the word of the lord?? -- a sermon for September 15 (Narrative Lectionary year 4 week 2)

Rev. Teri Peterson

PCOP

the word of the lord???

Genesis 21.1-14, 22.1-14

15 September 2013, NL4-2

The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, ‘God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.’ And she said, ‘Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.’

 The child grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, ‘Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac.’ The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, ‘Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named after you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring.’ So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, ‘Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ He said, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt-offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.’ So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt-offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, ‘Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.’ Abraham took the wood of the burnt-offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, ‘Father!’ And he said, ‘Here I am, my son.’ He said, ‘The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt-offering?’ Abraham said, ‘God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt-offering, my son.’ So the two of them walked on together.

 When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, ‘Abraham, Abraham!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ He said, ‘Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.’ And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt-offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place ‘The Lord will provide’; as it is said to this day, ‘On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.’

This past Thursday on the patio, we talked about why we call the Bible the word of the Lord, while other books that seem to tell stories of love and redemption are just novels. After all, the Spirit can and does speak through literature and movies and other media. The stories of Harry or Aslan or Frodo or Buffy or any number of other characters offer us windows into the relationship between humans and God. But none of them are scripture. None of those stories are the ones we gather around each week, base our lives on, and insist are the unique and authoritative witness to God’s love and power. There is something about scripture that causes us to proclaim that it is the Word of the Lord.

That something is actually several somethings. Among them: that these stories of God and God’s people have been held for millennia as the Most True—capital T—words about who God is and what God does, and who we are and who we are called to be. The cloud of witnesses gathered around these texts highlights the sacredness of the stories. In these pages we encounter God. And every word is filled with the Spirit—as is our understanding. The purpose of the stories, laws, poetry, songs, letters, prayers, and speeches we find in this book is to point us toward God’s most perfect revelation: Jesus the Christ. Anything we read that does not point us to the love and justice of God as revealed in Jesus, we are reading wrong. So yes, this book is the word of the Lord—not the words of God, written by lightning bolt or divine finger, but the word of God as it is known and lived and heard and told and practiced by a community of people, a means of revealing God’s power and love.

And then we get stories like this one. That, frankly, make me want to toss the whole thing out all over again. Who on earth thinks that putting not one, but TWO consecutive stories of child sacrifice into a holy text is a good idea? After all, church is supposed to be family friendly. We love children. Jesus said “let the little children come to me.” And here we are, reading about one kid sent into the desert with just a flask of water, and the other dragged up a mountain and very nearly burned as a sacrifice. It’s really hard for me to affirm that this is the word of the Lord.

And it should be. Because we know that every word in these pages should point us to the love of God made visible in Christ, and there’s not a lot that’s very loving or Christ-like about this story. After all the promises God made to Abraham and Sarah, after all the effort Abraham and Sarah made to follow those promises, or even to fulfill them on their own, now we have this: one child cast aside as unworthy, and one demanded as proof of faithfulness. Whatever happened to the unconditional covenant, where God simply promised and that was it? Nowhere before has God insisted on proof or payment or anything in return. Now, all of a sudden, Abraham—who argued and bargained with God several times before this—is perfectly willing to trudge three days away to tie Isaac up on a pyre. Thankfully, at literally last moment, Abraham and God come to their senses, and there’s a ram ready for the slaughter instead.

 THIS is the word of the Lord?

It’s important to remember that Abraham lived in a culture where the gods asked for sacrifices all the time. It would not be unusual for him to watch his neighbors offer a child at the high place. In fact, there are other places in scripture where God has to remind the Israelites that they are not to sacrifice their children—so the practice was definitely around.

It’s also important to remember that often God’s voice comes through the voices of others. Abraham had heard God speak directly, and in the voices of strangers.

The text says this was a test. It’s hard to see how a test that plays with someone’s life is a signpost pointing toward the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ. Unless perhaps it’s a test of just which god we follow? When Abraham knew he was talking directly to God, he often talked back, bargained, asked questions. This time, he obeys the voice silently—most uncharacteristic of his relationship with God up to this point.

