An Urgent Need for Community -- a sermon on the first passover (Exodus 12 & 13)

Rev. Teri Peterson

Gourock St. John’s

An Urgent Need for Community

Exodus 12.1-13, 13.1-8 (NRSV)

4 October 2020, NL3-4, Becoming God’s People 4

Last week we heard the story of Joseph and his brothers and how the family of the Israelites ended up in Egypt. They grew and were prosperous and safe there…until a new king rose over Egypt, who did not remember Joseph and his leadership in the previous crisis, or how these foreign people came to have such an integral place within the nation. That pharaoh began to imagine that the Israelites were dangerous, and so shifted the policy and the culture of Egypt until the Israelites ended up oppressed and enslaved, and the Egyptians were commanded to throw the Israelite children into the Nile to die. As a baby, Moses was drawn out of the Nile by Pharaoh’s daughter, and brought up as her own. After an altercation that ended with him killing an Egyptian taskmaster, he fled into the desert, where he married and looked after the flocks of his father-in-law. God met him out in the desert, in a bush that was aflame yet not burned up, and called him to go back to Egypt to set his people free. Moses and his brother Aaron had a number of conversations with Pharaoh in which Pharaoh refused, and so God began to send plagues on Egypt. We pick up the story in between the ninth and tenth plagues, on the eve of the Israelites’ escape from Egypt, in the book of Exodus, chapter 12, verses 1-13, and then continuing at chapter 13, verses 1-8. I am reading from the New Revised Standard Version.

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household. If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbour in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it. Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.

And continuing in chapter 13: 

The Lord said to Moses: Consecrate to me all the firstborn; whatever is the first to open the womb among the Israelites, of human beings and animals, is mine.

Moses said to the people, “Remember this day on which you came out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, because the Lord brought you out from there by strength of hand; no leavened bread shall be eaten. Today, in the month of Abib, you are going out. When the Lord brings you into the land of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, which he swore to your ancestors to give you, a land flowing with milk and honey, you shall keep this observance in this month. Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, and on the seventh day there shall be a festival to the Lord. Unleavened bread shall be eaten for seven days; no leavened bread shall be seen in your possession, and no leaven shall be seen among you in all your territory. You shall tell your child on that day, ‘It is because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.’

Over the past 450 years, some things had changed. When Joseph’s family arrived in Egypt, they were welcomed, they settled in the fertile land of the Nile Delta, they raised their families and got on with life. Over time, though, things started to change. Slowly at first…a slight shift here, a minor move there. And most people don’t pay much attention to politics, as they’re focused on their farms and families. Eventually, though, the culture and economy and politics had moved so far to one side that it started to be a little concerning…but what can you do? We learned to live with it, because it is what it is, after all. You can get used to just about anything, adjust and adapt…and that’s true on both sides of the story. The people who were being oppressed found ways to cope, and the people doing the oppressing found ways to justify it. By the time we get to enslaving the neighbours and attempting genocide, we’re like the proverbial frog in the pot of water. We’ve gotten so used to the way things are, that even a series of disasters just starts to feel like another headline in the endless news cycle. What can we do, but lament that things aren’t like they used to be, and then turn our attention back to the work right in front of us, hoping someone, somewhere, will do something about that bigger issue before it gets any worse?

We may recognise that sense of dejected apathy or complacency…and that moment is the one where God broke in and said “something new is about to happen, and it’ll be so big you’ll literally need a new calendar. It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen. Get ready. Put on your shoes, pack your bags, grab the keys, throw the dough on the fire without waiting for it to proof, you don’t even have time to boil water for soup, just roast the lamb whole…honestly, hurry up, people!”

I wonder if the Israelites understood the urgency of the situation, or if they thought “but we’ve been living with this for ages, what’s the rush?” After all, when God commands this ritual, they don’t yet know that they are going to be leaving Egypt that night — it isn’t until after all the instructions are given that they find out that the tenth plague is coming, and even then, God doesn’t say they’re going to be running for their lives and heading for the sea and the desert on the other side, only that there will be deaths among the Egyptians. So why did they need to hurry? They were used to this.

If we are able to recognise ourselves and our current situation in this biblical story, then what is it that might be this urgent now? We’ve gotten used to the political atmosphere and believing we can’t do much about it, we’ve decided to just cope with an economic system that destroys the environment and privileges a very few while the rest are expendable, and we have become complacent about a culture that is more about us-and-them divisions than about welcome and inclusion and wholeness. Every time we adapt without pushing back on a move that shifts those things even more to one side — whether it’s floating the idea of creating a migrant-processing island; or closing the ICU at the hospital in the most deprived area of the country; or letting some people get away with breaking the law or lying even though they put others at risk; or both companies and governments greenwashing their policies while still spending money on fossil fuels behind the scenes — we are making it even harder to see the urgency of God’s call to a new thing. 

