Monday, September 26, 2011

Minding Our Minds, Mouths, and Muscles

As I now preach in English, it's a little easier to post my sermons, since I don't have to translate them from Spanish first :) This is the one from yesterday.

Texts: Matthew 21:23-32; Philippians 2:1-11

I grew up in the Episcopal Church. That’s why I read the Apostle’s Creed so closely at the 8 and 11 services – if I’m not careful, I switch over to the Nicene Creed, even though I’ve now been a United Methodist for over 10 years. The liturgy of the Book of Common Prayer includes a prayer of confession in the regular Sunday service. I was reminded of its opening lines in preparing for today’s sermon: “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed.” We sin against God in thought and word and deed. It’s funny, to read the parable of the two sons at a glance, you think the first son did the will of the father and was obedient. But the first son wasn’t obedient in word. The second son wasn’t obedient in deed. Does one matter more than the other? Do actions speak louder than words? Or, as Christians, are both our words and our actions, not to mention our thoughts, important?

Let’s start by looking at our text. The opening scene is Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem talking with the chief priests and elders. The day before was Palm Sunday, when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and the people laid down their coats on the road and shouted “Hosanna to the Son of David!” at him. The city officials didn’t know who he was, but the crowds knew, “This is Jesus from Nazareth.” Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all people doing business there. He quoted the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah about how this was supposed to be a house of prayer and it became a den of thieves. So, after all that mischief and mayhem, Jesus left Jerusalem to spend the night outside the city walls. Jesus was still feeling pretty feisty because on his way back in the next morning, he randomly cursed a barren fig tree. Then he made it back to the temple and those pesky chief priests and elders who are still trying to trap him by something he says. This is an ongoing occurrence in the Gospels, the chief priests, elders, Pharisees, basically anyone with any religious authority keep trying to trip Jesus up and get him to say something sacrilegious so that they can arrest him, charge him with blasphemy, and ideally, execute him, so he would no longer be a nuisance to their society or a threat to their way of life.

So, today’s question is, “By what authority are you doing these things and who gave you this authority?” And Jesus answers a question with a question. “I’ll tell you if you tell me whether John’s baptism came from heaven or from man.” Well, this question really stumps the chief priests and elders, and not because they don’t know the answer. They do. But their answer disagrees with the answer of the crowd who’s overhearing this whole exchange. The chief priests and elders don’t think John the Baptist was a prophet. They think he was some crazy man who lived in the desert and ate weird food and dressed weird and called people to turn to God. But they didn’t need turning to God, the chief priests and elders were already keeping God’s law and studying it and remembering it. But the people believed John was a prophet and they responded positively to his message by repenting, which means turning away from your old way of doing things and turning toward God. So if the chief priests and elders answer Jesus with what they believe, that John’s baptism came from man, they’re going to anger the people and they’re afraid of doing that. And if they say it was divine, then Jesus is going to ask, “So, why didn’t you believe him?” Instead, they try for a neutral answer, “We don’t know.” Jesus responds, “Well, I’m not going to tell you either. Now, tell me what you think about this” and Jesus tells them the story of a man and his two sons.

The man asks the first son, “Son, go work in the vineyard today.” The son says “No.” Does that resonate with you? Are there times when your first reaction to a request is to say no? When you’re feeling stubborn and you just want to say no? Regardless of what’s being asked? And then later on, after you think about it, maybe check your calendar, consider who it is who’s asking you a favor, and you realize, oh wait, I guess I can do that. And the first son ends up going to work in the vineyard. The man asks the second son the same thing, “Son, go work in the vineyard today” and this son says, “Sure, no problem.” Makes you wonder if this son is a people pleaser. Any people pleasers here today? Have trouble saying no? Don’t worry, we’re not going to take down names and ask you to do something for the church. But have you ever over-committed and overextended yourself to the point that you’re so stressed and you can’t do everything and you have to let something, if not a few somethings, go? You hate to tell people no, and then you have to go back on your word sometimes. The second son doesn’t make it to the vineyard.

And Jesus asks the chief priests and elders another question, “Which son did what the father asked?” They say, “The first,” he’s the one who was obedient in his actions, even if not by his words. Jesus doesn’t seem to contradict or affirm their answer; instead he follows up on his question about John. John came to tell them to change their lives and turn towards God, but they didn’t do it. But guess who did believe John? All those people they loved to hate and look down on, all those folks on the edges of society, who are invisible to society, the prostitutes, the criminals, those without the proper documentation, those without homes, and those who aren’t “contributing” to society. They all heard John’s message and believed him. And even when the chief priests and elders saw these changed lives, they didn't care enough to change their own lives and believe him. Sometimes Jesus has some really good stinging barbs and that’s where today’s story ends. The dregs of society changed their lives when presented with the Gospel, but the religious leaders didn’t. They have the right words, but not the right actions.

