progress

In our church there are women ranging in age from 8 weeks to 102.

Every one of these women has or will come of age with the ability to vote. Though the oldest among us grew up in the midst of the struggle, and may have voted for the first time amidst controversy.

this is one of the less offensive ads. distressing.

We women have been voting for 92 years. Before 92 years ago today, women not only had no say in our national life, but we also endured mocking, insults, abuse--verbal, physical, and printed. We can barely imagine now the ads saying that women are too feeble-minded, too hysterical (a word invented to describe women) for the responsibility of voting. (and for lots of other things too) It was considered not only normal but even expected to put women in their place, make decisions for them, insist they couldn't control themselves.

Maybe we haven't made as much progress as we'd thought.

But we do have one thing those women 93+ years ago didn't have:

We can vote.

Broken With Pride: the 13th People's Choice sermon of 2012

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

Broken With Pride

Exodus 20.8-11/Deuteronomy 5.12-15, Luke 13.10-17

26 August 2012, People’s Choice 13

Keep the Sabbath day and treat it as holy, exactly as the Lord your God commanded: Six days you may work and do all your tasks, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. Don’t do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your oxen or donkeys or any of your animals, or the immigrant who is living among you—so that your male and female servants can rest just like you. Because the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and everything that is in them in six days, but rested on the seventh day. That is why the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

In Deuteronomy, the commandment ends not with creation, but with this:

Remember that you were a slave in Egypt, but the Lord your God brought you out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. That’s why the Lord your God commands you to keep the Sabbath day.

Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. A woman was there who had been disabled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and couldn’t stand up straight. When he saw her, Jesus called her to him and said, “Woman, you are set free from your sickness.” He placed his hands on her and she straightened up at once and praised God.

The synagogue leader, incensed that Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, responded, “There are six days during which work is permitted. Come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath day.”

The Lord replied, “Hypocrites! Don’t each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or donkey from its stall and lead it out to get a drink? Then isn’t it necessary that this woman, a daughter of Abraham, bound by Satan for eighteen long years, be set free from her bondage on the Sabbath day?” When he said these things, all his opponents were put to shame, but all those in the crowd rejoiced at all the extraordinary things he was doing.

All summer long, you’ve been asking the questions and we’ve been trying to answer them from the pulpit. Now it’s time to reverse—I get to ask the questions! Unlike the questions you’ve asked us, I’ll start with an easy one: put your hand up if you have ever thought “I wish it was the weekend” or “how many days until vacation?” Next…what comes to mind when you hear the word “Sabbath”? … okay, now hands up if you’ve ever thought “I’m too busy to take a break.”

What would happen if you did take a break, or a day off, or a nap, or a vacation?

Of all the ten commandments, I think this is one of the top two hardest—the other being that pesky first one about no other gods. When it comes to observing the Sabbath, honoring God by keeping it holy, taking a day to rest and let others rest as well…well, it just seems a little archaic. In our fast-paced 21^st century world, taking a day off could mean falling behind in the productivity race, which could mean less chance of a promotion or a raise, or could lead to a boss’s displeasure, or even the dreaded loss of opportunity. Observing the Sabbath would mark us as strange, or old-fashioned, or selfish. And besides all that, there’s the question: what would our work, our family, or the world do without us if we stopped for a moment? And then the frightening follow-up thought—what if they get along just fine…what does that mean for who we are, our place in the world, our importance?

And so we go on—busy busy busy, and proclaiming our busy-ness at every turn too. It’s almost as if we take pride in breaking the commandment to rest—surely our busyness means that we are too important to follow that command, surely it must be more of a suggestion for people with as much to do as we have, surely God doesn’t mean it.

Until the day our bodies rebel, and sickness forces us to rest. Until the day our creative energy gives out because we haven’t left it any time to rejuvenate. Until the day we snap and brutalize our relationships because we never had any downtime.

Then we discover, for at least a few minutes or a few days, that even as we have been rebelling against the perceived shackles of the commandment, we have been enslaved by our own view of ourselves.

Now I know, most of our cultural understanding of Sabbath comes from things like Little House On The Prairie, where Sabbath-keeping is about sitting in a straight-backed chair reading the Bible for a whole day that could be spent playing, or from the blue laws that restricted our shopping and eating and drinking habits until just a decade or two ago. Those legalistic Sabbath experiences feel more like restraint than freedom. But did you notice that in the lesser-known version of the commandments, the one from Deuteronomy, the reason given for keeping the Sabbath is that we used to be slaves, and we’re not anymore, so celebrate that freedom—take a day off! Slaves don’t get days off. Slaves don’t get to recline and enjoy a meal or a conversation with friends. Slaves don’t get to give their animals or their land or their families a break…they work work work because their life literally depends on it. But we are not slaves anymore.

Except when we are.