The Israelites may not have understood what the big rush was, any more than we do most of the time. But the ritual that God commanded them to do was designed to help them get ready for the big changes that were coming. 

It may seem on the surface like having a particular evening meal cooked in a particular way and while sitting in a particular position wouldn’t make much difference. But the reality is that when they participated in this religious ritual, it prepared their minds and hearts for what God was doing next. Choosing a lamb and looking after it for a few days to be sure it was perfect meant that their attention would be focused and their sense of personal investment would be heightened. Smearing the blood on the doorposts meant that they were declaring their membership as part of this family of faith, and their trust that God was in their midst that night. Knowing that the entire community was preparing the same meal on the same night meant that their sense of community spirit and togetherness would increase. Cooking and eating in a hurry, with their shoes and coats on and their bags in their hands, meant that they had that adrenaline rush of excitement and nerves that they were living through history being changed.

And they were. This moment in history, when the Israelites left Egypt, will be the moment that God uses to define Godself from now on. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt” will be the way God speaks and is described throughout the rest of history, so it isn’t only the people who are being told that this is the first month, the beginning of a new calendar and new sense of time — that’s true for God too. This is the defining moment for God and for God’s people. It is so important that they’re told, as we heard, to be careful to remember, so they can observe these traditions and tell the stories to the next generation, so that hopefully they too will remember the urgency of God’s liberating love.

So what’s urgent now? And how might God be calling us to get ready for a new thing, even though we don’t understand it yet? What spiritual practices would help us to get ready? 

There can be a lot of different answers to that, of course. Though there is one little line in today's reading that I think might be a word for us today. It’s a line that’s easy to gloss over, but in our current environment it speaks volumes. In chapter 12 verse 4, it says “If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbour in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it.” In other words, no one is to be left out of this ritual preparation for God’s new thing. The entire community is to ensure that every single household can participate. No family is too small or too poor to be included, and it is the responsibility of the larger or wealthier family to divide up their lamb to include their neighbours. 

Now, this would require actually knowing our neighbours, both who they are and how they are. It would require taking initiative to reach out and offer. It would require every single one of us noticing each other and taking every step to ensure that everyone is included and welcomed. Even though this first passover was celebrated with every family in their own homes, the whole community worked together to make certain that no one was left out or went without. And even though the command was urgent and hurried, they were still to make time to care for everyone.

In a world that is fractured and fearful and often complacent about the precipice on which we stand, we have an urgent need for community. More than ever it is crucial to bring people together, regardless of their status or their ability to buy in. Every single person in the community is important and we do not get to simply overlook God’s command to include them and care for them, no matter how inconvenient or expensive it might be for us — and that should be reflected in our political, economic, cultural, and relational decisions. Ultimately, it will be all of us together that participate in this ritual meal, and all of us together that walk through the red sea, and all of us together that will walk in the wilderness, all of us together that make up the Body of Christ…it takes all of us together to become God’s people.

May it be so. Amen.

18 days of my 30s

 On the 18th day before I turn 40...

my brother is getting married today and because of covid restrictions, I can't be there. 

Perhaps the worst lesson of my 30s is "life in a global pandemic."

(ok, fine, there are some good lessons from this time too, but...honestly the overriding feeling today is not of good lessons, but sadness that I'm going to watch my brother's wedding on FB live because travel isn't possible.)

I'm sure there's a poem for this, but I don't want there to be.

counting down...19 more days!

I know some people learn this much earlier than I did.

And some much later....or never.

But it is true whenever it sinks in:

When you don't have anything to say, it's better to keep your mouth shut.

(a slight variation on "if you don't have anything nice to say"....because it applies to all sorts of situations!)

When I was 25 and being examined for ordination by a presbytery committee, an elder on the search committee at RCLPC (who drove me to said examination) reminded me how to answer questions. He took a pen out of his pocket and asked, "do you know what this is?" and I said, "yes." 

(Lesson: Always just answer the question you're asked, not the one you're not!)

In the coming years of ministry I would learn that lesson applies to things other than questions. It applies to preaching...and writing...and pastoral care...and session meetings...and, for the love of God, Presbytery/General Assembly meetings! if you don't have anything to add to what has already been said, keep your mouth closed. 

It applies to blogging too. And today....well....I will put it into practice. 😂

20 days of my 30s...

Just to right-size expectations at the outset: I can't be a good writer every day. To paraphrase Anne Lamott...it matters more to sit down and do the writing.

Today's poem is one that has resonated for a lot of women over the years -- after so long being told no, the idea that maybe God has a broader vision for us than the circumscribed life offered to us just feels...right. 

