gifts

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Many Gifts” 1 Cor. 12:4-13

“Doesn’t it sound just like angel voices?” Selena shouted above the sound of the praise band. The opening song had been going on for about fifteen minutes when I noticed that the language emerging from the mouths of those who worshipped around me bore little resemblance to the lyrics projected on the screen at the front of the church. I wasn’t sure that “angel voices” would be my first choice to describe what I was hearing. A few minutes later, a woman a couple of rows in front of me slumped to the floor in an ecstasy of joy and was gently carted away by the ushers. No one seemed concerned, so I just kept singing. When the music finally faded amid cries of “Thank you, Jesus” and “Alleluia,” I sat down, questioning my choice to worship with my Pentecostal friend.

I don’t remember a word of the sermon preached that morning, but I do remember the Prayers of the People. Pastor Mike, who did double duty as preacher and bass player in the worship band, cast an appraising eye over the congregation and asked if anyone needed prayer. I instinctively avoided all eye contact and tried to make myself as small as possible, but a moment later I sensed someone looming over me. “Sister, the Lord wants us to pray for you.” How do you say “no” to that? Pastor Mike and Selena shepherded me to the front of the storefront church where I was quickly surrounded by a bevy of prayer partners who laid their hands on me and began to speak in other languages. My silent prayers began with something like, “Lord, let this be over soon.”

I can’t say how long they prayed for me, but at some point, I began to feel less anxious and maybe even a little happy. In fact, it was as if a little fountain of joy began to bubble inside me, a giddiness that welled up with giggles and perhaps a few tears. With their work done, my prayer partners moved on to their next victim while I hurried back to my folding chair. All that joy should have come with a warning label, “Do not operate heavy machinery while under the influence” because I got hopelessly lost on the way home, driving the streets of the city with a smile on my face and not a care in the world.

Paul’s church in Corinth was experiencing a surge of Pentecostal gifts. The Holy Spirit, first poured out upon the disciples at Pentecost, was at work among the Corinthians. Indeed, behind the words of today’s epistle reading was a dispute about spiritual gifts.  Some worshipers had been exhibiting gifts for ecstatic language and prophetic utterance that they believed entitled them to a special place of privilege in the congregation.  The division over spiritual gifts must have been significant, because Chloe’s people had written Paul a letter about it and sent a delegation to Paul in Ephesus, hoping that he would resolve their dispute and heal their divide. 

Paul responded to the crisis in his Corinthian flock by affirming the work of the Holy Spirit there.  He named the spiritual gifts that he had seen in abundance: wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discernment, ecstatic language, and the interpretation of those ecstatic prayers.  Paul acknowledged that the Spirit of Jesus was still at work in the faithful people of Corinth in many gifts, all necessary, all valuable for the health of the church, the body of Christ.

Paul wrote that the Holy Spirit is at work in all people, activating gifts in each of us.  There is no room for hierarchy or privilege in the Spirit’s work. The Greek word for gifts, charismata, is derived from charis, which means grace.  So, spiritual gifts are a way that God’s grace continues to reach out to the world.  God’s grace abounds when faithful people bless their neighbors with their God-given abilities. Paul also wrote that, although our Spiritual gifts are individually given, they are meant to be beneficial to all, to serve the “common good.”  When that happens, a remarkable community is forged.  It’s a place where every manmade divide is overcome.  All those false and artificial dichotomies of male/female, slave/free, Jew/Gentile, rich/poor, Pentecostal/Presbyterian, legal/illegal, black/white are transcended.  I like to think that Paul’s inspired epistle bridged the Corinthian divides and healed the church.

We can affirm that the Spirit is still at work in the church today. In teaching young people about the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I have a favorite exercise that I like to share. I give each youth a piece of 8 ½’ x 11” paper and ask them to write their names in the middle.  Next, we place our papers on a couple of long tables, and I parcel out big, bright magic markers.  Then, I invite the kids to write on one another’s papers the spiritual gifts that they notice in one another. At first, we stand around, looking uncomfortable.  But then someone will feel brave enough to record a spiritual gift, like kindness.  Soon someone else follows suit, writing things like great sense of humor or hard working or super smart.  Before we know it, we are rushing around the tables in a beautiful tumble of noticing and naming, eager to share what we see is special and God-given about our friends. Afterwards, as we collect our papers, we read what everyone had to say and we feel affirmed, sensing that God is at work in us in ways that are a blessing to all. 

Jesus continues to send the Spirit to equip us for his purpose.  It might alarm us to imagine the Spirit resting like tongues of fire among us, inspiring us to sing in angel voices, or causing us to swoon in a spiritual ecstasy, or propelling us to the front of the sanctuary for the laying on of hands.  But the whole point of Pentecost is that each of us is uniquely gifted, not for our personal glory but for the common good.  When we embody the gifts of the Spirit, we become Jesus for the world around us and his ministry continues to unfold in ways that bring healing, blessing, and miracles of new life.  It takes all of us, committed to using our gifts to the best of our ability, to truly embody the fullness of Christ for our neighbors.