Nearly a thousand years after the commandments were first given, a woman walked into worship. She was a woman who was defined by her condition—bent over, afflicted, outcast, broken. She was a woman who worked hard to overcome the situation, every moment of every day, without rest. When she came to worship that day, and when Jesus straightened her back and looked into her eyes—maybe the first person to look her in the eye for eighteen years—the church elders turned on her. Not on Jesus, but on the woman, who dared to step out of her definition and into a new one—Before, she was the bent over woman, she was the afflicted one, she was the local outcast—but now she is a child of God, beloved, a daughter of Abraham, a member of the covenant community, a human being. She was freed, not only from illness but from a false identity and from all the work it takes to keep that up. And in that same moment, the elders and the congregants were freed as well. No longer must we sit by while others suffer—we are freed to act compassionately. No longer must we have special powers or the right college degree or a title to share good news—we are freed to speak the word of God into every circumstance. No longer must we keep silent while leaders bully or buy us into submission—we are freed to witness to another way. We are not slaves anymore.

 Except when we are.

 Many—perhaps even most—of us are in thrall to the ideal of self-reliance. We are enslaved by our perceived need to be available all the time. We willingly wear the chains of an identity primarily defined by what we do and how productive we are. We are slaves to the idea that we can waste or make time. Our pride is in the way of our freedom. We need to step aside and recognize that we are not the ones whose effort creates and redeems and sustains. In fact, sometimes we hinder God’s movement even with all our good intentions. 

Following the commandment—to lay aside our work and rest awhile—shows us another way. It gives us some perspective, teaches us that we do not rely only on ourselves, but on one another and ultimately on God. It gives our bodies, minds, and spirits a chance to take in the glory of God and to connect with God’s providence in new ways. It allows us the space to just be, to rest in the heart of God, and so to be renewed for the calling God has for us. It is freedom of the best sort—freedom to be who we are created to be, not who we think we have to be.

So—do we need Sabbath in the 21^st century? Yes! We need it as much as ever. Now, as at every other time in history, we are in danger of believing ourselves to be capable and crucial to the running of the universe—to be as important, or maybe even more important, than God. Which means it makes sense that Sabbath and Idolatry are two of the hardest commandments to keep—because they are so interrelated. When we break the fourth commandment we also break the first, for we place ourselves in the God-spot. It’s God who neither slumbers nor sleeps, it’s God who creates and redeems and sustains…and it’s God who rests, and calls us to do the same. Notice that the commandment doesn’t lay out how exactly—we have to figure out how to set aside the time, to keep work and housework and obligations and maybe even technology from intruding into that holy space…and that “how” will be different for every family. But I believe, and God believes, that it can—and must—be done. So lay your burdens down, put up your feet, and rest awhile.

May it be so.

a Sabbath hour

Amen.

Friday Five: choose your own adventure

so...I hardly ever post twice on my blog in one week, let alone in one day. but then I had the opportunity to make up the Friday Five for today, so....

This summer at RCLPC we've been doing what we're calling a "People's Choice" sermon series--people submitted sermon topics, and the preachers have taken them on. This Sunday I'm preaching my last in this series, about Sabbath. (Why yes, we did blatantly steal this idea from KathrynZJ, who did it last summer...) It's kept people engaged all summer and we've all had a great time. So now it's your turn...

1, 2: What are two texts or topics you wish you could hear a sermon about?
I would like to hear a sermon about Miriam, beyond her role in the whole Moses-in-a-basket adventure. She sticks around for a lot more of the story, but we often forget about her.
I would also like to hear a sermon that takes a creative look at the women who followed Jesus, beyond "and they provided for him out of their resources."

3, 4: What are two texts or topics you wish you could preach a sermon about?
Hmm...well, as a preacher I often get to preach those sermons I wish I could, except there are a few things that I think require more time or depth than a sermon can really give. At RCLPC a sermon can only be about 12 minutes long, and while most of the time that seems fine, it's difficult to address some bigger picture things in that time--for instance, what does it mean to be Church in the 21st century, and how does that affect our involvement in political and civic life? Or how can we nurture God's passion in the life of the church and of individuals, and what does that mean for the ways we think about "church" (especially when it comes to programs and education and mission)? Finding ways to link those big questions with the lectionary and simultaneously break them down into smaller parts that can fit into other sermons because they are way too big for just one is a huge challenge...and then add in the part where people may or may not be there every week or remember enough to make those connections from sermon-to-sermon, and we have ourselves a big ole conundrum!

5: What's your favorite sermon you've ever heard or preached? What makes it your fave?
I can't believe how hard it is to answer questions I made up myself! LOL. Umm....let's see...I think my favorite sermon that I have heard is probably a toss-up between a sermon preached by Otis Moss III at the Proclaiming the Text conference at Montreat in 2009 (it was about re-mixing, starting with Joshua doing a Moses re-mix) and one preached by Anna Carter Florence on the women in the Moses-in-a-basket story at the HerStory Conference in 2008. Both were amazing and have stuck with me for their vibrant imagery, strong good news coupled with challenge, and interesting twists on stories I'd heard or read dozens of times before.

Wanna play? Answer on your blog and leave a link, or play in the comments!

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Okay, so my summer vacation was actually work, but it was still awesome. Two weeks leading a small group of mostly church people around Scotland. It was part Presby-Pilgrimage, exploring some of the history of our religious tradition and connecting with our spiritual roots. It was part tourist-extravaganza, visiting palaces and cultural spots. It was part study tour, exploring Scottish history/geology/politics/culture from 135 million years ago up to now. And of course it was part Iona Community Awesomeness.

