“When everyone’s super…”

Christ the King Sunday

November 22, 2015

2 Samuel 23:1-7; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

Or watch it here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2P4d5Yeu64&feature=em-upload_owner 

            There’s a phenomenon among young families right now, you may have noticed it, where it’s popular to call little girls “princesses.”  And it’s not just limited to girls, I’ve heard parents of little boys call their sons “princes.”  I don’t know if Disney started this trend, or if they’re just capitalizing on it, but the popularity of Disney princesses has also skyrocketed.  Now, if we take this analogy a little further, and every child is a princess or a prince, then, on the one hand, it makes it a little less special.  Actual royalty is pretty rare; very few people are born into or marry into royal families.  There are very, very, very few princesses and princes in the world.  So, while the nickname is intended to convey how special we think our children are, to quote a Disney movie with no princesses, “when everyone’s super… no one will be.”[1] 

In the movie, “The Incredibles,” the bad guy, named Syndrome, makes inventions so that everyone can be a superhero, not just those born with special powers.  He wants to make it a little less special to be a superhero.  If every child is a prince or princess, if every child is special, then it kinda weakens the meaning of the word special. 

            The other conclusion we can draw from making our children into princesses and princes is that it means we are kings and queens.  We may feel like the servants or maids of our princesses and princes, but in reality, if we’re their parents, then we’re royalty as well.  And we’re not fellow princes and princesses, we’re kings and queens.  I think this speaks quite appropriately to the human condition, which is that we don’t want to be subjects, we want to rule!  Today, the last Sunday of the church year, is Christ the King Sunday, also called Reign of Christ Sunday, and it reminds us that we are not, actually, sovereign and in charge of our lives; Jesus Christ is.  He is the true King, and we are not.  In the history of the world, the vast majority of the people are subjects to the ruler and not the ruler themselves.  We want to be in charge, we want to be in control, we want to determine when things are going to happen and be the king or queen of our life.  However, today serves to remind us that we are not kings and queens.  We do not rule.  Rather we are those who are ruled.  And the good news is that we’re not ruled by an iron-fisted, heavy-handed dictator!  We’re ruled by Jesus.  He is our king, and he’s a good king.  He is slow to anger and quick to forgive.  He loves justice and mercy.  He loves his subjects, he loves us.  God loves us so much, that he sent his Son, whose birth we’ll celebrate in a few weeks.  He sent his Son to walk and live among us, to be here in person among his people.  God isn’t a distant ruler who’s hard to approach or hard to get an audience with.  He’s right here with us.  That’s how he rules us, by being right here among us, present with us.  We are not the King or Queen of our own lives; Jesus is, and we are his people.

            Now, what we read in 2 Samuel was a speech King David made at the end of his life.  The end of it is interesting because he talks about people who refuse to be ruled.  It says, “Despicable people are like thorns, all of them good for nothing, because they can’t be carried by hand.  No one can touch them, except with iron bar or the shaft of a spear.”[2]  These are people who won’t be ruled, can’t be ruled, unless you violently subject them with a weapon.  They are described in Scripture as wicked people, godless people, sons and daughters of rebellion, the devil’s henchmen.[3]  Beloved, don’t be these people.  While despicable has gained some positive associations with it, because of Daffy Duck with all the slobber when he says the word and the movie, “Despicable Me,” with Gru, who turns out to be quite likable for a super-villain; despicable really means “deserving to be despised; regarded with distaste, disgust, or disdain; contemptible.”[4]  Despicable people won’t be ruled, by anyone, other than themselves.  Despicable people are godless, because they won’t even follow God. 