Could it be that this is a story of Abraham hearing the voice of another god, through the voices of his neighbors, and then the One True God stepping in and calling off this horror? We know that God is a God of abundant life, of love and justice and grace and freedom. Any interpretation of this story that insists that God demanded this sacrifice as proof of Abraham’s faithfulness is an interpretation that does not point to Jesus—to the God who sacrificed himself on the altar of our stubbornness, not the other way around. So perhaps here we are reading of a human being testing the boundaries—how different is this new God anyway? How meaningful is this promise? And in response, God puts a definitive end to the practice of human sacrifice, grabbing Abraham’s hand—and by extension, our hands too—and taking the knife away. It is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar.

Even when the voices of our many gods call out, it is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar. Make no mistake—there are plenty of voices we, like Abraham, think are perfectly reasonable. They ask us to sacrifice our children on the altar of prosperity, of national security, of morality. They ask us to sacrifice our children for the sake of our military reputation, our economy, our global power. They ask us to sacrifice our children for profit, for safety, for our understanding of what is right. They tell us it’s okay to sacrifice some children, or some poor people, or some elderly people. These false gods surround us, asking us to forget that fifty years ago today four little girls were killed in Sunday School when their church was bombed because their skin was the wrong color—sacrificed to self-righteousness. They ask us to forget that poverty fuels violence that has claimed the lives of thousands of children in our county alone—sacrificed to apathy. They ask us to forget that the things we buy often perpetuate a cycle of violence and despair that destroys the lives of children—sacrificed to convenience. These false gods shield our eyes from the reality that more people are enslaved today than at any time in history, that sporting events are also sex-trafficking events, and that the vast majority of people affected are children—sacrificed to instant gratification.

The voices are all around us, suggesting that the ways we sacrifice our children are perfectly normal. What’s one more time? It’s good for us, it’ll prove something, it’s cost effective, and it’ll all be okay.

And so the test: will we listen to the voice of the God who says: Give me the knife. It is not okay to sacrifice one another on any altar. period. No more. No more. I am a God of life, abundant life. I am Love. I am hope and justice and peace. My faithfulness is not contingent on your faithfulness—and good thing! Those other gods may have compelling voices, but their call always leads to destruction, and my call leads to life. This I promise.

That is the word of the Lord.

Amen. 

weekend interesting

The internet was down at church all week.

ALL. WEEK.

You might be wondering how I had time to come across all this interesting stuff then. There's a LOT of it, after all. This will probably be the longest post on my blog in....ever.

Answer: smartphone. I gorged myself on the internet while I was at home, instead of doing things like sleeping and exercising and cooking.

Here's some of what I came across. My empty fridge testifies to the amount of awesome on the interwebs in the past 10 days or so...

The future is here! This is every bit as cool as the movie that came out the same year it was launched.

Yep, the future is definitely here. Maybe we could start living in it.

Except sometimes we're caught up in the past. Does re-living 9/11 end up shaping our future in ways we don't want? We’ve seen the dangers of being defined by one horrifying event. We’ve watched as other cultures have re-enacted the wrong done to them, but been blind to the ways we’ve done the same. Yes, it was awful and terrifying and wrong, and we grieve with those who grieve and for the families of those who thought this was the way forward. And we also remember that it is not the way forward: we must go on as the best version of ourselves, not the worst.

These people said it way better than me.

Speaking of the past eclipsing the future...it happens at church too. (okay, it mostly happens at church.) 

And why is that? Every church says they want innovative leaders that will move them forward. There are bajillions of creative people leading congregations (and bajillions more who want to lead congregations). So why is it so difficult? Well, because as much as we want to think pastors can do it all, we can't. And this is DECIDEDLY one thing we can't do. We can offer tools, hold out a vision, and do our best to create a culture, but the reality is that we're not in charge of this one. you are.