I went a couple days early and stayed a day after the rest of the group (cheaper flight!) and took the opportunity to visit Inverness, look for the Loch Ness Monster (no sightings, sorry), see the Highlands a bit, and learn more about the 1745 Jacobite Uprising that culminated in the "battle" (read: massacre) at Culloden. I also took a moment to visit the first palace in Scotland at Linlithgow, to meet up with another RevGal and visit the Borders, and to eat plenty of delicious curries.

the entry courtyard of Linlithgow Palace

the window into the king's presence chamber-it had colored glass so when light came in it created a double rainbow at the foot of the throne. cool.

Looking across the palace courtyard from the top of a tower

the entry to Linlithgow Palace

Culloden Battlefield

clan graves at Culloden

due to a public transportation adventure gone awry, I didn't actually make it to my boat tour on time. However, it was making another stop in a lock on the River Ness, so I was able to get on partway through. This is looking back at the canal...aka the part of the tour I missed. I'd been really looking forward to that part, but alas...

Loch Ness

Urquhart Castle, as seen from a boat on Loch Ness

Looking down on part of the Urquhart Castle complex from a higher spot...with Loch Ness looking pretty!

this was the view for my entire Highland train journey. so gorgeous.

Melrose Abbey

yes, that gargoyle is a bagpipe-playing pig

looking out at the Borders from the top of the Melrose Abbey tower

looking down into the sanctuary

Kelso Abbey...what's left of it

Floors Castle--a real live castle still lived in by a real live Duke-and-Duchess!

yeah, I took this from a weird angle, but still...the place is HUGE

In between, I facilitated the travel and learning and conversation and delicious meals all over Edinburgh, Glasgow, St. Andrews, Stirling, and Iona. We visited the classics, like  Castles, the Wallace Monument, St. Giles Cathedral, and Holyrood Palace. We also went a bit off the beaten path with visits to Govan Old Parish Church (where we got a nice surprise--John Bell was there for morning prayer and to give a lecture to another group, which we hung around for!), Glasgow's Transportation Museum (surprisingly cool), and a behind-the-scenes tour and conversation with a Member of the Scottish Parliament. Not to mention that we spent a week on Iona, building community with people from around the world via song, worship, daily tasks, workshops, and a 7 mile walking pilgrimage.

inside Edinburgh Castle

Holyrood Palace courtyard

St. Andrews Cathedral

the William Wallace Monument, Stirling (that column on the corner? The staircase.)

Stirling Castle

St. Giles Cathedral

We ate entirely at restaurants recommended by friends. For the most part, it was local food, often slow-food, traditional and not-so-much. We enjoyed a chip shop, a curry house, scottish comfort food, homemade soups and breads, local produce (and meat, for those who eat that), and traditional desserts. Everyone was, in advance of the trip, worried about the food--between the combination of a vegetarian trip leader and the stereotype of British food, they were probably right to be worried! But now that they've traveled with me, they know how important food is...and how good I am at finding places that will be awesome and will cater to even the pickiest (or most allergen prone) among us. Even our most skittish eater had a wonderful food experience, and is still talking about the vegetarian restaurant!

the clean plate club at the vegetarian restaurant!!

scottish comfort food: sausage and mash, fish and chips...

One of the great things about being a small group (there were 8 of us) is that we were able to travel entirely by public transportation. That gave us yet another window into the Scottish life/culture/people that we wouldn't have had if we'd rented a minibus or gone on a big group tour. It was sometimes frustrating waiting for buses or trains, and sometimes crowded or hot or whatever, but it was also real life, not just the sanitized version of vacation many of us are used to. Yes, we were tourists, but we were tourists who did our best to get into the place as it is, rather than keeping ourselves separated from it by tour bus windows.

One of the things I learned on this trip is that leading a group can be very stressful! Part of that is because I always want things to be perfect when I'm showing people a place I love. I feel the same way about taking people to my favorite restaurants--I want them to love it, and I'm nervous the whole time that they won't! There's something vulnerable about inviting people into your favorite things, and I definitely had some anxiety about that on this trip. Not to mention that of course I want people to like and respect me, which meant I had to ensure that all the details would go smoothly (with only one or two notable exceptions, they did), and I needed to know everything and be able to answer every question (or bring in someone who could, which is much more my forte!). Umm...no pressure or anything! Every night when we got back to the hotel, I would spend time blogging the day for the church, reviewing the itinerary for the next day, the historical/religious/spiritual/cultural significance of any place we were visiting, and making sure I was certain of all the times and transit connections and restaurant locations and reservations. Then it was to sleep, then up early to have tea and biscuits and to try to get in a workout before meeting the group for another exciting day! Getting to Iona was a relief because at least we weren't going anywhere and I didn't have to plan meals, though of course there's still plenty of group-leadery-stuff to do there too.