We, however, are among those who follow Jesus.  We are among those who will submit to his kingship and rule.  We are among those who recognize that while we may not want to be subjects, that is the appropriate place for us. [5]  We submit to God’s will.  We know that whatever God has planned for us is better than the best that we can imagine on our own.  We know we can rest in safety, when we rest in God’s hands.  When Jesus is King, then we are not responsible for our own security.  God is, and he’s got it covered, as this phenomenal king.  We’re told in the book of Revelation that Jesus is the ruler of the kings of the earth.[6]  He is the King of kings, and Lord of lords.  He is “the firstborn of all creation,”[7] “who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, who made us to be a kingdom.”[8]  Isn’t that interesting?  Jesus made us to be a kingdom, his kingdom.  He created us, each and every one of us, to be a member of his kingdom.  Not to be King or Queen of his kingdom, it’s kinda of like too many cooks in the kitchen.  If everyone has their own idea of what should and should not be included in the recipe, and everyone’s fiddling with the pot, it inevitably won’t turn out well.  There’s only one King, and it’s Jesus, and he made each of us and invited each of us to be part of his kingdom.  So don’t be like those despicable, godless people who say in their hearts ‘there is no God.”[9]  Don’t be those people who won’t be ruled unless forced to it by a weapon.  You’ll be sorely disappointed then, because that’s not how Jesus works.  The only violence you will find in Jesus’ kingdom is the violence of love.  To quote Archbishop Oscar Romero, it is “the violence of love, which left Christ nailed to a cross, the violence that we must each do to ourselves to overcome our selfishness and… inequalities among us.  The violence we preach is not the violence of the sword, the violence of hatred.  It is the violence of love, of brotherhood, the violence that wills to beat weapons into sickles for work.”[10]  That’s the only violence you will find in Jesus’ kingdom, not violence to make you subject to him, simply the violence of love, that left Jesus on the cross for your sins and mine. 

            This is the Jesus we’re ruled by, this is King Jesus.  He is King, and we are not.  Whew!  You can breathe a sigh of relief now.  [Smile.]  Our children may, or may not be, princesses and princes, but you are not King, you are not Queen.  There is a God, and he is in charge.  You don’t have to plan all the little details, you don’t have to worry about everything and make contingency plans.  You can let things be, you can put down the whole world you’ve been carrying on your shoulders.  Jesus the King says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and who carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”[11]  Sometimes this is physical rest, sometimes it’s mental rest or emotional rest.  Whatever burden you’re carrying, if the holiday season is already overwhelming you, if you’re dreading upcoming family dinners, or dinners without family members who *should* be there, we have the King of love.  And he says, come put down what you’re carrying.  You don’t need to worry about that right now.  Come and be, come and sit at my feet and hear the old, old story again.  Come rest.  Find your rest in me and you will be given new strength to continue on. 

            At the Bishop’s Advent Day Apart this past week the speaker was the President of Wesley Seminary, Dr. David McAllister-Wilson.  One of the things he commented on was how we live in the Age of Anxiety and that our worst fear isn’t that there’s a wrathful, vengeful God, but that there is no God.  He showed a clip from the movie “Gravity” with Sandra Bullock where she’s floating out in space disconnected from her spaceship and trying to reach Houston on the radio, but there’s no one there.  Our greatest fear, according to Dr. McAllister-Wilson, is that we’re all alone, that there is no one out there, no one is listening to us, all is meaningless, much like the author of Ecclesiastes claimed.  Brothers and sisters, we gather together each week and at other times to remember that there is a God.  There is meaning to life.  We are not responsible for giving meaning to our lives, Jesus does that.  Shopping and busyness do not give meaning to our lives, Jesus does.  Other people, even princes and princesses or the rulers of this world, do not give meaning to our lives, Jesus does.  He is the King.  I am not.  You are not.  And that’s the good news we have to share with everyone we meet.  There is a God.  You are not alone.  God is listening to you.  God loves you.  I love you.  Let us pray... 

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[1] “The Incredibles,” Disney Pixar, 2004

[2] 2 Samuel 23:6-7, CEB

[3] 2 Samuel 23:6a, NRSV, GNT, MSG, NKJV

[4] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/despicable?s=t

[5] Interestingly enough, Loki, the bad guy in 2012’s “The Avengers” movie, says something similar: “Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

[6] Revelation 1:5

[7] Colossians 1:15

[8] Revelation 1:5b-6

[9] Psalm 14:1

[10] “The Violence of Love” by Oscar Romero, 2004, p. 12

[11] Matthew 11:28

Agent Provocateur

25^th Sunday after Pentecost

November 15, 2015

1 Samuel 1:4-20; Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

(Or watch it here: https://youtu.be/nJTjU6XlcFo )