God Says Yes To Me

Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic

and she said yes

I asked her if it was okay to be short

and she said it sure is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish

or not wear nail polish

and she said honey

she calls me that sometimes

she said you can do just exactly

what you want to 

Thanks God I said

And is it even okay if I don’t paragraph

my letters

Sweetcakes God said

who knows where she picked that up

what I’m telling you is

Yes Yes Yes

I have to admit that all the things mentioned in this poem are a part of my life: melodramatic? check. short? check. sometimes with nail polish and sometimes without? check. don't paragraph!??!?!? check.

But I'm also going to apply this poem to something it was never intended for. And which is, at least on the surface, far more frivolous:

I was in my 30s when I learned (from my fabulous aunt) that YOU CAN MAKE RISOTTO IN A PRESSURE COOKER. And it takes 7 minutes. Seven minutes!!!! No stirring! Just beautiful delicious creamy happiness, less than ten minutes after you put the lid on. 

And even better than that (and this is where the misapplication of the poem comes in), you can literally put anything in a risotto. Whatever is in your fridge or pantry will probably make a delicious risotto. I have made pizza risotto, enchilada risotto, last-things-in-the-fridge-before-vacation risotto... 

And sure, purists might claim it isn't really risotto. Maybe they think it's a casserole or a one pot rice dish. But you know what? I asked God if it was okay to make enchilada risotto and God said Yes Yes Yes! Why wouldn't you want something delicious like that?

Sure, the vast majority of the time I end up with mushroom, or sometimes mushroom and leek...sometimes I add greens, or broccoli. But other times I go wild with "toppings" that probably no Italian would ever stir in...and honestly, they don't know what they're missing. 

This lesson from my aunt is probably the most life changing thing, on a practical level. Because now I eat risotto every week, instead of just when I go to a restaurant. And I can turn anything in the kitchen into dinner in 10 minutes. So that's a pretty great thing to carry forward into the rest of my life!

this week I had a carrot and half a head of broccoli languishing a bit....
into the risotto they went.
I added some fresh tomatoes on top to up my 5-a-day quotient, lol.
I made and ate this, and cleaned up, and made a cup of tea to relax a bit,
in the 55 minutes I had between Zoom meetings yesterday.

21 more days!

 Just three weeks to go until, according to the PCUSA and the Young Clergy Women and any number of other organisations that care about such things, I am no longer young.

I used to wonder at what point I got to be a real adult. Just a normal adult. Because the church has programs and staff and resources for "young adults" and "older adults" and honestly it seemed for a long time like the gap in between was getting smaller and smaller.....mainly because our definition of "young" kept creeping up. It used to be 30, then 35, then 40...I'll leave you to figure out why we would need to still be considering 39 year olds who have been in their careers (or their calls, or parenting, or whatever) for nearly 20 years "young."

I have been looking forward to my 40s for a long time, in a way. Though perhaps what I mean is that I've been looking forward to not being considered a "young adult" for a long time. The way we continue to infantilise people (especially women, and especially women without partners or children) who own houses, have jobs, hold positions of power in communities, etc, is so frustrating. I think much of it has to do with white Western culture's fear of growing old. So people say things like "60 is the new 30"...well, you know what? I've said this before and I'll say it again: I hope not. Let's make 60 the new 60, and 40 the new 40. We are living through new times, so why not also live our age in a new way? Just because we reach a number doesn't mean we have to do what previous generations did at that number. 

As a case in point: every firstborn in my family has given birth to their firstborn by age 23. This goes back for....a few generations at least. 

I am a firstborn.

As you might have realised, I have not followed this particular trend in my family system.

In fact, I realised a couple of years ago that I left home -- as in, permanently moved 2,000 miles away -- just two weeks after my mother turned 40. Talk about a terrifying thought as my birthday approaches.

Anyway, even though my 23rd birthday came and went with no children and no husband and even though I had family members saying weird things that they probably didn't even realise were related to that, it wasn't until I was well into my 30s that I realised just how HAPPY I can be as a single woman. I've had relationships, yes, including long term and serious ones, ones I thought would be forever but didn't turn out that way, for good and less-good reasons. But now, and really for at least the last....6 or so years?...I've learned how to be ME. To live alone and love it. To travel alone and love it. To use my resources differently and to bless different people than I would be able to do otherwise. 

Sure, there are things I don't love about being single. Mainly, though, it's about housework. I don't love washing up after cooking, or unloading the dishwasher, or putting away laundry. I don't love that if I get sick, there's no one to help. (especially right now, when there's an illness going around that is more terrifying for single people than those I've encountered before, because of how quickly it can change into something very serious, especially at night.) That tells me I wish for staff, not a partner.