If you are looking for some inspiration though, say, to be an agent for good in the world, here's some. Maybe we could even apply some of that inspiration to our church communities.

First step toward changing our communities? THIS. Our Jewish brothers and sisters and in the midst of High Holy Days...and that always makes me wish we had a period in the Christian calendar that was so specifically focused on forgiveness--as in, asking for and extending forgiveness from and to other people. Literally. Like we had to actually practice out-loud reconciliation in church. (Go ahead, try to tell me that's what Lent is about. I wish.) Imagine how our church cultures might be different if we did some truth-and-reconciliation work.

Of course, there are also plenty of other realities that the church is ignoring. Like, you know, this one.

The situation in Syria gets sadder and sadder. It is one of my favorite places I've ever visited, so my heart aches. It's complicated, of course. Our Christian friends have some things to say too.

On an apparently completely unrelated note: the way we talk to each other matters. (not just about teenagers!) 

And this is one of the ways it matters. (warning: tissue alert)

The way we talk to ourselves, or hear ourselves talk, matters too. Ladies, you know what I mean. Stop it.

And in the HAHAHAHAHA department...

There's been a ton of discussion about why millennials are leaving the church. I still maintain that they mostly weren't there to begin with, but aside from that, THIS.

While we're at it, pay close attention to this unexpected reality.

And then, to make us all feel better....you knew the cat hadn't moved from that spot since you left the house. now there's proof.

Happy weekend reading!

Friday Five: food!!!

Over at RGBP, we've been asked to ponder food. Since this is one of my most favorite things in the entire universe to ponder, I'm all in.


1) Is there a food from a foreign land whose reputation led to trepidation when you had a chance to give it a try? Did you find the courage to sample it anyway? If so, were you pleasantly surprised or did you endorse the less than favorable reputation that preceded it?
Hmm...well, the prompt for this particular FF came from my friend Nikki, I understand, who wished to write about haggis. I will say that the reputation of haggis precedes it...and recedes from consciousness because why on earth would you eat that??? I did not eat haggis. I ate a vegetarian version that seems to bear little resemblance to the actual dish, and it wasn't very good either, though I do like all the ingredients so I'm not sure what happened there.

2) What food from your own country/culture gets a bad rap? 
Most of it, and with good reason. We in the USA are known for food that will kill us all. But there's something so delicious about fried foods on a stick...

3) Of what food are you fond that others find distasteful?
Kale! I love kale. I think it's probably my favorite non-potato vegetable. Seriously. Almost everyone I know eats kale out of obligation, or they try it once and then never again, or they only eat kale chips but not any other way. (aside: I think kale chips are gross. yes, I'm that weirdo.) I think I could probably eat kale every day, or at least several times a week...

4) Is there a country’s food, not native to you, that you go out of your way to eat?
Indian! Mexican! Middle Eastern! so....yes. :-)

5) What is your guilty pleasure food?
just one? hmmm...cinnamon toast crunch. lol.

Bonus: What was your most memorable meal (good or bad), either because of the menu, the occasion, the company, or some other circumstance that makes it stand out?
Oh my. I've had so many memorable meals! Do I write about the cheese-and-wine night where I tried desperately to convince myself and others that the cheese whose description included the word "barnyard" would get better with more bites? (that attempt failed spectacularly--it was so terrible.) Or the several zillion-course tasting menus my friends and I have enjoyed at various fancy-schmancy places? The first time I cooked rice (when I was a teenager) and doubled the rice but not the water? The night at the vegetarian restaurant in Edinburgh with a bunch of skeptical non-vegetarians who came away saying that was the place to which they'd most like to return? The vegan sushi at Sipz? A mimosa Saturday brunch that turned into strudel for dinner because that takes so freaking long to make? There are so many...

a holiday interesting

Since many of us have the day off today (though not all...in spite of the work of a generation of activists, still some people must work on holidays, to make things convenient for us or to make ends meet or to avoid never getting scheduled again)...I postponed the Wednesday Interesting until today, to make time for the perusing.