Now, let’s look a little closer at those two sons and that question, “Who did what the father asked?” Who was obedient? I would suggest that each son was partly obedient and partly disobedient. The second son said the right thing, he said he would go. But he didn’t follow through. The first son did the right thing, with his actions, but not with his words. Both words and actions matter.

Actions may speak louder than words, but that doesn’t mean what you say doesn’t matter. Words have power, too. Think about the constructive power of saying “I love you” or “you’re beautiful.” Now think about the destructive power words can have, “I hate you,” or “you’re stupid.” The high school youth were on retreat last weekend and their theme had to do with affirmation and being positive. A whole lot of that has to do with what words you use. Do you compliment people more or criticize people more? Do you rant at your fellow drivers who don’t know how to drive or do you pray for them? Do your words build up or tear down? Word choice is so incredibly important. Careless words hurt people. But careful words help and love and heal and affirm. Y’all know I used to pastor a Hispanic church and so I’ll give you a common example from that world, which is part of our world, the legal term “illegal alien.” Think for a second what that means. To call someone an alien denies their humanity. You’re saying that they’re not even a human, not created in God’s image, not your brother or sister. Words have ramifications. When God calls, regardless of what you think, we’ll get into thinking in a minute, when God calls, don’t carelessly answer. Don’t say yes because you have trouble saying no and don’t say no because you’re being stubborn and you don’t want to please anyone but yourself. Be honest, so that your actions can match your words.

And your actions… well, we’re all good at doing the right thing, right? We don’t kill people, although we may not feed those who are starving to death. We don’t steal, although we may justify something by saying, “I’m not really stealing, I’m just borrowing.” See how words matter? We have gotten so good at deceiving ourselves. It’s not wrong if I don’t get caught. I’m not speeding unless the cop says I am and even then I can still plead it down to “improper equipment” – my action wasn’t my fault. Or, I’m not cheating unless someone gets upset by it. I’m not being offensive; I’m just speaking my mind. Well, your mind can be offensive. I know mine can. What does God want from you in terms of actions? The 10 commandments is one place to start. Don’t be greedy, be nice to your parents, remember God and don’t put anything before him or speak badly about him, don’t lie, don’t kill, don’t cheat on your spouse, don’t steal, and make sure to rest one day a week. Jesus’ greatest commandment was to love everything and everyone: love God, love your neighbor, and love yourself. Micah 6:8 says what God requires of us is to “Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.” The thing about all of that, regardless about which way you approach it, is that you have to do it intentionally. You have to live your life on purpose. You have to be intentional in what words you choose and how you act.

Finally, let’s not forget that third part of that prayer of confession, even though it’s not mentioned directly in the Gospel we read, but it was in the Philippians passage. We sin against God in thought, too. Paul wrote, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” How on earth do you do that? How do you control your thoughts? Do you ever have the problem with your train of thoughts that just keep going and going and you just can’t rein them in? Sometimes it can be good if you’re brainstorming. But other times they can get more and more negative, more destructive, making you angrier and madder… how do you derail that train? I hope you have found ways, I’ll mention two that work for me. One is talking to someone, either about what I’m thinking about and we work it through or I just vent, or we talk about something else to distract me. My husband and my best friend from college are great at this. Find someone you can talk to. The Christian life is not one of isolation; we are not on this journey by ourselves. We are part of a community that is much larger than this church. Chances are good that in this worldwide community, you can find someone to help you mind your thoughts. The second way I learned when I served in Nicaragua. I was there for a year, although I had planned to be there for longer. When you’re immersed in another culture, eventually you’re going to complain about it. Why can’t they have air conditioning? Why can’t the streets be cleaner? Why can’t the buses run on time? Basically, why can’t this culture be like my home culture? And what I did in Nicaragua, when I started to have this train of griping thoughts, was to mentally shout the word “GRACE!” GRACE! Allow some grace for those who are different from me, allow some grace for me. Love them anyway, that whole un-fairness of grace that Pastor Ken talked about last week. In the midst of my complaints, GRACE would come through loud and clear and derail them. All my grumbling would disappear.

