WIsdom's House...

 A reflection on Proverbs 9:1-6 for proper 15B by the Rev. Crystal Karr

 
Wisdom has built her house,
she has hewn her seven pillars.
She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine,
she has also set her table.
She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls
from the highest places in the town,
“You that are simple, turn in here!”
To those without sense she says,
“Come, eat of my bread
and drink of the wine I have mixed.
Lay aside immaturity, and live,
and walk in the way of insight.”

Proverbs 8 and 9 are some of my favorite scriptures. They are all about Lady Wisdom, Sophia, the one who calls us to follow and lead a life ripe with the love and grace of God. In this scripture she sends out her servants, sending them out to invite all to her home, to feast with Sophia on bread and wine and to walk with her, to follow her. She does not invite the high and mighty, the respectable, the powerful. No, she invites the simpletons, those who struggle, those who are laughed at to come and eat her bread, drink her wine, to embark on a new life.

Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Eating the bread, drinking the wine, and finding new life. Jesus, like Sophia, invites all to feast at his table. From the very beginning, God's invitation to new life, to grace and love, has extended to those the world typically leaves behind, devalues, and casts out. Eating and drinking are basic to our human experience. Eating and drinking are essential for us to live. Basic and essential is the grace poured out for us. It is the air we breathe, it is the food we eat, it is the liquids we drink. We are swimming in God's grace often without even realizing it.

Today, Sophia, has invited us to feast with her, to ingest wisdom and grace, to embark on a new adventure rooted in God's love. Let us be like her servant girls, not simply keeping it to ourselves but inviting others to this joyous party!

 

Proper 14B

Dear Blog Friends:  This is actually a sermon I will preach at a French church in Manhattan, this Sunday August 12.  In order for it to be translated and available in both French and English, I had to write it out and send it in for translation!  So--  this is more specific than a blog reflection, but I hope that some of you who are experiencing similar growing pains ( good news!) might find it helpful.  Thanks for your indulgence in this offering.  I will also send it out in French ( translated by the church administrator! Just in case! ) 

August 12,2012              11 Pentecost  (Proper 14B)                    Eglise du Ste.Esprit Manhattan                                        Ephesians  4:25-5:2                    Members One of Another—The Body of Christ

Good Morning!   And thanks for the invitation to worship with you.  I have been hearing about your life as a community from your faithful parishioner Lynnaia, who is also my colleague at the Episcopal Church Center.  I know hers is only one view and there are many of you. But I was glad to hear.  She has told me of your exciting growth, of the renovations of the office, and not least of the growing pains that are an inevitable part of expansion and change.    “We are an oasis,” she said, “for people of many different cultures and backgrounds whose common bond is  Christ and French.    We are a loving inclusive  community in a world and a big city that is not always easy to navigate—literally and spiritually.   And we are bursting at the seams,  and that is  not always comfortable.  No surprise there—that is the nature of growth, but that doesn’t make it any easier.   As Lynnaia described your life together, I was struck by the relevance of today’s scripture- Paul’s letter to the Ephesians to your own situation here at St. Esprit. 

        

 The church at Ephesus, like you was a growing church.     This was the early church , only  a generation or so  after Jesus.  Those who gathered, often in someone’s home, were a motley crew, people of many backgrounds.    Hearing the Good News, they came to worship together, regardless of sex or race or class.  Outside, in the Greco-Roman world, the lines of public social division of were sharp, even more so than our own.  Roles were well defined.  One was responsible only  for one’s own kind—slaves, free, Jew, Greek, women, men, rich and poor.  There certainly was no social expectation that these groups would intermingle, go to meetings, worship together and God forbid, claim that they love each other. Inside the church, though, slave and master, male and female, rich and poor worshipped as equals.  All pledged allegiance, not to the state but to God in Christ.  We forget how absolutely counter cultural this was.  How radical.   Different from the early Jewish church communities, these were Gentiles,  marked by diversity of language, tribe, nation and perhaps even religion of origin.  