Without fail, Iona always feels like home. I don't know what it is about that island, but basically within minutes I could feel that visceral settled-happy-love thing going on. It's not just mental or emotional but physical too. That place tugs at my heartstrings. A friend met on Iona many years ago asked, before I left, "is it weird that when I think of Iona I get positively homesick?" My answer was no...and still is. Because it happens to me too, no matter how happy I am in my current home, something about that island is home in a more basic way than where I live or where I came from. Strange but true, and beautiful too.

the nunnery

looking across the garden and sound toward Mull

the abbey

port ban

the bay at the back of the ocean

st. martin's and st. john's crosses outside the abbey

the sound and Mull

ruins

tea time in the garden!

lots of good intentions...

I keep meaning to blog. I even sometimes write blog posts in my head when something is happening and I want to remember to write about it. But for some reason they never make it out of my head and onto the keyboard/screen. This is not a new phenomenon, of course. And it's not just in blogging, either--I haven't been writing much of anything beyond the sermon lately. Once we sent in the book manuscript (which, for those playing along at home, was 3 months ago), I apparently ran out of words. Or maybe life was beyond the words, somehow.

So...I'm going to try again. Coming soon: the classic "what I did on my summer vacation" post (except that it was a working vacation...but there will be pictures!), contemplating the level of casual violence in our society as seen through the microcosm of Six Flags, and probably some stuff about church and society and culture. And maybe some pictures of the cats. Possibly a book review (you never know!).

And maybe I'll start posting my sermons again too. The last few have been sermons I didn't love, but when they were preached they kinda worked, so perhaps it's time to post them even when I think they might not be good, since apparently (according to John) I have no ability to discern whether my own sermons are good or not. ha.

In the meantime...there is a ton of cuteness over here.

Transformers--a sermon for people's choice summer 1

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

Transformers

Matthew 7.16-20,  2 Corinthians 3.16-18, John 3.1-8, Romans 12

3 June 2012, Trinity and People’s Choice 1

One of the questions I often ask the confirmation class is “what will change when you are a church member?” What is it about standing up here, professing your faith, and getting your own line in the church directory makes you different?

The ultimate answer, after lots of conversation, is of course nothing. The only thing that changes when you become a member of the congregation is that you can vote and hold office. Being a member doesn’t make you a different person, doesn’t automatically increase your involvement, and doesn’t make God love you any more than God already does. Joining a religious institution does not make you more faithful or closer to God. That takes work on our parts—more than just getting our names on the roll or in the directory.

But the other question I ask them all the time, I now ask you: what difference does it make in your everyday life that you are a follower of Jesus? What changes inside of you as you walk this faith journey? What makes you different from people who choose to follow another path? Again, God doesn’t love us more when we follow Jesus. Following Jesus does not always lead us to increased church involvement or even to membership. But it does make us different, it does change us. Faith is about a process of becoming, not a process of arriving. In 2 Corinthians (3:16-18), Paul writes “…but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”

One degree of glory to another…one degree at a time, even. Slowly, slowly, yet it happens---because it comes from the Spirit of God and no one can thwart God’s vision and desire, not even the Roman Empire, let alone us. Day by day, when we choose to follow Jesus, to hear his call and walk in his footsteps, we exhibit a little more of the image of God planted within us. Just as in any other close relationship, we take on some characteristics of those we spend time with—maybe a phrase or a fashion or even an inside joke. And hopefully our relationships are also with people who draw out the best in us. This is how a relationship with God works, too. In fact, the Latin word credo, from which we get the word “creed” and which is usually translated “I believe,” is better translated as “I pledge my loyalty”—it’s like a marriage vow, saying “I do and I will” trust, love, and even obey (though we usually leave that obeying bit out nowadays!). When we make that kind of vow, when we stand up here and profess that faith and answer those questions, then everything does change. We do not belong to ourselves, we are in covenant relationship with someone who wants to see us become our fullest and truest self, who wants us to be a walking reflection of God’s image, kingdom, and glory.

This isn’t just about heaven, either—it’s about being transformed, day by day, in this life, so we can be part of transforming the world into the kingdom of God. We don’t pray “bring us to heaven,” we pray “your kingdom come.” Jesus didn’t say “if you’re good enough, one day you can play harps in the clouds,” he said “the kingdom of God is here.” That means it’s not just for perfect people, either. Scripture is full of examples of people loved and called by God despite what we would consider their imperfections. Abraham and Sarah were 100 years old. Noah drank too much. Moses stuttered and had a fiery temper without any anger management skills. David couldn’t restrain his lust, for a woman or for power. Jeremiah was just a child when he was called, and as an adult he was prone to depression. Isaiah was a “man of unclean lips and heart.” Peter had no impulse control. James and John were overly ambitious. And yet all these people were created in the image of God, were loved, and played central roles in God’s story. Many of us have pasts filled with varying levels of sordid tales, but we also trust in a God who redeems even unto death, a God whose love is more powerful than anything we might do, a God whose grace gets inside us, becomes a part of us, and that changes both us and the world.