Since it's Labor Day, let's clear some things up. First, this is not a "patriotic holiday" in the usual sense of the word--I mean, it's not a day celebrating or honoring the military, veterans, or even advances or freedoms technically won by military means. It's a day that's brought to us by labor unions, who fought for reasonable working hours, days off, a living wage, child labor laws, safety in the workplace, etc. It's patriotic in the sense that without those people, our country's way of life may not be worth fighting for, but in our current political climate no one wants to think about how the reality is that without unions we may very well be one of those places where children make low-quality clothes for 8 cents an hour.

Second, many of those things the people honored on Labor Day fought for are slipping. Here are some amazing charts.

As long as we're pursuing the American Dream, though, however hazy that dream might be, here's a great list of questions people in every age group should be asking themselves, even though it's labeled for 20-somethings.

If we could pursue God's dream instead of the classic American dream for a minute, it might lead us down a path sort of like this reflection....

While we're talking about God's dream--what about God's dream for the church? There have been dozens of articles lately about why millenials are leaving the church (aside: it's because the vast majority of them weren't in church to begin with). This article about why people, in general, leave churches, is pretty well spot-on, I think. Some of the things there make me want to shout "come on over to a mainline protestant church! I promise not to tell you how to vote!" while others of them hit a little too close to home:

I think we need to just start being honest with ourselves and admit that a lot of people reject our churches because they’re too interested in Jesus to accept a counterfeit version.

Yep, that.

And, you know, because it's a holiday we probably need some lightheartedness. This is hilarious and I love it (though the underlying reality is serious...).

taught to fly--a sermon for 25 August 2013

Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
taught how to fly
Proverbs 3.1-10, Mark 4.35-41
25 August 2013, Singing Faith 12


Holy, Holy, Holy!
How Can I Keep From Singing
Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms


My child, do not forget my teaching,

but let your heart keep my commandments; 

for length of days and years of life

and abundant welfare they will give you.

Do not let loyalty and faithfulness forsake you;

 bind them round your neck,

write them on the tablet of your heart. 

So you will find favor and good repute

in the sight of God and of people.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

and do not rely on your own insight. 

In all your ways acknowledge him,

and he will make straight your paths. 

Do not be wise in your own eyes;

fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. 

It will be a healing for your flesh

and a refreshment for your body.

Honor the Lord with your substance

and with the first fruits of all your produce; 

then your barns will be filled with plenty,

and your vats will be bursting with wine.