When I approach things with grace, whether in my mind or with my mouth or through my muscles, everything changes. When I fill my words with grace, I am a nicer person to be around. When my movements are filled with grace, not necessarily that they are smooth and fluid and I don’t trip, but grace-filled actions mean that I’m thinking of God and my neighbor and myself first of all with love. I was at a workshop at Duke last weekend and the speaker encouraged us to meet others with a positive prejudice – to remember that that other is a gift of God, as am I. And I know y'all know how to do this, it's how you greeted my husband and I, with a positive prejudice. It's how we should greet everyone we encounter, remembering that they are a gift of God and allowing some grace for them. When our thoughts are influenced by grace, when our words are salted with grace, and when our actions reflect both those thoughts and those words, I think then we are much less likely to sin against God in thought, word, and deed. Minding our minds, our mouths, and our muscles, using them for building up and not tearing down is what we are all called to do.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Prayer

I compiled this litany and we used it in worship today. The first two stanzas are inspired by the United Methodist Book of Worship; the third stanza comes from the liturgy the United Church of Christ wrote for commemorating 9/11; and the final response is a direct quote from "Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals."

Let us pray.

Everlasting God, this day revives in us a myriad of memories and feelings. What security and safety we felt were shattered.
Thank you that our security, our safety, and our identity are found only in you.

Years have passed and yet we remember this day with grief and animosity.
God, forgive us our anger and desire for revenge.

When we rejoice in the downfall and defeat of our enemies:
Forgive our misplaced loyalties; open our hearts to see our enemies as our sisters and brothers in your family.

Lord, instill in us forgiveness as a permanent attitude.
Grant us the courage to forgive those who harm us in our families, our communities, and in our world. Help us recognize our own need to seek the forgiveness of others.
Amen.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

I'm Sorry

I have learned recently that, for the first time, the words of this blog have hurt someone's feelings. My words hurt someone. I certainly didn't mean to; I try to be very careful in what I write, but it still happened. I don't want to name names, but you know who you are. I am deeply sorry. I like and respect you. I know you love your job and are very good at it! I never meant to imply otherwise. I will strive in the future to choose my words even more carefully than I have been. I'm sorry and I hope you can forgive me.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Gluten-free Communion


Last week I felt like I pulled off a coup! One of my responsibilities at my new church is to assign communion servers. This task does not have much to do with being an associate pastor, but came about because I believe celebrating the Lord's Supper is one of the most important things we do as church and so I was more than willing to to take it on.

I talked with one of the usual servers, who is gluten-intolerant and she asked about having a separate gluten-free station. She appreciates that now there is a gluten-free wafer, where there didn't used to be (and she used to stay in her seat and not participate in the Eucharistic feast), but her allergy can be aggravated by simple cross-contamination from a hand handling glutinous bread to handling the gluten-free wafer.

I then talked with another United Methodist Church which has had a separate gluten-free communion station for years and discovered that they not only have gluten-intolerant folks who use it but also immuno-compromised folks (on chemo, etc.). The gluten-free wafers are not touched by anyone else: they are shaken from their box onto a cloth and then the person coming up picks up his/her own wafer. The point is to be all inclusive, welcoming, and hospitable. Even when you don't think there will be someone present at a service who will want the gluten-free, you provide it, anyway.

I presented all this information to my fellow staff members and they agreed, we should have a separate gluten-free station at all services. When I emailed the original lady I'd started this whole conversation with, her response back was: "Oh, wow! This is awesome! Thank you so much, Pastor Heather!" I felt like I'd pulled off a coup. This change means that much to her and to others who felt hindered from coming to the communion table.

This past Sunday we had a separate gluten-free station at each service. It felt a little anti-climatic after all the work building up to it. The set-up needs tweaking a little bit, but it was a start and folks appreciated it.

There are so many reasons folks don't participate in communion (I blogged about it before on June 15). I am glad there is now one less reason at Orange! It's the LORD's table and we are all invited guests! Therefore, let us not hinder one another from feasting, too.

Monday, August 22, 2011

The Service Where I Couldn't Stop Laughing


For the first time as a worship leader, I cracked up at the pulpit. I couldn't help myself!

At the 11:00 service, the church tradition is for elementary school kids to acolyte. Yesterday, there were two boys, around ages 8 or 9. The lady in charge of them got them ready and made sure the wicks were plenty long so the flames would stay lit as they processed up the aisle during the opening hymn. However, as the two boys processed, they each gradually made their wicks shorter and shorter. By the time they reached the front row of pews, one of their flames had gone out. By the time they reached the altar, both had been extinguished. The two boys looked at each other, at each other's lack of flame, and tried anyway to light the candles!!!

I love watching the symbolic light of Christ enter the sanctuary and the candles being lit. I also love kids. So each Sunday as I sing the opening hymn from the pulpit, I watch the acolytes and their flames. I started laughing at the point where both flames were extinguished. I put my hand over my mouth to try to restrain myself when they both tried to light the candles without any fire. That's when the rest of the congregation noticed, those who didn't have a clear line of sight to what was happening, because they saw me trying to stifle a laugh, and then everyone laughed!