For a few years, the worst thing about being single was feeling like I was no one's priority. Like all my friends and family had people who were their number 1, who topped the list of people they thought about, worried about, etc, and there was no one who would put me on their list of priorities. And rightfully so, because they had partners and children and ageing parents, etc. It was hard work with my therapist to overcome that feeling and to build friendships where I could feel like I mattered in that way to someone else. Because you know what? It's okay to ask for people to treat you like you matter to them. And not every person who is a priority for us is related to us, and that is good and healthy.

The poem I want to share today is on a similar theme, sort of. At least of the idea of being a whole person by myself, and still being important in myself, though the author's experience is very different from mine in many ways. It's called "Today, God" by Starr Davis. I won't reproduce it here, for copyright reasons, but you should 100% click through and listen to the author read the poem!! 

I am liberated and focused today

on what it means to govern myself.

Among my biggest issues being single now: no one to help me eat the dessert.

22 days to 40...sometimes what we want doesn't exist

I went looking for a poem that matched my thoughts for today, but could not find one. I even tried googling "poems for when other words aren't quite right" (and variations on that theme) but while I came across many lovely poems, none were what I wanted.

But of course, what we want doesn't always exist.

I want to pretend that is a lesson I don't have to keep learning over and over, but honestly....no matter how many times I have learned it in the past 40 years, I keep stumbling over the fact that sometimes what I want does not exist. Given that Ecclesiastes says there is nothing new under the sun, I am constantly surprised when I run up against this limitation of the universe. How can it be that in 2020, the thing I want for today is not readily available? (#firstworldproblems)

When Amy and I were in the earliest stages of writing a book, this was actually one of the reasons we decided to do it: because the book we wanted to read and teach from and recommend to friends did not exist. So we worked to bring it into existence. (earlier this month it was in my Facebook memories, in fact, that I held that book in my hands for the first time in September 7 years ago!)

I am no poet, so I will not be bringing a poem into existence to meet this day's needs.

However.

I will note that sometimes....perhaps oftentimes?...when we are longing for something that does not exist, that is a nudge from the Spirit about our calling. Because we live in this place and time in between the vision of God and its realisation, and sometimes it's our creating that brings the kingdom a little more into existence. 

Maybe through poetry. maybe through compassion. maybe through big acts of justice. maybe through writing a book or building a new community or lobbying our government or whatever it is...

it might be yours to do.

or mine.

or ours, together.

photo from the very first time I held the book...on a train, thanks to Anita!

23 days until I'm out of my 30s...

 "What else could they mean?"

This is a question I have learned to ask myself, upon the realisation that honestly, most things are not about me, even if they feel like they are.

When the story I tell myself (thanks Brene Brown for that language) heads down a road of taking things too personally, I now stop to wonder what else someone could mean by what they said. Even if it's outlandish, I try to come up with at least two alternative theories that might explain someone's words or actions, and then I try them all on before deciding that it really was commentary about me/my work/etc. Sometimes, of course, it was meant to be taken personally. But sometimes (most of the time) it really isn't about me at all. 

It's probably been about 5 years since I started asking myself this question and it might be one of the best things I've ever learned for my mental health (right up there with the importance of exercise!).

Feel free to ask it yourself too. So useful!

As Mary Oliver says: there are many ways to perish, or to flourish...one way to perish is to believe everything is about me. And one way, for me anyway, to flourish, is to ask myself what else they could mean -- because not only does that remind me not everything is about me, it also allows me to be more empathetic, to imagine what else is going on with someone and to look through their perspective for a bit, and to perhaps see a new way. 

This is Mary Oliver's poem "Evidence (2)"

There are many way to perish, or to flourish.

How old pain, for example, can stall us at the

threshold of function.

Memory: a golden bowl, or a basement without light.

For which reason the nightmare comes with its

painful story and says: you need to know this.

Some memories I would give anything to forget.

Others I would not give up upon the point of

death, they are the bright hawks of my life.

Still, friends, consider stone, that is without

the fret of gravity, and water that is without

anxiety.

And the pine trees that never forget their

recipe for renewal.

And the female wood duck who is looking this way

and that way for her children.  And the snapping

turtle who is looking this way and that way also.

This is the world.

And consider, always, every day, the determination 

of the grass to grow despite the unending obstacles.

this is a few blocks from my house, and I see it often when out walking. 