            What happens when you get tired?  What happens when you get weary and fatigued?  What happens when, as one member so delicately phrased it this past week, you get so crotchety you can’t stand yourself?  I’m guessing that for many of us, a good night’s sleep is in order, and possibly a nap before then, if it can be arranged.  I don’t know about you, but when I hit that level of crotchetiness, I don’t want to be around anyone, either.  Just leave me be.  Now, what happens when the church gets tired?  The church is a living organism, after all; it’s the body of Christ.  What happens when we together get crotchety and worn out?  It’s not like we can sleep for a hundred years like Rip Van Winkle and wake up without any side effects besides a super-long beard. 

            The book of Hebrews that we read from this week and last is believed to be a homily, or sermon, in the form of a letter.  Its author is unknown, and it was likely written sometime between the years 60 and 90 A.D.  The temple that Jesus and his disciples are talking about in our Gospel reading was destroyed in 70 A.D., which makes that particular Gospel story an interesting pairing with the book of Hebrews.  Anyway, the congregation addressed by the book of Hebrews appears to be one that is tired, discouraged, and in decline.[1]  They seem to have become crotchety not due to a lack of sleep or chronic pain, but because evil still persists in the world, in spite of their best efforts.  Now, they’re at the point of questioning the value of following Christ.  Why Jesus?  Why the Church?  Why bother?  What difference does it make?  Attendance at this church has decreased, enthusiasm to serve has waned, and the loving and compassionate congregation they once were is now only a shadow of their former self.  It sounds a little familiar, doesn’t it?   

The good news is that this preacher of Hebrews has a solution.  He believes that the only way to overcome their despair “is to know more firmly and believe more deeply [in] the work and meaning of Jesus Christ.”[2]  The best way to overcome discouragement is to remember why you’re here in the first place, learn more about your faith, deepen your faith, turn your eyes again to Jesus, “the author and perfecter of our faith.”[3]  In the passage we read this morning, Jesus is the priest who offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, and then sat down at the right hand of God.[4]  Now, Jesus is waiting, “because he perfected the people who are being made holy.”[5]  Brothers and sisters, beloved, we are those people. We are the ones slowly being made holy, slowly becoming who he has called us to be, slowly living into our calling, being his people at this time in this place.  As we continue our journey together, Hebrews has some advice for us, in the form of do’s and don’t’s for our life together.  We’re going to start with the don’t’s first.

First, don’t provoke each other.  Don’t encourage bad habits, like stopping coming to church.  Hebrews says, “Don’t neglect to meet together with other believers.”[6]  That is a good habit, and good habits we want to affirm and lift up and let people know when they’re doing a good job.  The habits of worship and time with others who follow Jesus are good ones and life-giving ones.  That’s not to say that misunderstandings won’t happen.  Hannah certainly ran into quite a misunderstanding in our Old Testament lesson.  She came to pour out her soul to God, praying at the altar, and crying, and Eli, the priest, accused her of being drunk.  How often do we get it wrong when someone’s hurting!  How often do we just not know what to say, and so we say nothing at all, and the other person is hurt by our silence, because we don’t even acknowledge their pain.  The best thing you can do is to simply listen.  Eli was watching Hannah pray, but not listening to her prayer when he thought she was drunk.  Once he heard what she had to say, once he listened, then he could say, “Go in peace.  May God give you what you asked from him.”[7]  So, don’t assume you know what’s going on in someone’s life.  Don’t ignore someone who’s hurting.  Don’t provoke one another. 