I had trouble keeping a straight face for the rest of the hymn ("To God Be the Glory"). At the end, I said, "Praise the Lord that Christ is the light of the world who never goes out!" and everyone laughed again. Then we moved on.

Until the end of the end of the service. During the recessional hymn, the lady in charge of acolytes caught my eye and we both cracked up again.

However, after the service I made sure to tell both boys that they did a great job acolyting!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

When I Became a Pastor...

When I became a pastor, I started wearing my pearls on a regular basis and not just for extra special occasions like graduations and weddings.

When I became a pastor, I got a new name, pastora, Pastor Heather, kinda like when I became a teacher and overnight became Ms. Willet.

When I became a pastor, I had to start figuring out how to be transparent (which comes almost naturally to me) without talking about myself too much. People want you to listen and relate, but not share too much how you relate. They don't care how you relate. And I held back at the UMW (United Methodist Women) session of griping about husbands. They asked me to contribute, but I really didn't feel it was appropriate for me to do so.

When I became a pastor, I forgot half my knowledge of the Bible. I knew a lot before seminary, then more during seminary, and now when someone asks me where something is, half the time I preface my answer with "I think" or else say, "lemme go look it up." Of course, I also blame online concordances for this - I don't have to remember as much as I used to, because it is easier to look things up now, except when people put me on the spot.

When I became a pastor, Sunday mornings became all-important. I am, and have to be, ON on Sunday mornings. Ready, on the ball, awake and alert, high energy (at least mentally and spiritually, if not physically). I can't miss Sunday mornings. Unless I'm seriously sick, like last Sunday. And I still didn't feel justified in missing last Sunday until the doctor on Monday told me it was good I did. I can't stay out late Saturday night. I have a bedtime on Saturday night, and it is hard to keep.

When I became a pastor, I became expected to know where everything is in the church. This even happened just yesterday - a lifelong member and active volunteer asked me, who has been here just 7 weeks, where something was.

When I became a pastor, I also became a preacher. In fact, I'm referred to as preacher as often as I'm called pastor, at least in English. This hasn't happened yet at my new church, the senior pastor is referred to as the preacher; my first Sunday preaching here won't be til Sept 25. Regardless, I don't like reducing the role of pastor to preacher. It is so much more than preaching.

When I became a pastor, I started a "job" that is just as fulfilling and important as teaching. For the most part, I like working with people. I like building relationships (which is what teaching is, too - how do you think you get students to learn?!). I like making a difference in people's lives. However, that's not the end goal, that's not why I do it. I'm not a pastor to feel good about myself. I'm not a pastor to change lives; that's God's job. I'm a pastor because God called me to become a pastor and my job is to point to God.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Learning through Death

Last week was bookended by death. On Monday, I assisted in the funeral for the son of a church member. On Friday, I was present for my Grandma's burial.

The son of the church member died unexpectedly, at age 52. I had never met him. But I learned about him at his funeral. For one, the church was full. Lots of people came to say good-bye to him. The more interesting aspect I found was the presence of his co-workers. There were two rows full of family members on one side of the aisle; there were two and a half rows full of his co-workers on the other side. They came in together, sat together, and stood together. Eight of them served as pallbearers. There was a row of bright yellow trucks in the parking lot where they had parked together. This man had worked at this same job for 30 years. And his co-workers came to pay their respects. The only thing they didn't do together was pay attention during the service. It was fairly obvious to me which ones were accustomed to being in church and could have prayed the 23rd Psalm along with me and which ones were only in a church for this man's sake. But they all came.

On the other hand, my Grandma lived a long, full life. Her death was not a surprise. It was back in February and we held her memorial service shortly thereafter. However, the ground in NY was too frozen last winter to bury her then, which is why she wasn't buried until last week. I thought I knew my Grandma pretty well, but I learned even more about her in her death. She had planned her memorial service before she passed: chose which Scriptures she wanted read and which hymns she wanted us to sing as well as choosing to celebrate the Eucharist. Grandma was a life-long Episcopalian; the service was at the church she'd attended and been active in for the previous 30 years or so. The recessional hymn, "Faith of our Fathers," written by Frederick Faber in 1849, has stayed with me these past six months. That Grandma would chose this hymn to be sung by her family and friends at her memorial service speaks volumes to me.

Faith of our fathers, living still,
In spite of dungeon, fire and sword;
O how our hearts beat high with joy
Whenever we hear that glorious Word!

Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.

Faith of our fathers, we will strive
To win all nations unto Thee;
And through the truth that comes from God,
We all shall then be truly free.

Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.

Faith of our fathers, we will love
Both friend and foe in all our strife;
And preach Thee, too, as love knows how
By kindly words and virtuous life.

Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.