On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’

~~~~

At the top of the bulletin today is one of my very favorite quotes: “faith is believing that one of two things will happen—that there will be something solid for you to stand on, or that you will be taught to fly.”

The idea of a leap of faith is a common one, but actual leaping is somewhat more rare. It’s not often that most of us are willing to step into the unknown darkness simply trusting that we will figure it out. And yet that’s exactly what Jesus asks us—to trust.

Trust is easier said than done, of course. Most of us have trust issues of one kind or another. We’ve been betrayed, we’ve been hurt, we’ve trusted the wrong people, we’ve been taken advantage of. We’ve been trusted beyond our capability, we’ve been the betrayer, and we’ve been the one who manipulates someone else’s trust. We talk about trust as something that must be earned or lost, that can be both a reward and a punishment.

Is this the kind of trust we have with God? In Proverbs we are encouraged to trust God with all our heart and not to rely on our own understanding. Yes, God has been faithful—providing for our every need, from family to food to freedom. The whole creation sings in praise of the one who makes rivers flow and rocks stand. We might even say God has earned our trust. But is that what we mean—that we require God to earn our trust? Can God then lose our trust too? That actually sounds suspiciously like relying on our own understanding—forcing God to meet our requirements for faith. The writer of proverbs talks about trusting God as one in a long list of things we do simply because of who God is. We are to trust, to be faithful and loyal, to acknowledge God’s presence in all places, to honor God with all our substance and all our possession. Not because God has earned this favor, but because God is God.

To our modern, independence-loving minds, this seems a bit ridiculous. Of course no one, including God, is trustworthy just because. If the rock to which we cling suddenly seems slippery, our trust falters. When God answers our prayers according to our plans, our trust grows. We read throughout scripture that God is faithful, and many of us experience God’s faithfulness every day. And, as we talked about last week, we also experience God’s seeming absence, often at the moment of deepest darkness. How can we trust a God who seems to be asleep on the pillow in the stern of the boat while the storm rages?

We can’t, of course. Not under our own power. We are able to step out, believing that there will be something solid to stand on or we will be taught to fly, only by the power of the Holy Spirit. The apostle Paul reminds us over and over that faith is a gift of the Spirit. In our weakness, the Spirit intercedes for us, praying and encouraging and breathing and giving us life where before all we had was fear. Through the Holy Spirit, we are able to trust—not because God has earned our trust, but because God has given us the gift of trust. Just as we love because God first loved us, so also we are able to trust because God has first trusted us. After all, trust is the foundation of love.

We know that a rabbi only said “Come, follow me” to students he believed could do what he did. When we hear Jesus’ voice floating down the beach, or calling across the water, or echoing across the table, what we hear is God’s trust in us, God’s belief that we can be like Jesus. We have been entrusted with the task of being the body of Christ, the task of revealing the kingdom of God, the task of continuing Christ’s work of reconciliation. We are trusted friends, co-creators with God, made in God’s image…and with that comes a gift beyond price: the gift of trust. We have not earned it, and we cannot lose it.

This is of course beyond our understanding…which is exactly the point. Our understanding is limited by our insistence on an economy of earning and losing. God’s economy of trust and love is based on gift, not on a quid-pro-quo transaction.

What would happen if we could see trust as a gift? A gift freely given to us…and that we offer to both God and to others? Is Christ’s presence in the boat is enough, even if it seems like he’s sleeping on the job? Is our call to be the body of Christ enough, even if it seems some don’t deserve it?

It’s hard work to trust. It requires a choice every day, sometimes every moment. The same is true of love—it’s a verb that insists on constant attention, or it withers away into fuzzy meaningless cliché. The Spirit gives us the ability, and God trusts us to cultivate that gift into a way of life. How do we cultivate that gift?

First by remembering God’s faithfulness—which starts with opening up the Bible and reading God’s story. It also includes practicing gratitude—looking at our lives and naming the things God has done each day. Over and over God is present and active and providing, if only we are looking!

Second, by spending time with God. The disciples may have been afraid, but at least they were in the boat with Jesus. They called out to him in their time of need, they didn’t just try to fix the problem themselves. When he answered them, they marveled, they gave thanks, they continued to pray. The leaned on the strong arms of the One who could still the storm, feed the hungry, teach the crowds, and show them God’s power.

Third, by practicing trusting others. Can we offer our trust as a gift to someone else in the body of Christ? I wonder what would happen if we trusted each other, and were trustworthy to one another, with our stories, with our hopes and dreams, with our hurts, with our observations, with our prayers? I know that within the church we are pros at loving and at hurting each other. I’m not suggesting that we forget when we forgive, that we continue in abusive relationships, or that we ignore hurtful and destructive behavior. I am suggesting that it might just be possible for us to trust the Spirit and one another enough to be kind and honest when we see that behavior. It might just be possible for us to trust the Spirit and one another enough to speak the truth with love and to move on in a new way. If God is trustworthy, and we are made in the image of God, then can we try to be the people God knows us to be, and both be trustworthy and extend the gift of trust to others?

Trust God with all your heart, and rely not on your own understanding.

Acknowledge God in all your ways, and honor God with all your being, and it will be a healing for your flesh and a refreshment for your body.

Can this be? Can it be that if we trust God, and allow the Spirit to help us trust one another, that it will be healing and refreshing, both for our individual selves and for the body of Christ? It seems as if it’s a hard road to trust—calling out in the storm, walking the lonely road with a stranger, wandering through the dark valley. And yet we are promised: there will be something solid to stand on, or we will be taught how to fly.

May it be so. Amen.

Wednesday Interesting

Happy Birthday Mom!

For your birthday, I had a frappuccino, gave some Kiva loans, and found some random interesting stuff on the interwebz....