We aren’t the first to be confused about how this all happens, and when, and why. In John 3 (1-8) we hear about “a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.’ Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ Nicodemus said to him, ‘How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?’ Jesus answered, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, “You must be born from above.” The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’”

You may recall that Nicodemus continues in his confusion, and Jesus is a tad incredulous—“are you a leader of Israel and you do not understand?” Well, Jesus, it’s not as if you’re speaking in plain English. The Holy Spirit is not easily wrapped up and explained, and the work of the Spirit is unpredictable—obviously, since Nicodemus is a Pharisee, not exactly one of Jesus’ best friends. That he sought Jesus out at all is a sign that something was going on inside, that Nicodemus didn’t fit the stereotype, that something was working on him and changing him. But he’s not there yet—he’s busy trying to make Jesus’ words literal rather than letting the Spirit grow inside him and open his mind and heart. He’s still stuck on the letter of the law, while Jesus is trying to encourage him to be open to another way.

We Presbyterians aren’t so into the conversion stories, the born-again experience, but Jesus tells us it’s something important—that we can’t see the kingdom of God if we aren’t born of the Spirit. If we don’t have room for the wild and mysterious movement of the Spirit in our lives and our religious systems, we’ll be blind to what God is doing in our midst. Could this be why the kingdom of God seems so elusive—because not only are we not looking with the right lenses, but also we’re dwelling in the letter rather than the Spirit? We’re busy thinking that church is great because in just an hour it gives our kids a moral compass and it makes us feel good and gives us an outlet to help people and a place to see our friends, but we’re missing out on so much more to the life that God envisions…what would happen if we followed the wind, let it blow us out of our houses and our churches to seek Jesus, let it make us into something new and beautiful and world-changing?

Sometimes, though, we bump up against these other hard stories, like when Jesus says in Matthew 7 (16-20), “You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits.”

That sounds more like the Pharisees than like the Jesus we just encountered in John. It sounds so black and white, cut and dried, with no possibility of change. But the witness of scripture, all those people I mentioned earlier, suggests that we might be reading this wrong. It’s tempting, if we think of faith as an experience of following the rules in order to get a reward, to see this teaching simply as a statement of fact—there are good and bad people, and you can tell which is which. Then again, if our faith is more about a struggle toward an ideal, perhaps we’re more likely to read this in conjunction with the parable Jesus tells in Luke 13, in which the farmer convinces the landowner to let him nurture the fruitless tree, to dig around it and fertilize it, to spend time and effort growing good fruit. And if we read this together with Paul’s letter to Corinth that we heard earlier, we might conclude is that there must be something else to this passage, something we’re missing, perhaps because our vision of the kingdom is clouded.

Just before this, Jesus is talking about walking the narrow way to life—the harder path that may not lead to what the world values as a good life, but will lead to an abundance we don’t even have words to describe. And right after, he says that the one who does the will of God is the one who truly proclaims him Lord. Many of our paths meander and take wrong turns—what matters is that we come back to the Way, that we keep practicing even though we’ll never be perfect. In other words, despite this being a convoluted agricultural metaphor: the fruit defines the tree, not the other way around. And the way to get good fruit is to cultivate, to nurture, to practice. The question is not whether you’re a good or bad tree, or whether you can change from one to the other—the question is whether you produce fruit, and what that fruit is. Scripture says that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, generosity, and self control. Those are all things you can cultivate, with God’s transformative help.

The purpose of a religious community, organized or disorganized, is to give us a framework in which to practice as we become who God is calling us to be. Nicodemus’s religious community was about understanding and following the rules, but religion is not about head things—not really. It’s not about the doctrines and the intellectual belief system. Not one of those fruits of the Spirit comes from the mind. It’s about transformation, it’s about becoming, it’s about a way of living, it’s about learning to trust. It’s about making room for the wind of the Spirit, and letting the grace of God change your life.

And so we’re back to the question: what difference does it make to you, in your own life, inside and out, every day, in the world, that you are a follower of Jesus? What does your life, transformed by God’s grace, look like? Paul advises us in Romans 12, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

No pressure, of course.

We are to be transformed, to day by day reveal more of God’s image and glory, to allow the Spirit to nurture and grow us into trees that bear fruit for the kingdom. What does that look like every day? Paul continues, “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ‘if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Of course, much of that sounds like it’s somewhere in between crazy and impossible…but nothing is impossible with God. When we stop seeing faith as a set of intellectual propositions, when we outgrow religion as a structure designed to keep us in line, and when we practice following Jesus every day, we can finally let the wind of the Spirit blow us out into the wide, mysterious world, and we’ll see it as the kingdom of God. And then, friends, with God’s grace living inside us, God’s glory will shine out from us, and the result will be more than meets the eye.

May it be so. Amen.

On Fire--a sermon for Pentecost

Rev. Teri Peterson
RCLPC
On Fire 
Acts 2.1-22, 24, 32-33, 37-39 27
May 2012, Pentecost

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.’ All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, ‘What does this mean?’ But others sneered and said, ‘They are filled with new wine.’ But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them: ‘Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: 
“In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
 and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
 and your old men shall dream dreams. 
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
 in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
 and they shall prophesy. 
And I will show portents in the heaven above
 and signs on the earth below,
 blood, and fire, and smoky mist. 
The sun shall be turned to darkness
 and the moon to blood,
 before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. 
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” ‘You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. 
This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses. Being therefore exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that you both see and hear. Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, ‘Brothers, what should we do?’ Peter said to them, ‘Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.’