In our Gospel this morning, Jesus says don’t let anyone lead you astray.[8]  He says many people will claim to speak for him, and say, “I’m the one!” and they will deceive many people.[9]   So, Jesus says, “Watch out! Take care!  Don’t let anyone mislead you.”  How do we do this?  In the Wesleyan tradition, which includes us Methodists, we use what is called the Wesleyan Quadrilateral.  John Wesley didn’t call it that, but he did outline four ways to test something.  The first authority, of course, is Scripture.  How does what someone is saying compare with what we read in the Bible?  The other three methods are all secondary to Scripture; it comes first.  A second one is tradition: what does church doctrine have to say about it?  How has the church interpreted it over the years?  Third is reason: what does your brain intellectually and rationally have to say about it?  God gave you your brain and the ability to think, so what do you think about it?  Does it make sense?  Finally, the fourth part is experience, which is your understanding of it based on your own life experiences.  What do your own experiences tell you about it?  What has happened to you in the past?  So, relying primarily on Scripture, yet also on tradition, reason, and experience, pay attention and don’t let anyone deceive you. 

            Instead, Hebrews says, do provoke one another to love and to good deeds.[10]  I loved the variety of verbs I found in different translations when I looked this verse up.  The Common English Bible (which PG reads from) said, “Consider each other carefully for the purpose of sparking love and good deeds.”  The old RSV encouraged us to “Stir up one another to love and good works.”  The New RSV said, “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.”  The Good News Translation (which Cowenton uses) said, “Let us be concerned for one another, to help one another to show love and to do good.”  Finally, the New Living Translation said, “Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works.”  Look at all the variety of ways we can say this!  Provoke, spark, stir up, help, motivate!  All of these verbs result in us building each other up!  Encouraging each other.  Speaking a word of promise when you can, like Eli did to Hannah.  Eugene Peterson in The Message wrote, “Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on.”

Jesus said, “Don’t be alarmed.”  We, the body of Christ, draw near to each other because of Jesus Christ, because we are all part of his body, the Church.  We hold fast without fear or faltering to our faith.  If you’re feeling discouraged, chances are someone else is, too.  However, rather than get together and throw yourselves a joint pity party, get together and encourage each other.  Call a friend.  Write a card.  Bake a birthday cake, or just create for no special reason at all.  Being creative, being encouraging, even when you don’t feel like it, are acts that are life-giving and that’s what we’re after.  See how inventive you can be in provoking someone positively.  We all know we can provoke someone negatively; even my fourteen month old can do that!  See how inventive you can be in provoking, in sparking, love and doing good.  Put your mind to that, make that your task and your goal, and I have no doubt that despair and discouragement will dissipate.

I still believe God is not done with our church yet.  However, our words and our actions don’t always reflect that belief, and if we’re done with God, if we’re done with this church, [shrug] then that’ll be it.  We know very well how to provoke each other negatively, any family does.  My sisters and my children know how to push my buttons better than anyone else.  I suspect my husband could as well, but he refrains from doing so.  Provoking each other positively can be a little more difficult, but is far more rewarding.  It is life-giving.  Salvation is always the endgame here.  In Hebrews, the question is not about losing your salvation, but are you going to stick with the people who are going to get their salvation?  Are you going to stick with the church?  And if you are, then are you going to spark each other to love and good works?  That’s how life together works.  If you are feeling discouraged, then double down on your faith and turn your eyes upon Jesus.  Hide in him, the Rock of Ages, for a time.  That’s how we “take a nap” as a church.  We go back to some of these old hymns.  “O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home!”[11]  Or, “Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”[12]  Or, our closing hymn, “How firm a foundation… is laid for your faith… What more can he say than to you he hath said, to you who for refuge to Jesus hath fled?”[13]  When we need refuge, when we need shelter, when we need a nap, when we are so crotchety we can’t stand ourselves, we seek out Jesus.  To paraphrase the last verse of our closing hymn, God will not desert the soul that leans on Jesus.  That soul, be it an individual or the church, “though all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake.”[14]  And that is good news.  We can, as a church, rest in him. Thanks be to God.  Amen.

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[1] Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 4, p. 303

[2] Ibid.

[3] Hebrews 12:2

[4] Hebrews 10:12

[5] Hebrews 10:13

[6] Hebrews 10:25

[7] 1 Samuel 1:17

[8] Mark 13:5

[9] Mark 13:6

[10] Hebrews 10:24

[11] UMH 117

[12] UMH 361

[13] UMH 529

[14] Ibid.