Love Them With God's Love -- a sermon on Joseph and his brothers

Rev. Teri Peterson

Gourock St John’s / Greenock St Margaret’s

Love Them With God’s Love

Genesis 37.1-8, 17b-36, 5.15-21

27 September 2020, NL3-3, Becoming God’s People 3

Since we heard about God’s promise to Abraham last week, both Hagar and Sarah bore sons to him, and each was promised to become a great nation — Ishmael and Isaac. The story of the Bible continues through the lineage of Isaac, who married Rebekah and became the father of Jacob and Esau. Jacob has been both a trickster and a dreamer all his life. With a pot of soup, he bought his brother’s birthright, and later he tricked their father out of Esau’s blessing. When running away for his life, he dreamt of angels coming and going from earth on a ladder. After marrying both Leah and Rachel, he and Esau eventually reconciled, and Jacob dreamt again, of wrestling with God and coming out the other side with a blessing and a new name: Israel. Jacob had four wives, and twelve sons. The youngest two sons were the only children borne by Rachel, who had always been Jacob’s favourite and truest love. We pick up the story today in Genesis chapter 37, reading verses 1-8 and 17-36, and then skipping to the end of the brothers' story in chapter 50, verses 15-21. I am reading from the New Revised Standard Version.

37 Jacob settled in the land where his father had lived as an alien, the land of Canaan. ² This is the story of the family of Jacob.

Joseph, being seventeen years old, was shepherding the flock with his brothers; he was a helper to the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his father’s wives; and Joseph brought a bad report of them to their father. ³ Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his children, because he was the son of his old age; and he had made him a long robe with sleeves. ⁴ But when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than all his brothers, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.

⁵ Once Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him even more. ⁶ He said to them, ‘Listen to this dream that I dreamed. ⁷ There we were, binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright; then your sheaves gathered around it, and bowed down to my sheaf.’ ⁸ His brothers said to him, ‘Are you indeed to reign over us? Are you indeed to have dominion over us?’ So they hated him even more because of his dreams and his words.

(his brothers were pasturing the flock….)

^17b Joseph went after his brothers, and found them at Dothan. ¹⁸ They saw him from a distance, and before he came near to them, they conspired to kill him. ¹⁹ They said to one another, ‘Here comes this dreamer. ²⁰ Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild animal has devoured him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams.’ ²¹ But when Reuben heard it, he delivered him out of their hands, saying, ‘Let us not take his life.’ ²² Reuben said to them, ‘Shed no blood; throw him into this pit here in the wilderness, but lay no hand on him’—that he might rescue him out of their hand and restore him to his father. ²³ So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore; ²⁴ and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.

²⁵ Then they sat down to eat; and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt. ²⁶ Then Judah said to his brothers, ‘What profit is there if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? ²⁷ Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.’ And his brothers agreed. ²⁸ When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.

²⁹ When Reuben returned to the pit and saw that Joseph was not in the pit, he tore his clothes. ³⁰ He returned to his brothers, and said, ‘The boy is gone; and I, where can I turn?’ ³¹ Then they took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat, and dipped the robe in the blood. ³² They had the long robe with sleeves taken to their father, and they said, ‘This we have found; see now whether it is your son’s robe or not.’ ³³ He recognised it, and said, ‘It is my son’s robe! A wild animal has devoured him; Joseph is without doubt torn to pieces.’ ³⁴ Then Jacob tore his garments, and put sackcloth on his loins, and mourned for his son for many days. ³⁵ All his sons and all his daughters sought to comfort him; but he refused to be comforted, and said, ‘No, I shall go down to Sheol to my son, mourning.’ Thus his father bewailed him. ³⁶ Meanwhile the Midianites had sold him in Egypt to Potiphar, one of Pharaoh’s officials, the captain of the guard.

50¹⁵ Realising that their father was dead, Joseph’s brothers said, ‘What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back in full for all the wrong that we did to him?’ ¹⁶ So they approached Joseph, saying, ‘Your father gave this instruction before he died, ¹⁷ “Say to Joseph: I beg you, forgive the crime of your brothers and the wrong they did in harming you.” Now therefore please forgive the crime of the servants of the God of your father.’ Joseph wept when they spoke to him. ¹⁸ Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, ‘We are here as your slaves.’ ¹⁹ But Joseph said to them, ‘Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? ²⁰ Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today. ²¹ So have no fear; I myself will provide for you and your little ones.’ In this way he reassured them, speaking kindly to them.

Family relationships can be so complicated, can’t they?

I think it would be something of an understatement to say that Jacob’s large family was a bit on the dysfunctional side. Jacob had first been tricked into marrying Leah when he really wanted to marry Rachel, and then throughout their lives both Leah and Rachel gave their enslaved servants to him as wives too — this, like the other human trafficking in this story, will need to be a sermon for another day. Jacob ended up with four wives and twelve sons, plus at least one daughter, but he really loved one wife and her two children the most, and everyone knew it.

That kind of favouritism was bound to create problems on top of the usual dynamics that come with younger children. As an oldest child myself, I understand the impulse to wish away a younger sibling now and then, but I can’t quite get my mind around the idea of trying to kill him or sell him into slavery — that is a whole other level of sibling rivalry than even our intense teenage fighting was!