I know not everyone gets as excited about things as I do, but think back to the last time you were really excited for something. What was it? Can you call up that feeling of anticipation, of joy, of passion? When we’re passionate about something, we can feel it, and so can the people around us. We talk faster and louder, for some of us our color rises and people wonder if we’re burning up inside—and we are, that’s why it’s called “being fired up!”! That excitement calls up the fire in our bones and our bellies, and we can talk for hours, at a speed and volume that may very well lead people to wonder if we’re…well…drunk, even if it is nine-o-clock in the morning.

 That kind of passion, that kind of excitement, that kind of love is contagious. You can feel the spark of positive energy in a room or a crowd. Especially when we share things that have called to us, changed us, brought us joy—and when we share in terms others can understand—it makes people want to be a part of that experience or to take action. The fire spreads. Sometimes it’s a slow burn, other times it’s a wildfire driven by wind.

No one knew what to expect when the Spirit blew into that room all those years ago, igniting the church with love. They hadn’t put together a committee and made careful plans. When the Spirit blew in, they were just an average church—a bunch of people who like to tell stories and host potlucks, with their good and bad habits, their fear and their faith intermingled, uncertainty about the future just as prominent as their love of singing and eating together. What would they do? Who would they be? Why were they here? What was the point? Sure, the fellowship and the worship are nice, and people are friendly, but what are we here for? And can we make it? Do we have a future?

 It’s into this uncertainty that the Spirit comes, whistling and rushing and filling, setting their hearts and their tongues aflame. They were overwhelmed with love, igniting a holy fire in that place. They couldn’t help themselves, they had to talk about it—and not just amongst themselves. They can’t just use the words they’re comfortable with, they can’t just communicate on their own terms—they learn at last to reach into people’s hearts and truly speak in ways others can understand. Finally, they can pass on their excitement, their hope, their stories, their love—they can share the thing that has changed their lives.

There’s a reason that Pentecost is often called the Birthday of the Church. It’s because this is the day when we learned who we are, why we are here, and what to do about it. It’s the day a gathering of people who like potlucks became the Body of Christ commissioned to share the love of God with the world. It’s the day a small group of scared men and women who weren’t sure they could survive the coming year were transformed into a true community that learned to pray, to teach their faith, share their resources, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and feed the hungry without worrying about the budget. It’s the day a bunch of people who thought they knew the story found out what it means to be a storyteller. They didn’t just wait for people to come and notice that they were friendly but struggling, they went out and spoke the language of literally every nation on earth, and found they had more than enough resources for their task. All those names John had to pronounce are the names of every nation that was known at that time—every. single. one. That’s how far God calls us—to every single place, to change the life of every single person, one story and one meal and one small flame at a time. It’s not enough to be on fire with love ourselves, it’s not enough to say we’re just one light, not enough to stay in our upper room and wait for the Spirit to do something else for us while we worry in comfort…we have to do something about it, until the whole world is on fire.

  (video will play at this point)



We come to the table, bringing what we are able, and we’re not alone in this story…we’re looking for a calling, something we can do to change the world…well, the first answer, as Howard Thurman says, is to ask what makes you come alive—because what the world needs is people who are alive. What is your passion? What makes your heart beat faster, what brings color to your cheeks, what makes you talk faster and louder? The world needs that passion. The church needs that passion. We need that spark within and among us. That’s where God is moving in our midst.

Of course, sometimes the church and the world are afraid of passion, of fire. It threatens the way things are, it brings change and that often means pain or destruction before new life takes hold. The heat makes us uncomfortable, and we back away. Or worse, we look for ways to contain it in our safe fire pits, or even to put it out. A few years ago a friend of mine was leading worship on Pentecost when, during the prayers near the end of the service, a candle on the communion table burned dangerously low and the gauzy red tablecloth, which was wafting on the breeze of the air conditioner, caught fire. After a few moments of shouting, confusion, and frozen uncertainty, someone thought to grab the baptismal font and dump the water on the table to douse the flames. While this was a perfectly practical and good thing to do, it does make for a strange metaphor. As my friend put it, “in an absurd clash of symbols, the waters of baptism actually extinguished the fires of the Spirit.”

We can laugh about that, especially since no one was hurt and nothing was damaged. But the reality in the absurd clash of symbols is hard to miss—sometimes entering the church community (which is one of the things symbolized in baptism) can be the fastest way to douse the flames of passion with “we’ve never done it that way before” and “you should…” and “that’s not what we do here.” Working through the channels to get something done, to try something new, to put passion into action, can be exhausting, and many people simply give up—why bother? Especially when the world tells us to just go along with the flow, don’t make waves, be sensible. It’s easier to just come to worship and be filled, or to drift away, or to find some other place where I can put my passions and gifts to good use. Flames belong in their place—safely contained in fire pits or rule books, not actually burning and heating and lighting and spreading.

 But the fire that the Spirit ignites can’t be contained, any more than Jesus could be contained in a tomb or God could be contained inside the Bible. God has a way of bursting out of the confines we put up, and this is no different. The people gathered there were literally blown out of the house, and they spoke to the ends of the earth—because the promise is for you, and your children, and everyone who is far away, everyone God calls. Wind and fire will work together to spread God’s transforming love, setting the world on fire. Will we fan the flames, or dig the trenches?