When No One’s Looking

24^th Sunday after Pentecost

November 8, 2015

Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17; Hebrews 9:24-28; Mark 12:38-44

(Or watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGVXioI7LII&feature=em-upload_owner#action=share)

            There was an inspirational trio of sentences that gained popularity a few years ago, that started out in a country song.  The original lyrics were: “You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money.  Love like you’ll never get hurt.  You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’.  It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.”[1]  Those lines were condensed to the more popular: “Sing like no one’s listening.  Love like you’ve never been hurt. Dance like no one’s watching.”  They’re encouraging because they’re a reminder that it doesn’t matter what others think of your singing voice, you should sing, anyway. In John Wesley’s Directions for Singing in the front of the hymnal he wrote to not be afraid of your voice “nor ashamed of its being heard.”[2]  Sing like no one’s listening; when it’s hymns you’re singing, it’s music to God’s ears, no matter whether you can keep a tune or not.  Love like you’ve never been hurt may be hard, also, because it’s taking a risk that you might be hurt again, and yet being bold and courageous enough to love again, anyway.  Love like you’ve never been hurt.  And many of us are self-conscious enough, that it can also be hard to dance like no one’s watching.  Unless you’ve trained for “Dancing with the Stars,” most of us don’t really want an audience when we dance.  When we don’t have an audience is when we feel the most comfortable cutting a rug.  So, what do you do, how do you act, when you don’t have an audience, when you stop being self-conscious and worrying about others’ expectations and just let yourself be free to be you?  Who are you when no one’s looking?

            We didn’t read the first part of Ruth’s story, just how it ends, so if you’re unfamiliar with it, I encourage you to read the rest of it some time.  The book of Ruth is just four chapters and a really easy read, because it’s a great story.  If you start at the beginning, what you learn by the time you get to the passages we read today is that “the characters in this story are beyond reproach.”[3]  Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz are “admirable people who acted with courage and kindness in everyday situations… Out of concern for others, all three [of them] do more than is required.”[4]  They go above and beyond any duties or obligations or expectations.  They are not just polite and well-mannered, but kind and gracious.  Ruth would have been better off staying in Moab, her own country, and finding a new husband there after her first husband died.  Instead, she stayed with Naomi and they journeyed together to Naomi’s home country.  It was a difficult life in Bethlehem where Ruth had to work hard in the fields to provide food. Naomi could have simply given up in self-pity.  Her husband and both sons had died.  She could have just said, “Woe is me.  I deserved better.  Life dealt me a bad hand.  It’s not fair.”  Instead, she carefully worked out a plan to find a good husband for Ruth, her remaining daughter-in-law.  Likewise, Boaz could have easily ignored Ruth as an undesirable, distant relative who had no claim on him as family and who he could have banned from his farm.  Instead, he protected her when she worked in his fields and responded compassionately to her brave request that he assume family responsibility for her and Naomi.  The whole story of Ruth didn’t have to happen.  Instead, Ruth was loyal to her late husband’s mother and Naomi worked to find a future with hope for them both, rather than give up and sit down and throw herself a pity party.  Boaz did not have to let Ruth glean in his fields or respond to Ruth’s claim, yet he chose to have compassion on her.  All three of these people showed that they have character.  They showed what they are like when no one’s watching.  They showed that they possessed qualities of honesty, courage, and integrity.  They took responsibility, rather than play the victim card, which all three of them could have done.  They could have viewed themselves as victims of their circumstances, life dealt them a raw hand.  Instead, they planned and took action to change their circumstances.  Ruth married again.  Naomi had a grandson, after all.  And Boaz was willing to let his son be heir to Ruth’s first husband, instead of his own heir.  Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz showed themselves to be people of fine, honorable character.

However, having good character does not mean you are automatically liked or accepted.  Ruth was a foreigner and Naomi was widow; they were outcasts in their society, in spite of having character.  Jesus obviously had integrity and character, but he was often rejected and hated.  Our opening hymn this morning began “Hail, thou once despised Jesus!”, and I think the argument could be made that some people still despise Jesus.[5]  Or, to quote Scripture, he is “the stone that the builders rejected [that] become the chief cornerstone.”[6]  In fact, sometimes you are rejected and despised because of your good character.  I remember a petition that circulated in high school that everyone in my class signed, except for me.  While I agreed with most of what was in the petition, there was one line in there that I didn’t agree with, and so I wouldn’t sign it.  I was the only one in my class, but I disagreed with that one line, and so I couldn’t, in good conscience, sign my name.  Just because you have integrity does not mean that others will respect you for it, unfortunately. 