Reading this story reminds me of a phrase that my supervising minister used to use, back when I was training for ministry 17 years ago. Whenever something frustrating would happen, she would say: “remember your job is to love them with God’s love.” The idea is that even if I didn’t feel particularly loving toward someone at the moment, or maybe even if I disliked them!, they still deserved and needed to be loved, so I ought to see myself as a conduit of God’s love, even if my own love wasn’t available. That way, I would behave toward them in a loving way, regardless of my own feelings.

This is true for all Christians, not just ministers. Jesus said that the greatest commandment is to love God and to love our neighbour…which doesn’t mean that we are always going to like people! Love is not so much a feeling as it is an action. To behave with love does not actually require that we emotionally love in the moment, though that may well follow. 

One of the ways that we can act with love, even if we don’t yet feel it, is to practice empathy, by trying to see from the perspective of the other person, or what we sometimes call walking a mile in their shoes. Empathy is something that gets talked about a lot but not practiced much, I think, perhaps because we confuse it with sympathy, perhaps because of a lack of imagination, or perhaps because it is too painful for us to imagine ourselves in a less-privileged position than we enjoy. But let’s imagine what empathy might have looked like in this story.

What if Jacob had been able to see from the perspective of his three not-favourite wives, or his ten not-favourite children? Would he have then been able to feel their grief at not being loved? Their anger at being passed over even though tradition said they should receive more? Their worry about the future? 

What if Joseph had walked a bit in his brothers’ shoes? Would he have seen the sadness that had replaced the playfulness of his childhood? Or how tired they were from keeping the flocks and herds, all while knowing that they may well be displaced out of their inheritance? Would he have seen how they wished for their father’s approval, or for even a day with a long tunic that marked them as being above manual labour?

What if the elder brothers had taken a moment to look through Joseph’s eyes — and seen his frustration at being coddled like a baby even when at 17 he ought to have had a bigger role in the family business? After all, the word that we translate as “long robe with sleeves” or that the musical translates as “coat of many colours” actually literally means “the dress of an unmarried royal princess.” Would the brothers have recognised that Joseph perhaps wanted to outgrow his princess dress, and his dreams reflect his longing to take his place among the family? Would they have sensed if he had discomfort with his father’s favouritism, or maybe his desire to prove himself to them, the big brothers he looked up to, hoping for their approval and to be seen as an equal?

It can be hard to look through someone else’s perspective, to walk a mile in their shoes. But when we do, our behaviour changes. We may still feel angry or sad or disappointed, but we are far more likely to have compassion and to be able to act with love. And when we act with love, we are more likely to grow into feeling it. This is what it means to love with God’s love — to act like the person is deserving of love, because they are.

This is a major part of growing as God’s people: learning to love with God’s love, to behave in loving ways even if we don’t feel it. That choice to act in love may help avoid some of the broken relationships that are so common, and it can even help heal some of the brokenness we live with now, both on a personal level and a societal level. As Cornel West said, “justice is what love looks like in public.” It isn’t a miracle cure, but it is a good start.

At the end of the story, when Joseph was in the position of power he once dreamed about, and their father had died, the brothers were still caught in the old ways. Their fear that Joseph may still be harbouring a grudge led them to yet another act of deceit, on top of all the others. But this time Joseph had learned a few things. He recognised their fear and their sadness, and chose to look past that and show them love anyway. Whether he felt brotherly love for them in the moment or not, he chose to act like it. Joseph took the moment to see from their perspective, and then offered his brothers forgiveness and reassurance and kindness, which is all they had really wanted all these years anyway. 

Interestingly, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that this is the first time in the Bible that forgiveness is ever mentioned. It took the entire book of Genesis for people to learn forgiveness…and after this, it’s something both God and people do. But he writes that humans learning to offer forgiveness to one another is what then brought God’s forgiveness into the story — sort of like how Jesus taught us to pray “forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.” Perhaps it is in learning to love with God’s love that we are most likely to experience love ourselves. I know that it can lead to feeling love for others…but maybe it’s also a conduit toward feeling God’s love for us, too. When we act with love, we become more like the God in whose image we are made — the God who is love. 

May it be so. Amen.

24 days left in my 30's, and...

 ...I was today years old when I learned how much sugar is too much in one sitting.

I used to wonder why people described some desserts as "too rich to eat more than a few bites." Well, today, age 39, 11 months, and 6 days, I officially reached the age where I understand.

Because I have eaten so much sugar in one sitting tonight, I cannot focus on poetry. 🤣

But also because I'm sure you're wondering what on earth I can have eaten: it was a skillet butterscotch blondie. The recipe was for two (enormous) pieces.......I may have eaten more than one but less than the whole thing, and I now believe that honestly it's probably four servings, not two despite what the title of the recipe said. And for the past three hours I've been feeling alternately a little gross and super tired like a child crashing half an hour after the crazy birthday party.