This set of maps was going around last week, and it really is fascinating. So many different ways to see the world!

The Beloit Mindset List, which purports to tell us old people what kinds of things shaped the worldview of those young whippersnappers who are entering college right now, is out. While this year's list lacks the depth of some previous years, it's still a mildly interesting reminder of how the world changes.

This photo essay on why Trader Joe's is the best grocery store in the entire world is a lovely counterpoint to why Wegman's is the best. Since I don't have Wegman's, I can't comment on that...and therefore Trader Joe's is clearly the winner. I heart TJ's. And for all those people who are all "it's not really better for you! they're hiding stuff!"--it's called "private labeling." They take the same product you could buy at the other stores, private label it, and voila! cheaper because you're not paying for the name brand. You still have to read labels and, if you want organic, find something that says it's organic. You can't just assume that because it's Trader Joe's brand, it's better/healthier/organicer/whatever-er. It's the same stuff with a different label. It's still the best store ever.

There was some discussion around the web-o-sphere this week about the Bechdel Test--a simple test to find out if the women in a film are whole characters or only revolve around men. The test notoriously doesn't declare whether a film is actually good, whether it's feminist or not, whether it portrays women in healthy ways or not--only whether every moment revolves around men. It's a starting point. A second test was suggested to try to get people to notice how often people (particularly women) of color are one-dimensional characters whose lives artificially revolve around white people. Honestly, anything that can get people realizing just how much cultural privilege floats around unconsciously is a good thing. (and if we could somehow manage to get producers/studios/directors to actually make movies that challenged it, even better...)

I'm a word-dork. Resistentialism is a real problem at my house, especially with doors. And a fear of Jirbling is why I always wanted my colleague to pour the cup at communion…I’m more a bread-breaker. ;-)

Bookmark this page because it has videos of some of the most beautifully breathtaking moments of classical music ever. Seriously. When you need to calm down, be inspired, have a pick-me-up, take a mental health break, or whatever, just click play on one of these.

Last but not least, it's almost here!! SO CLOSE! Just a few weeks from now, you will be able to hold your very own copy of my book in your hands! You know you want to pre-order it now.

weekend interesting

so wednesday came and went...twice. sorry. But now it's Pastor's Weekend (also known as Thursday night and Friday), so it's time to contemplate the stuff I've been reading but not writing about.

For that matter, I haven't been writing about much of anything. So it's not just you, dear neglected blog. It's also neglected 25% finished Camp NaNoWriMo novel. It's also every week's prayer prompt. It's also anything that should go on LiturgyLink. Don't feel lonely, blog--you're not the only one I'm not writing for.

But I am reading like a crazy person. I have about 5 books going right now, plus all this stuff:

"All those timesthat I thought I was using my time well -- 'Hey, I've got five minutes, let mecheck my email' -- I was actually using my bandwidth badly."

Mullainathan concluded by urging the audience to think back to Henry Ford.
The automaker famously discovered in the early 1900s that, by increasing his employees' schedules to 60 hours a week, he could squeeze more productivity out of them. But that burst of productivity lasted only about four weeks. Over time, the workers putting in 60 hours a week began producing less than their counterparts who worked 40 hours.
The people working overtime lacked "not just the ability to work hard, but the ability to actually think hard about the problem," Mullainathan said.
The lesson for professionals: Having precious little time doesn't matter. Spending quality time with it does.

David LaMotte brings both the word and beautiful music,every time…  The difficulty with trying to save the world through charity, and a response about the unglamorous reality of what itwould take to change this. (this is part of why Presbyterians talk about doing mission WITH, instead of FOR. of course, that's a similarly incomplete approach.)

speaking of which: the most important word in the bible and how it changes how most people think about the Christian life: 

And then this. (Yes, lots of related stuff this week. Either the universe sends things in clumps so we get the message, or once I see something then everything else is about that...) Interestingly, this particular question has emerged--in both this form and the reverse--in a lot of the things I've been doing and thinking and conversing about lately:

If we can't talk honestly with another human being, how could we talk honestly with God? 

I love Jamie. Her blog is full of the awesome right now as she shares her experiences learning about human trafficking. She's out being the real live church. Meanwhile, she also ponders what the rest of us assume church is, and how we do it all wrong. Or all right. Or something.

This sermon from Presbyterian Youth Triennium blew up twitter while it was being preached. There have been a number of blog posts about it. I think it's fascinating and prophetic and beautiful and right on. And I think everyone in the church should know what our kids are hearing at these conferences we send them to with our bake sales and car washes.

And while we're at this whole connectedness thing, there's this, exploring Ubuntufor Nelson Mandela’s birthday (which was last week). 

And also this, from one of my favorite researchers. I wish we could be real-life friends, seriously. We obviously would be besties.

While we're on the inspirational track: Malala speaks to the UN:

“they thought the bullets would silence us. but they failed. out of the silence came thousands of voices. … Weakness, fear, and hopelessness died. Strength, power, and courage was born.”

And this! I KNEW IT! napping is not just awesome, it’s good for you. (also, check out the fabulosity that is the photo at the end of the article…)

Last but not least: this is so incredibly cool. Beautiful, moving, amazing. All improv, too. WOW.

Happy weekend!

fireflies--a sermon for 28 July 2013

Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
fireflies
John 1, Isaiah 58.6-9, Matthew 5.13-16
28 July 2013, Singing Faith 8


Shine Jesus Shine
Christ Be Our Light
(illumination: Open My Eyes)
Here I Am Lord
Siyahamba

Is not this the fast that I choose:
 to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke,
 to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 
 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
 when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
 your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard. 
 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. ‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’
~~~~~~