Having a good character also does not mean that you’re perfect and without sin.  Paul writes in Romans that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”[7]  We, obviously, are not Jesus and so we are not perfect; we are those whom he died to save.  And so, even if we have an honorable character, we still sin, we still do not always do things perfectly.  We still need grace allowed to us.  The good news is that “Christ was offered once to take on himself the sins of many people,” as we read in Hebrews this morning.[8]  Christ was offered once.  He does not get sacrificed again and again each time we sin or each time we apologize for our sins.  Jesus Christ has done it once and for all.  He doesn’t keep getting back up the cross.  That’s what Dietrich Bonhoeffer was talking about when he wrote about “cheap grace,” which is to say that when we freely sin or keep doing the same bad thing over and over without worrying about the consequence, because hey, Jesus died for me, I’m covered: then, we cheapen his sacrifice.  It makes light of what he did for us on the cross.  Instead, those with good character work to minimize their character flaws, to overcome them. They strive to do better next time and not take lightly the gift of God, which is his Son, Jesus Christ.  We believe we are going on toward perfection, recognizing we are not there now, and so sometimes our temper will get the better of us, or that great trait of perseverance will turn into willful stubbornness, or we will turn a blind eye when we ought to speak or we will eat all the leftover Halloween candy in one sitting.  Hopefully, however, the recognition of the places where we fall short turn into character-building experiences as we intentionally seek to do better and improve our character and become more like Christ.

            Character means how you act when no one’s looking.  Unfortunately, we don’t know exactly how Jesus acted when he was by himself, because the Gospels were recorded by eye witnesses of his life; there were no hidden cameras.  Still, we do know what he said about other people’s behavior, such as the widow and the scribes we read about in the Gospel of Mark this morning.  Jesus commented to his disciples that the scribes, or church leaders, put just enough money in the offering box to make a good impression.  They made a donation in order to be seen making a donation; that was their motivation for giving.  They were leaders in the temple, they obviously were supposed to help out, and so they made sure that everyone saw when they did it.  These are the ones who longed for honor and recognition, for fame and celebrity, but they are the ones, Jesus said, who are also the most likely to cheat and to show off.  That speaks volumes about their character, doesn’t it?  All they really cared about was getting the best of everything for themselves and making sure that they looked good.  Then Jesus observed this poor widow quietly putting two coins in the treasury.  She didn’t want a big fuss about it, like the scribes did, because unlike them she was not extrinsically motivated.  The widow didn’t give because she was trying to show off, or for any external reward, or because she knew she’d get recorded in the Gospels for her story to be shared for millennia.  She didn’t know Jesus was watching or paying her any attention.  No, she didn’t give a lot, but proportionately, she gave everything she had, because she truly wanted to help.  She thought God could do more with her two coins than she could.  She knew it wasn’t much, but it was all she had to give. 

            Character can be developed; it’s not necessarily something you’re born with.  So if your halo’s been tarnished, that’s okay.  We believe in a God of second chances.  You can gain character, even if you haven’t had it in the past.  Act with integrity, regardless of whether you think anyone’s watching.  People with character don’t give their spare change or give out of their leftovers; they share what they have even if it means they go without because someone else needs it more.   Don’t throw yourself a pity party when things don’t go your way, or say you deserved better.  Instead, you get yourself together and form a plan to move forward with life.  Character doesn’t mean you’ll get fame or recognition or acceptance or even respect.  Sometimes people will hate you because you have courage and are honest and upright.  Character doesn’t guarantee you a rich or comfortable life, and it doesn’t mean that you’re perfect or always know what to say or how to act.  It means you have integrity.  It means you keep your word.  It means you are kind and compassionate, not just polite.  It means you’re gracious, quick to allow grace for yourself and for others.  Character is who you are when you think no one’s looking.  I pray for each of you what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians, that God may “strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.”[9]

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[1] http://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/02/02/dance/

[2] UMH vii

[3] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2617

[4] http://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/3219/worship-for-kids-november-8-2015

[5] “Hail, Thou Once Despised Jesus” UMH 325

[6] Psalm 118:22

[7] Romans 3:23

[8] Hebrews 9:28

[9] 1 Corinthians 1:8

Remember!