So apparently my forties will be the decade in which I moderate my dessert eating to something more reasonable....or at least spread it out over more meals during the day instead of scarfing it all down at nighttime! 

I'll be back tomorrow with poetry and reasonable lessons that I really should have learned earlier in my life. LOL.

on the 25th-to-last day of my 30s....

 ...I walked 8 miles with a friend, delivering the print version of the Sunday service to those without internet, soaking up the sun even in the cold wind, and getting some exercise in too.

My 30s are when I learned that I really need exercise more than I thought I did. there was a brief period in my 20s when I had a gym membership and a personal trainer, but honestly I just didn't last long (a year maybe?). It was only later when I realised the difference that exercise makes to my mental health. And also when I re-learned to love running. I ran a bit in college but of course I had the Chicago lakefront to run along, so who wouldn't enjoy that? Living in suburbia, running was a different story. I mostly ran in the neighbourhood, and rarely longer than a few miles, and I used to say that I loved "having run" far more than I loved "running." I liked the feeling I had afterward, but the during it was....a bit of a slog.

When I was about to turn 35 my friend Julia decided to come visit and run a half marathon while she was there, and I decided I could probably do that...more to prove to myself that my body *could* do it than anything else. It turned out to be amazing -- the training was great for getting into a routine, and the race itself was gorgeous, and I was hooked. I ran another race in Edinburgh the following year, and then when I was injured I missed it more than I thought possible. Now I'm only running short distances again, and more sporadically than I would like, but my exercise routine is still daily in a way it never was before...and if I miss a day, I notice it. I can feel how important it is to my brain as well as my body. 

I never in a million years thought I'd be the girl who needs to work out every day, but there you have it...I'm a healthier person for it. :-) though I am the SLOWEST runner ever, I actually do love it...though in many ways I think I would still say what I like most is Having Run, because I really do it for the mood-boosting/mind-clearing effect more than anything else.

I thought I'd look for a poem by a runner and the first half 100% sums up the experience I have, hahaha. (the second half in many ways captures the experience of getting older, actually, though she does so from her lens as a mother).

Here is the first half of Rachel Zucker's poem "wish you were here you are":

time isn’t the same for everyone there is

science behind this when you fly into space

you’re not experiencing time at the same rate

as someone tethered to Earth & someone

moving quickly experiences time at a slower rate

even on Earth so as I run through Central Park

at a speed not much faster than walking but slightly

I am shattering fields of time around me

& experiencing time differently from those I pass

I can attest to the fact that 'someone moving quickly experiences time at a slower rate' because honestly sometimes that is exactly what running feels like....especially on the way home when the weather is less than ideal!

maybe next year again...

26 days of my 30s

Today my usual morning workout was disrupted because the website for the current class I'm doing was down. That meant that instead of whatever was on the calendar for today, I did a quick from-memory run through of a previous workout instead.

As I was doing it, I was thinking about how much effort I put in over the past decade to disentangle exercise from food. I definitely used to think of exercise as a way to "earn" some sort of right to eat what I wanted. And that, my friends, is not healthy. All those programmes that involve earning more calories through exercise so that you can eat more....that's a terrible mental/emotional relationship with both exercise and food.

Learning that exercise is a good and desirable thing in itself, and that how I choose to eat is separate from that (though still needs care along with enjoyment!), is, if I'm 100% honest, still a work in progress. But I have come such a long way that I have hope that maybe by the time I turn forty in 26 days, I'll have it all worked out. 😂

Today's poem has literally nothing whatsoever to do with this, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. It's about that turn of the season toward 40...and though I have no intention of dying my hair (too lazy), I do intend to live on in a blaze of glory, LOL. 

This is "Pushing Forty" by Scottish author Alison Fell...whose birthday must also be in the autumn, as she perfectly captures the way things are at this time of year and this time of life.

Just before winter

we see the trees show

their true colours:

the mad yellow of chestnuts

two maples like blood sisters

the orange beech

braver than lipstick

Pushing forty, we vow

that when the time comes

rather than wither

ladylike and white

we will henna our hair

like Colette, we too

will be gold and red

and go out

in a last wild blaze

not my dinner today, but so delicious I am happy just remembering it from a few weeks ago! I'm so happy I learned to make my own pizza.

on the 27th day before my birthday....

 I was reminded that it's okay to go to sleep sometimes, and wake up and try again tomorrow.

I do not have the seemingly boundless energy people used to think I had (whether I ever had it is a secret I plan to keep!), and it is okay to rest.

Convincing myself that I won't miss anything, that there is no secret rule of the universe saying I have to stay awake until a certain time or risk being "uncool," or whatever other nonsense has kept me from my bed for years, took a long time.

Ok...truth be told, this might be a lesson I am still learning even in the last few days of my 30s. But today I am going to live into it.