In his letters to Rome and Ephesus, Paul would expand his catalog of the gifts of the Spirit to include ministry, teaching, preaching, generosity, leadership, compassion, evangelism, pastoring, and training.  For this congregation, we might have to expand Paul’s lists of spiritual gifts further to include some of the special qualities that we have here in abundance, abilities that are a blessing to all like music, helping, service, prayer, gardening, creativity, good cooking, handiness, financial oversight, and warm hospitality.  What are the particular gifts that the Spirit has given to you, gifts that Jesus would have you use to bless your neighbors? Write those on your heart and resolve to go forth and look for ways to share those gifts.

And perhaps this morning we could learn a lesson from our youth.  We could dare to affirm the spiritual gifts of one another.  Take a look at your neighbors in the pews this morning.  What are their gifts?  How have they been a blessing?  Take a moment to notice and to silently name.  I won’t be handing out sheets of paper and bright markers to record those gifts, but later today or this week, let those people know the gifts you perceive.  Perhaps you will visit with them in Coffee Hour, or pick up the phone and give them a call, dash off a text message or send them a note.  Let’s be sure to do that.

At the start of this message, I was last sighted driving the streets of Medford, Oregon with a smile on my face and not a care in the world. My joy hangover faded as the week wore on. The following Saturday evening, when Selena called, eager to take me back to her storefront Pentecostal church, I declined the invitation. I had a fresh understanding of the power and diversity of the Holy Spirit’s work, but I was hopelessly Presbyterian. No amount of angel voices or the laying on of hands could change that. Come Sunday morning, it sure felt good to settle back into my usual pew and to appreciate the prolific, if more subtle, gifts of the Spirit that abounded among my Presbyterian friends and blessed us all. Amen.

Resources:

Brian Peterson. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, May 11, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, June 4, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

1 Cor. 12:4-13

4 Now there are varieties of gifts but the same Spirit, 5 and there are varieties of services but the same Lord, 6 and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. 7 To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. 8 To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, 9 to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, 10 to another the working of powerful deeds, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. 11 All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. 12 For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. 13 For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

I Am a Firefly

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Poem for a Tuesday — “I Am a Firefly” by Masao Handa

I am a firefly

with a tiny lantern lighted.

In search of my other self,

In the darkness of night

I fly. Tired I bathe myself

In the falling dew.

The night speaks to me,

But alas! I do not understand;

Through the vastness of obscurity

I fly, in search of my other self.

I am a firefly

With a tiny lantern lighted.

— In Quiet Fire: A Historical Anthology of Asian American Poetry 1892-1970. New York: The Asian-American Writers’ Fund, 1996.

Photo by Dinesh Kumar on Pexels.com

Farewell Blessing

/ reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Farewell Blessing” Luke 24:44-53

The language of blessing is deeply ingrained in our culture. Even children who have never attended Sunday School learn from an early age that when someone sneezes, they should respond with a simple “Bless you.” In the Middle Ages, that blessing may have been shared to ward off the bubonic plague, but nowadays, those words have passed into the repertoire of polite things to say in company.

We may use the phrase “You have been blessed” as an acknowledgment of the good things in someone’s life, from good health to the birth of a grandchild. We raise a fiftieth anniversary glass to the celebration of a long and happy marriage with the words, “You have been blessed!” And in the world of professional basketball, whether the Celtics, Heat, Lakers or Nuggets win the championship, we’ll hear athletes rejoicing with the words, “We have been blessed.”

I have also noticed that we use the language of blessing when someone makes a well-intended effort that falls short. The late Dot Shene was visually impaired, but she never let that slow her down in the kitchen. One Christmas, she gave me a loaf of her famous (or should that be infamous) cheese bread. As Dot handed me the loaf, the late Norma Neese stood behind her, giving me a look that said, “Don’t eat it!” Sure enough, the well-intended loaf was a curious mix of gooey under-baking, caustic lumps of baking soda, and wads of cheese. Bless Dot’s little heart!

There was a lot of blessing going on in our reading from Luke’s gospel. First, the risen Lord revealed to his disciples how his ministry, death, and resurrection were anticipated in the Hebrew scriptures. Then, they journeyed outside Jerusalem and over the Mt. of Olives to Bethany. There Jesus took his leave, promising that, although he was returning to the Father, he would soon send a holy helper to be with them always.  As Jesus ascended, he blessed his disciples. They responded by blessing God, praising and worshipping Jesus and God Almighty, right there in Bethany and in the coming days in the Jerusalem Temple.

The biblical understanding of blessing has nothing to do with sneezing, professional basketball, or good intentions. On the contrary, the Hebrew word for blessing—barak—is all about relationship. Blessing is a statement of favorable relationship between two parties. It could be two people, two nations, God and an individual (like Abraham), or God and a chosen people (like Israel). Blesing, barak, is found in the goodness and benefit that prospers when two parties come together with mutual concern and regard.

All blessing begins with God, who has chosen to be in relationship. God, who is sovereign and all-powerful, didn’t need to create the world, but God did. Genesis 1 wraps language around God’s choice for relationship. God spoke words that forged the earth and its creatures, from fish to birds to wild animals to humankind. After each act of creation, God proclaimed God’s work to be good—and then God blessed it.  All creation was forged to be in relationship with the Creator.