 May the fire of God’s love burn brightly within us, and through us into the world. Amen.

monday morning haiku

meant to take out trash
memory sparked by truck's sound
oh--maybe next week.

dear internets...

...it's not that I don't love you.

Quite the opposite.

I love you too much, and that means that I do not get enough work done.

And by "not enough work" I mean the three enormous writing projects that are all due in the next 3 weeks. Some of them in the next 4 days. One of them in the next 18 hours.
(which is to say: my regular job gets done just fine. It's the stuff I need to do in addition to all that I'm finding difficult! not to mention that I haven't washed any dishes in a week, nor exercised for several weeks...)

SO: don't take my absence the wrong way. It's just that I have to do a lot of writing, and you are so seductive with your pictures, your interesting articles, your funnies, your pithy sayings. The little blue twitter bird and the red facebook notification bubble are so seductive that I can't help myself. Therefore, I'm going to have to turn you off for a bit. I'll be back, though....I couldn't stay away if I tried.

mwah!

ten on tuesday

okay, so it's barely still tuesday, but whatever. in no particular order, 10 things.

1. I am working on two writing projects and one presentation, plus of course my regular job. One writing project requires me to say whatever I have to say in 500 words or less. The other writing project requires me to write nearly 5000 words on a single topic. I would dearly love a writing project that has a word requirement somewhere in between.

this is what I do now, everywhere I go, even on vacation in Sonoma

2. I am a bad cat mom. Sunday morning I ran out of cat food but forgot to go to the store...Sunday night/Monday morning I had two hungry cat-monsters. I gave them some wet food I had on hand, but on their apparently very empty stomachs that just led to cat vomiting. gross.

3. I am grateful for my friend Elizabeth's newfound lack of carpeting, which led to her SpotBot coming to live at my house. It makes cleaning up the evidence of bad cat mothering much easier.

4. We had a very awesome Earth Day at church, and I so love our music ministry and the ways they can really pull everything together.

5. Since I have these two writing projects and a presentation all coming up in the next 4 weeks, naturally I have been spending time making arrangements for an event that is 3 months away. Because that event is a trip to Scotland, and sometimes a girl just needs to put some hard numbers to the daydreams.

6. I got parsnips in my box from Door-to-Door Organics last week. I still have no idea what to do with those. Suggestions welcome.

7. I have about a dozen books to read, but am putting them all off until the big writing projects are done. Like a reward, sort of. I hope that works.

8. I have run out of ice cream. I don't know how it happened, but one day I had ice cream and the next day I didn't. Well, okay, I know how it happened (I ate the ice cream) but I'm not clear about how I allowed this situation to progress to the point of having no ice cream in the house at all. It's quite distressing.

this is how I feel about ice cream. you can see why I'm sad to not have any.

9. Good thing I have girl scout cookies, courtesy of every girl scout I know across the country. Thanks Grace, Iona, Abby, Anna, Lily, and Selam!

10. I asked the confirmation class this week what was exciting in their lives. They didn't have anything exciting, which I thought very strange. I usually feel like my life is pretty boring, but compared to theirs my life is a whirlwind of excitement!

every day is earth day: a sermon for April 22 2012

Rev. Teri Peterson

RCLPC

every day is earth day

a bunch of different texts

22 April 2012, Easter 3B (off lectionary), Earth Day

Nehemiah 9:6

You made the heavens, even the highest heavens, and all their starry host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. You give life to everything, and the multitudes of heaven worship you.

John 1:3

Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being.

Psalm 24:1-2

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it, the world and its inhabitants too.

Because God is the one who established it on the seas; God set it firmly on the waters.

Psalm 19.1-4

Heaven is declaring God’s glory; the sky is proclaiming God’s handiwork.

One day gushes the news to the next, and one night informs another what needs to be known.

Of course, there’s no speech, no words—their voices can’t be heard—

    but their sound extends throughout the world; their words reach the ends of the earth.

Job 12.7-10

Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all humankind.

Genesis 1:1, 31, 2:7-9, 15

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth... God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

The Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life. The Lord God planted a garden in Eden in the east and put there the human he had formed. The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it.

Ezekiel 34:17-18

Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture? Must you also trample the rest of your pasture with your feet? Is it not enough for you to drink clear water? Must you also muddy the rest with your feet?

Romans 8:22, 19

We know that the whole creation is groaning together and suffering labor pains up until now. The whole creation waits breathless with anticipation for the revelation of God’s sons and daughters.

Yesterday morning, eleven of our youth and six intrepid adults woke up early and went to join in the Community Clean Up Day. We spent two and a half hours picking up trash from a park that had a stream running through it…you would not believe how much trash collects in a tree-lined stream. Cans, firecrackers, plastic bags, candy wrappers. We also had a few big finds—lots of golf balls, part of a realtor’s sign, a five gallon bucket, and an old boot. Some of the people who walked their dogs in the park stopped to talk to us, and more than one thanked us for the work we were doing, and promised to remember us whenever they walked in that park. But a few of them followed that up with “I’m glad someone does this, because I wouldn’t.”