This poem that my friend Elsa shared with me the other day feels like just the one I need today...because tonight, I need to be allowed to learn to love my need for rest, though it often feels like an uncertain new world to need more of that than I perhaps did before. And so it is. :-)

28 days until I'm not in my 30s anymore

28 days....4 weeks! So exciting. I love my birthday. Actually, let's be real: I love everyone's birthdays. I love the chance to celebrate. And the thought of turning over a new chapter and having new experiences...that's my jam. I'm all about all these things. #enneagram7 (though that's a learning for another day!)

Today I have been thinking about a lesson that was hard to learn. When I was growing up, I was often told I could do and be anything I wanted. Of course it was the 1980s and we all knew that wasn't true right then, it was more aspirational. Like...obviously my mom would say I *could* grow up to be president, but that's not entirely true, is it? Not because I'd be a terrible president, but because that's not a thing women can do just yet. Between social, political, and economic realities, the statement "you can do anything" is the kind of thing that we hope will become true the more we say it.

Anyway, I am mildly embarrassed to admit how old I was when I realised that one of the things that was causing me some level of unhappiness was that somehow I had internalised the idea that I could, or should, be able to do everything all at once. I'm not sure how people who have spouses and kids manage this, because even as a single person it was a shock to realise that I was going to have to live with a sort of cycle of things I wanted, rather than being able to do literally everything all at once. Clearly, you can't simultaneously work a dream job and travel the world and hang with friends and write a book and climb the ladder of denominational or community leadership, etc etc etc. It's more a rhythm of things weaving in and out than it is an all-or-nothing life experience.

I'm not sure why it took me a long time to figure this out, but it kinda did. I'm glad I learned it though, because I'm so much happier now than I was before I realised why I was feeling so frustrated all the time. :-)

The poem I've been pondering today isn't exactly related to this lesson. Or maybe it is. Anyway...it's by Joy Harjo, the poet laureate of the USA. She is a native woman from the Muscoge (Creek) tribe, and I first heard her during this year's Edinburgh International Book Festival, and I've been exploring some of her work. Today's is a poem called "A Map to the Next World" and it ends with these lines:

We were never perfect.

Yet, the journey we make together is perfect on this earth who was

once a star and made the same mistakes as humans.

We might make them again, she said.

Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.

You must make your own map.

That feels a little like what I think I've learned. 

on the 29th-to-last day of my 30s....

 ...I am once again thinking about how little we know about each other.

Over the past few years I have conducted a lot of funerals. And after at least half of those meetings with families, I have marvelled at how much people don't know about their loved ones. I'm something of a broken record about asking my friends to write down things about their lives, or to talk to their kids about their pre-parenting experiences. Because so much of what we know about our parents is really centred around ourselves rather than being about them, and too often the person's identity and personality ends up feeling pretty one-dimensional when we try to talk about them. 

What sort of things did they enjoy as a child? How did they get into (or out of!) trouble? What skills did they pick up or abandon? How did they meet the person they married? What did that relationship look like before children? What hobbies have endured, or were only for a season? What accomplishments have been forgotten along the way? What adventures did they take, meals did they love, places did they visit? How did they meet friends, and what kept those enduring friendships alive over the decades? How did they feel about things that happened in the world? Where were they at pivotal moments in history? What were the pivotal moments in their own lives (sometimes these are much smaller than a marriage or kids!)? And once children are grown and out of the house, what sorts of things filled their days? What did they enjoy doing for themselves, or for their community, not just for their kids? What kinds of things did they think about, pray about, wonder about that didn't have anything to do with their kids or homemaking or job?

So I suppose the lesson from this end of the decade is that it's important to share our lives with each other. Every time I make a "wine and the word" video I begin by sharing high and low points of the day, and I say something about how important it is that we share even these mundane things, because they are what make up a life. Living this life together in community, deepening our relationships through regular sharing of ourselves, matters. This is what it means to be community, to be in relationship: to know each other beyond just the small talk, and beyond just the most visible aspect of our days.

In what is probably not a coincidence, this is the poem I flipped to this morning as I was revisiting Nadine Aisha Jassat's debut collection "Let Me Tell You This":

Mother

He told me not to heed the Old Wives' Tales,

superstition and elaboration

bound in proverb and fable.

At home, by the kitchen table,

I watched my mother's hands spin the yarn

of meals and housework,

of duty and obligation.

I long to hear the tales in you.

To know that self beyond dinner time and bedtime,

to know the time of the tick of your heart,

which echoes in mine.

I wish I could press my ear to you like a shell,

to hear the ocean of you,

to know the roar that is yours.

What if it gets washed away too quickly?

And I live my life without your tales -- 

Searching, in the empty space by the kitchen table,

in the silence, for the words which were my mother.