All Saints’ Sunday

November 1, 2015

Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 24; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44

            This past week at our district clergy gathering, a pastor shared one of my favorite Scripture passages.  Except, this time it made me pause, because the first word she said was ‘remember.’  “Remember, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear.”[1]  When I got home, I looked it up because I didn’t remember that passage starting with the word ‘remember.’  Then I looked up other translations, wondering if perhaps that’s how a different group of translators phrased that passage.  But I couldn’t find it in any translation.  The pastor added the word ‘remember’ to the beginning of the Scripture reading.  Remember this passage.  Remember this promise.  It’s something we know.  It’s something I’ve read dozens of times, and she began the reading by saying ‘remember.’  You know this.  I’m not saying anything new.  But you may have forgotten.  You may have gotten caught up in other things and distracted or overwhelmed or angry.  Remember.  It’s what Rafiki says to Simba when he goes to find him at the climax of “The Lion King.”  “Remember who you are!”  Remember God and his promises to you.  Remember God said, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”[2]  Remember!  Don’t pretend you forgot.  Don’t live as if this promise isn’t true.  It is!  Remember!

            But what happens when you honestly don’t remember?  When it’s not pretending or ignoring?  What happens when you’ve gotten caught up in the waters and all you can see are the wind and the waves and you’ve lost sight of Jesus, even though you’ve tried your darnedest?  Or what happens with illness or old age, when your memory just isn’t what it used to be, and it’s not your fault?  What happens when you don’t remember?  This is actually part of what was discussed at the continuing ed I went to a couple weeks ago.  It was called “Body and Belonging: Nurturing Wholeness in Christian Community,” and one lecture in particular was on dementia and the memory of our bodies.[3]  The standard account of memory and recall says that to forget means to be unable to bring the past into the present and recognize it as past.  It says that we’re autobiographical, that you are the self you tell about, and so that it becomes a problem when you are unable to tell your story, or when you’re not who you used to be, because, then, who are you?  However, the presenter is a Christian and he said that Christians aren’t defined by the stories we tell about ourselves, we’re defined by God’s story, and what God says about us.  He explained that the word ‘remember’ has Latin roots and means “to pass back through” and the Spanish word, ‘recordar,’ means “to pass back through the heart.”  So memory isn’t just in the mind, but engages the whole body.  Our bodies remember things, especially things like a strong smell or a particular taste.  Even if our brain doesn’t remember something, another part of our body might.  We are more than just our brains, we are also our hearts and our souls.  That’s why they say you never forget how to ride a bicycle, even if you haven’t done it in years.  Your body remembers, even if your brain isn’t so sure about it. 

The church, together, is the body of Christ.  In Romans, Paul writes, “We have many parts in one body, yet the parts don’t all have the same function. In the same way, though there are many of us, we are one body in Christ, and individually we belong to each other.”[4]  We belong to each other, and together we do the work of remembering.  That’s part of why we come here each Sunday, to remember together what God has done for us, to remember together God’s goodness, to remember together God’s promises to us.  We remember together that “God will wipe tears from every face,” like we read in Isaiah.[5]  We remember together that “the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it,” from our Psalm this morning.[6]  We remember together that there is this promise in Revelation of a new heaven and a new earth and that one day “death will be no more and there will be no mourning or crying or pain anymore.”[7]  We remember together the things we confess to believe in the Apostle’s Creed, which is part of why we repeat it each Sunday.  It helps us remember.  We remember how to pray when we pray together the Lord’s Prayer.  We remember, sometimes, how to praise, when we sing hymns together.  We remember the resurrection of the dead, when we read this story of Jesus calling out Lazarus when he had already been dead four days and the stench of death stunk to high heaven.  We come together each week to remember, to pass back through our hearts God’s story of salvation, to remember who we are and whose we are. 