Now, I’m not against people not wanting to get dirty. It was cold and muddy work, cleaning up that stream. It was hard to pick our way through trees and bushes to get the trash that collects in the underbrush. But how many of us walk past things we could do to help? Most of that litter didn’t start out in the stream or the underbrush, it started out blowing down the street or dropped on the playground, but we walked by. Not all those candy wrappers got embedded in the dirt because someone pushed them into the ground—they were dropped and forgotten, or noticed and left anyway, or even stepped on and ignored. “It’s not that important” right? “It’s probably biodegradable.” “It’s dirty.” “It’s just one wrapper, one cigarette, one plastic grocery bag, one water bottle.” We say the same things about letting the water run when we wash dishes or leaving lights on even when we aren’t in the room. It’s just a little thing—does it matter?

Even when we do pick things up or dispose of them properly in the first place—what happens to them? Do we recycle, or throw everything away because it’s quicker? How did we end up with so much disposable stuff in our society, and where does it all go? Few of us live near a landfill, so we hardly ever have to think about what happens to the stuff we throw away. But it goes somewhere, and sits and sits and sits, taking up valuable land, or it collects in the rivers and oceans, like in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, which is a floating island bigger than Texas made up entirely of plastic waste. Our pattern of consumption and waste leaves a mark—whether it’s a garbage island, a slick on the mud at the bottom of a stream, unbreatheable air, or mutant fish—and that mark hurts other parts of God’s creation, from animals to plants to other human beings who can’t find clean water or healthy enough soil to grow food. How did we get here?

Some of this is the byproduct of living in a wealthy society with a culture of disposability. To make life more convenient we have also made it expendable. As an example, this week I saw an interesting photo-article about school lunches around the world. While the food differences were intriguing, the most interesting thing was the dishes on which lunch was served. The only disposable things in the entire set of 20 countries’ lunches came from American schools. Styrofoam or paper trays, plastic fruit cups, plastic forks, paper cups, foil chip bags. In other countries, ranging from Japan to France to Kenya, students ate lunch served at school on real dishes. Some of them had metal bowls, others ceramic plates, but nothing was disposable until you got all the way to the end of the article, to the American lunch.

Into the middle of this reality we hear the word of God for our day: “Is it not enough for you to feed in the good pasture and drink from the stream, must you also trample and muddy the rest of it?” God planted a garden, placed human beings in it to take care of it, and called everything “very good.” All around us God’s creation calls out in praise even as we use it for our own purposes. And before I get myself into trouble, let me just say: yes, human beings are the pinnacle of the creation story as told in Genesis 1. God makes all the rest of creation, then makes human beings in God’s very own image, and places us in this beautiful gift of a world.

But the gift is more like a loan—because, as we learn in the rest of scripture, “The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.” The world belongs to God, not to us—our job is to take care of it and use it wisely, to love God partly by loving the things God has made. Our job is not to use it however we want with no thought to the rest of the beautiful web God has woven, no thought for the future of the system and those who will live in it after us. When one strand of a web breaks, the rest is weakened as well, and that is true for God’s creation just as it is for the icky little spiders who weave those webs I can so blithely use for a metaphor.

Most of the time when the Bible talks about creation, it’s about how all of God’s creation sings, it’s about how even creation praises the Lord so why can’t we seem to learn, and it’s about instructions for taking care. Huge chunks of the Old Testament are about how we ought to care for the land, give it fallow seasons, not pollute it, and use it wisely so it will produce good fruit—enough for everyone! In fact, the word used in that Genesis 2 creation story, where we heard that God took the human and put him in the garden to farm and take care of it—usually that is translated as “to till and keep it.” And that word that can be translated as “keep” or as “take care” is the same word as in the blessing—“The Lord bless you and keep you.” We are to care for, to keep, the gift of God’s creation in the same way that God cares for and keeps us. This is not a gift given lightly! The land was such a gift for God’s covenant people, and the way to keep the gift was to treat it carefully and with respect. And yet when we get to Paul, we hear this: “we know that the whole creation is groaning…waiting with breathless anticipation for the revelation of God’s sons and daughters.” Groaning…breathless anticipation…the whole world is waiting for us to become who God has made us to be, to see what a complete set of God’s creatures participating in God’s kingdom might look like.

Well, aren’t we all God’s children? Here we are, we haven’t been hiding or anything…so how come the world hasn’t noticed yet? How can there still be more to wait for?
Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, the creator of all things, would not walk through a park and proclaim that they wouldn’t stop to pick up some trash.

Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, creator of the first garden, would not feed themselves and trample the rest of the pasture while others are hungry and thirsty.

Perhaps because someone living as though they are made in the image of God, creator and owner of the world and all that lives in it, would not stand silent while their culture continues to regard everything (including some of its people) as disposable.

Perhaps the issue is not that creation waits for the right people, but that creation waits for us to grow into our inheritance, into our true selves, into the creatures God created to live in this delicate web of life. All creation groans and waits breathlessly for us to be transformed by God’s grace so that the image of God is revealed in us. When we take a place in the web of creation, rather than trying to remake it to our liking, subdue it for our uses, and force it to follow our own way, we may very well find ourselves singing the same song as the sky and stars and birds and fish and sea—every day, not just on Earth Day.

May it be so. Amen.