In Thailand there are stretches of riverbank that light up at night, like a Christmas light display synchronized with music. The lights are so bright that they can assist boatmen in navigating their way through the pitch black night. On and off tens of thousands of tiny lights flash, all in perfect unison as they play their silent rhythm. It’s a wonder of the world, one that scientists have been studying for two generations now. How is it possible that all the lights flash in unison?

The flashes come from fireflies, which usually flash individually, each in their own unique pattern. Even the synchronous fireflies in the Smoky Mountains aren’t as perfect as these—it’s as perfect as a Christmas display in the movies. There’s no one firefly keeping time or sending out signals that tell the other thousands of fireflies what to do—they just do it, and the result is enough intermittent light to navigate a winding river. It’s amazing to us, but it’s just how the fireflies are made—to light up the night together.*

And Jesus said: you are the light of the world.

That’s it. No written music, no conductor telling us when and where to shine, just: you are the light of the world.

It’s almost as if he’s saying: this is who you’re made to be and what you’re made to do, so…just do it.

For some reason this is much easier said than done.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s hard because we’ve gotten it in our heads that it’s this little light of MINE, and I have to let it shine. It’s a lot of pressure to create light out of nothing, or out of our interior life, and shine it into the immense darkness of the world. It feels almost pointless. Especially once we start pondering just what it means to let our light shine anyway. A couple of weeks ago when I asked this question, there was a lot of uncomfortable silence—none of us are really sure what it means to let my light shine in everyday life. How do I generate my light and shine it at work, at school, on the morning commute, at the dinner table?