We also come together each week to help each other remember.  Sometimes, when someone’s brain isn’t working right, whether because of disease or because of overwhelming circumstances or mommy brain, we remember for each other.  And this is important.  Sometimes we do forget who we are.  Sometimes we forget we are beloved children of God.  Sometimes we forget that we were made in God’s image.  Sometimes, for whatever reason, we forget.  And then we need each other to remind us, to hold our memory for us and tell us who we are. 

When I was little my family lived overseas for two years, and after we came back to the States and my parents shared about our experiences, I couldn’t tell you which memories I had on my own and which ones I had heard my parents tell so many times over.  I didn’t know which memories were mine and which ones were memories of stories I’d heard repeated over and over again.  My parents held some of the memories for me, the ones I was too young to remember.  And that’s true in any family.  As we have different roles in a family, we remember different parts of our family’s history and we remember those parts for other family members.  We remember for each other, when someone doesn’t know or has forgotten.  And it’s okay when someone doesn’t know or has forgotten.  It’s not a judgment.  It’s not a reason to feel guilty, like you should remember.  There are times when we just don’t, and then we can come together with our church family and someone will be here who remembers for us.  Someone will be here who remembers the color of your grandmother’s eyes.  Someone will be here to remember [why the curtain behind the cross for All Saints’ Day should be white] or to set up for communion.  We hold memory for each other.

Most importantly, we remember God’s salvation.  In Isaiah, we read a vision of worldwide salvation.  On Mount Zion, God prepares a feast for all the peoples of the earth.  God destroys death, wipes away every tear from each face, and removes the disgrace of the people Israel.  We remember, to quote Isaiah, that “this is our God, for whom we have waited – and he has saved us!”[8]  Sometimes we need reminding who we are; sometimes we need reminding who God is and what he has done.  He has saved us!  We have been saved, even if we forget, or try to pretend otherwise.  We come together to remember.  Jesus says, in our Gospel reading this morning, “If you believe, you will see God’s glory.”[9]  Remember, salvation for those who believe.  Remember, we are God’s people, you are God’s beloved child.  Together we remember. 

So, if sometimes you forget, it’s okay.  We come together to remember and there are others here who will remember for you.  If you’re at a place where you want to forget, there are still others here who will remember for you.  Not to judge you, because we all have painful memories we want to forget, but to help you, to be here for you, to be the muscle memory that remembers how to ride a bicycle even if the brain forgets.  “Though there are many of us, we are one body in Christ, and individually we belong to each other.”  That was the difference, the speaker at this conference said, between belonging and the political term of inclusion.  Inclusion means equal access and equal treatment, it means everyone’s in the room.  But it’s not the right theological term.  You can be included without belonging.  Just being in the room doesn’t mean you are loved.  Belonging means you are loved.  Belonging means you are missed when you’re not in the room.  Did you know that when I look out at you, I’m actually doing a mental assessment of who’s missing?  I look for who’s missing each Sunday morning.  Not so that I can guilt them about it, but because they belong.  We belong to each other, as Christ’s body, the church.  And as the body, we remember for each other, who we are, and whose we are.  Then on All Saints’ Day we remember who has passed during this past year, who still belongs, but who we no longer see on this side of heaven.  We remember, because they are missed.  We remember, because they are part of our family.  And again at the table, we remember and we participate not just with our minds, but with our bodies, as we physically come forward to taste and smell.  We remember not just with our minds, but with our whole body, because other parts remember when our brains forget.  Thanks be to God we have each other to help us remember!

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[1] Isaiah 43:1

[2] Isaiah 43:2

[3] Dr. John Swinton, lecture at Pastor’s School and Convocation held at Duke Divinity School, October 13, 2015

[4] Romans 12:4-5

[5] Isaiah 25:8

[6] Psalm 24:1

[7] Revelation 21:4

[8] Isaiah 25:9

[9] John 11:40