In Genesis 12, God called Abraham and Sarah to leave their home in Haran and travel to a new land. God promised to bless them, to travel with them and be in relationship with them. God said, “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. . . in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” This is the pattern that God established in Genesis. God blesses us and sends us forth to bless others – to be in good, loving, mutual, beneficial relationship with the neighbors we meet on life’s journey.

Jesus’ parting blessing in our reading from Luke’s gospel was a reminder of the disciples’ relationship with God through him, yet it also brought to mind that charge to Abraham and Sarah—to be the blessing of others. Jesus didn’t call his followers to a Promised Land where only the children of Abraham would be welcomed and blessed. Rather, Jesus sent his followers from Jerusalem out to “all nations.” Blessing would be found in loving God and in loving neighbor. That’s the great commandment, and it is all about blessing. The Book of Acts reveals that many, who were once considered outsiders to God’s love, were blessed as the disciples went forth to “all nations.” Samaritans, Ethiopians, Romans, Syrians, Greeks, all would be welcomed, accepted, helped, healed, and fed.

This church takes seriously the calling to be a blessing to others, even as we are blessed by God’s love for us. One of the most gratifying ways that I have seen that blessing unfold in my time in Saranac Lake has been in our deepening relationship with the Food Pantry. We began with the pack basket at the side entrance and the invitation to donate canned- and dry goods. We expanded with the 2-cents-a-meal offering and the annual Souper Bowl Sunday that the kids lead. We have seen an increasing number of church members share their time and love at the Food Pantry, whether they are putting together food boxes on Saturday mornings, responding to emergency calls for food, or serving on the Board of Directors. Then, we got the bright idea to supplement the food that the pantry offers its patrons by providing fresh vegetables, and so our Jubilee Garden was born.  Finally, when it was time to renovate the basement, we saw the unique opportunity to provide the Food Pantry with a new and improved permanent home in the heart of the village. Yesterday, as I visited with Anne Cooney at the pantry, she assured me that in the new location downstairs, the number of people who are coming to the pantry has doubled. Now, that is a blessing!

Jesus knew, as he sent his disciples forth to bless the world, that they themselves would be blessed. When the disciples reached out and shared God’s love, there would be goodness and joy for them, too.  Strangers would become friends. Outsiders would be welcomed in. Church families would provide the nurture and support that were needed in times of rejection and persecution. There would be shared meals, helping hands, and plenty of laughter. Those blessed by their love of God would be a blessing to others and somehow find themselves feeling blessed more than they thought possible.  

One of my seminary professors Claude-Marie called this phenomenon “Mission in Reverse.” As a young adult, Claude-Marie traveled from her native France to South Africa, where she served as a missionary in Lesotho and Soweto at the height of Apartheid. It was a daunting mission for the young French woman, but she found joy in meeting families, teaching children, and learning a strange new language that included clicks and pops. Her advocacy for her black parishioners led to her eventual arrest and torture by the powerful and secretive South African Bureau of State Security, yet even so decades later, Claude-Marie still rejoices in remembering the goodness of those relationships with the Sotho and Zulu people.

We have experienced this “mission in reverse,” finding blessing and delight as we reach out and bless others. Those among us who volunteer at the food pantry or grow vegetables at the garden can testify about that. In fact, I’d like to invite us to a little celebration of the blessings. I’ll share some of the ways that we have felt blessed in our ministry, and we’ll all respond with the words, “We are blessed.”

Our relationships with fellow volunteers have deepened, and we have found new appreciation for one another’s gifts. We are blessed!

We have made new friends on Saturday mornings among our neighbors in need, rejoicing together in the little victories and sorrowing together through times of hardship. We are blessed!

We have known the sweetness of working the earth. We are blessed!

We have celebrated the advent of earth worms and the texture of soil that is just right for planting—moist and cohesive, a little like good chocolate cake. We are blessed!

At the garden, we have gotten to know people of all ages, many of whom have never set foot in a church, and perhaps never will. We are blessed!

We have marveled at fiery radishes, prolific zucchini, an abundance of beans, and the treasure of Adirondack tomatoes.  We are blessed!

Best of all, we have felt that we are living into God’s purpose, that the blessing we have found in God’s love for us shines through to the world around us. We are blessed!

On this Ascension Sunday, we are indeed blessed, my friends. Let us go forth to live as a blessing to others.

Resources:

Kent Harold Richards. “Bless/Blessing” in The Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 1, New York: Doubleday, 1992. Pages 753-755.

Greg Carey. “Commentary on Luke 24:44-53” in Preaching This Week, May 18, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Jennifer Kaalund, “Commentary on Luke 24:44-53” in Preaching This Week, May 21, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Troy Troftgruben. “Commentary on Luke 24:44-53” in Preaching This Week, May 14, 2015. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Luke 24:44-53

44 Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, 46 and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day 47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48 You are witnesses of these things. 49 And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” 50 Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. 51 While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. 52 And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, 53 and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

Photo by Binyamin Mellish on Pexels.com