Isaiah gives us some pointers—when we do justice, when we feed the hungry and free the captive and house the homeless, even at cost to ourselves, our light will break forth like the dawn. Not just when we pray for the hungry, but when we share our own food with them. Not just when we donate to a group that helps the homeless, but when we bring them into our house. Not just when we group people together and call them “the hungry” and “the homeless” and “the sick”—as if people can be defined by a circumstance—but when we recognize them as us, our kin, our family, fellow children of God worthy of love and hope and dignity and food and shelter and healthcare and meaningful work. When we erase the boundaries and all people are loved, not just with feelings but with actions, then, Isaiah says, our light will be as bright as the noon sun, and we will find that God is right by our side.

And Jesus says: let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to God. Not to give glory to us, who do all this hard work generating light for the world, but to God.

Which is our clue, our reminder: this isn’t about me letting my little light shine at all. This is about the true light of the world, that is the life of all people, the word of light that broke the first darkness, shining through me into the world. It’s not my light, it’s not your light—Christ is the light of the world, and we are the image, the reflection of God’s glory. We’re the lens that enables the light to be seen far and wide. When we sing our prayer for Christ to be our light, we’re not prompting him as though he forgot to flip the switch—we’re asking for help in being a mirror rather than a bushel basket covering the light.

So take a deep breath and relax a little bit—you don’t have to create the light! It’s not your light to shine. It’s a matter of letting Christ shine in you, rather than being a covering that keeps the light from doing its thing. That does make it seem a bit easier to contemplate all those big things Isaiah says, and all those big things we sing about—becoming shelter and bread and hope, being sent to a world in need of healing and a good word. We don’t have to make ourselves—we are already fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God, ready to reflect God’s glory to others. Or, as Marianne Williamson puts it, “We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.”

Everyone. born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. We’re created to shine, not to cover up the light.

and Jesus said: you are the light of the world.

Not you singular, but you plural.

And Paul wrote: Now you are the body of Christ.

Not you singular, but you plural.

We’re created to shine—together. Not just as individuals, but as the body of Christ. One firefly is fun and pretty…and unpredictable, and grows dim if he continues to be the only one. Ten thousand fireflies all shining their lights in unison can illuminate the darkness like nothing we’ve ever seen.

In the words of the hymn: shine, Lord, in your church gathered today. What would happen if the body of Christ could get so in sync that we could shine God’s light into the world in unison? If we were all pursuing the same goal at the same time—say, doing justice, loving kindness, walking humbly with God. Breaking down barriers and building up the kingdom of God with every meal shared with a neighbor, every conversation with someone on the opposite side of an issue. Loving people and speaking peace through the storms of life as well as we celebrate the joys. Being a kingdom force for grace and positive change in our world. Of course, that would require that we as a body spend time discerning just who we are in this place and time, and what God calls us to do here on this corner of Palatine. It takes work to get to the point of all working toward the same goal. But imagine: if we were all sharing the same good news that God is love, that grace abounds…maybe our lights could shine together, rather than one at a time, and we might just find that the light could illuminate the darkness like nothing we’ve ever seen. It would be amazing to behold, but we would just be like the fireflies, doing what we were made to do.

Marianne Williamson continues, “as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” This is exactly what scientists think happens with the fireflies—one wakes up, then others around it join in, and more and more join in until everyone’s rhythm is so perfectly synchronized that you can’t tell where it began. It’s not that there’s a leader as much as that there was one firefly willing to get the ball rolling, and pretty soon everyone had permission to let the light shine.

The light’s not just in some of us, it’s in all of us, planted there by the One who created light and called us to live as children of light. We were born to let it shine. So when God calls, asking for someone to throw off the bushel basket and let the light of God’s kingdom shine through acts of justice and mercy and love, who will answer? Will we step up and say “Here I am?” Or maybe even better: here we are?

You are the light of the world. Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and give glory to your father in heaven.

May it be so. Amen.


*heard on the RadioLab episode “Emergence” and confirmed by http://www.nytimes.com/1991/08/13/science/a-mystery-of-nature-mangroves-full-of-fireflies-blinking-in-unison.html?src=pm