So as you can imagine, it was not easy to live and work together in harmony, bucking a system as well as their own social upbringing.  There was temptation to have little cliques among the believers in the differing cultural and ritual expectations.   Or a tendency for leadership to become stagnant.  And in spite of the desire to grow, there was  resistance to change, especially, once things finally seemed organized. This was all the more difficult when Paul, their founder,  either traveling or in prison  as was the case with this letter.   Paul writes to reassure and encourage and to put away any doubt as to who they are to be to each other.  He admonishes a bit:  “Don’t steal, don’t talk evil. Put away bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling ( wrangling!—I like that one) ,slander and malice. Be kind, tenderhearted, above all forgiving one another as Christ has forgiven you. ”  Those are good words for any community learning to live together---even if written two thousand years ago!!   But Paul has an even larger view:  It is in Ephesians that Paul first uses that metaphor of the church as Body of Christ, needing all the parts of the body for the whole—the arm, the leg, the ear, the eye.  None can say to the other, “ I have no need of you.”   All are needed, not just the experts.  Later in that same letter,  Paul  writes, “You are citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.” This is a household where every one counts, not just the leaders.   And when things get tough with struggles and disagreement from within and persecution from without, Paul encourages:  “Christ by the power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.” 

And in today’s text,   “You are members of one another.  Each of you is a piece of the whole, connected to the other in such a way as to be part of the other.  Therefore your success, your failures, your joys and sorrows, your salvation and your relationship with God are inextricably related—bound not by social class or common interests but by Christ.  ( okay—maybe by language, too!)  

As  we know from Paul’s letters, that was not always easy,  even for those who were so close to the time of Jesus.   Living in community, especially when Christians were persecuted for their faith, meant that being a Christian was risky business and  violence was a part of everyday life.  ( I do not forget that today we, too, experience religious violence—most recently against Sikhs in Wisconsin, but also against Buddhists, Christians, Jews, and Moslems—we will pray for peace in our own time today and for those who mourn)

In many ways that early church was an oasis, as Lynnaia described Saint Esprit, a place to come for a cool drink, refreshment and renewal.   

Too often however the oasis in the desert is a mirage, not real, some part of our imagination.  The real world oasis is only that when the whole community comes together to make it so.    Like the Ephesians, we in our church communities today, are invited to truly be The Body of Christ, the Household of God, Members of one another---who through Christ can do  infinitely more than you can ask or imagine!

But it takes work, not just from a few but from all.  For a growing community to sustain itself, everyone is invited  to put a shoulder to the plow, each to offer their  gifts, or their arms and legs and eyes and minds, allowing the richness of the diverse community to blossom.   Perhaps from time to time this means that some must  give up what have been their treasured tasks!  And when all the helping hands are not quite as coordinated as one might like, consider that the Holy Spirit is somehow in the midst of it all.

I say all this, not to “tell you what to do” or to shake a finger, but because your wonderful story of growth reminds me of the parish in Atlanta where I was rector for eleven years  before coming to New York.   We were a growing church, spiritually and physically, with strong lay leadership.  Begun as a mission in the 1960’s, the  founding families were still vital to the everyday work of the church but there were just not enough hands to do the work.  Those founders were tired, yet a little reluctant to give up their claim on the tasks that had served the church so well.   We needed more space and a new organ.  Little by little we managed to change—a capital campaign, a mission program, a new organ.   And in the change, the gifts of all were needed. Little by little, we began to understand membership and discipleship as a profound commitment. 

   I will never forget the time one family began coming to Sunday worship.  They were lovely: the  parents and three or four children.  The mom was a singer and a teacher.  The children were  elementary and teen aged.  The dad ran some sort of business.  They came to church every Sunday for a few months.   And after a short time, others began to ask, “Could you help with the homeless dinner program? Could you lead the youth group next week?  Could you help with the accounting? Would you like to join us for the monthly prison visit?  Hesitantly, they got involved.  But not long afterwards the parents came to see me.  They loved our parish, they said.  Wonderful  worship, a beautiful setting, an Oasis.  Then a moment of silence and  I waited for what was next.  “But it is too much work.”     I laughed.  And knew that lovely and faithful as they were, they would not be happy at this small growing parish.    I didn’t expect that we would ever be big enough  to hire people to do the work.   We would just have to figure out what it meant to be the Body of Christ by using the arms and legs and hearts and minds of the folks who were there!   This household of God needed kitchen workers and altar workers and mission workers, and every other sort.  As the Body of Christ in that place household where  everyone shares and switches up when necessary was needed! Even when that isn’t easy! 

That story of another parish, I think is not so different from many others—Ephesus, St. Dunstan’s, that parish in Atlanta, and particularly today of Saint Esprit.   Indeed there is no doubt that the Holy Spirit is at work here—in the bursting at the seams, in the growing and in the pains!  So in the days to come I invite you to call on Paul, remembering his words to the Ephesians :  Remember who you are as the Body of Christ, members, one of another in all your diversity.  And most of all not to lose heart, knowing that Christ whose power working in you can do infinitely more than any of us  can ask or imagine.  Just imagine!   

Amen.

Margaret R. Rose 

 

Dear Blog Friends:  This is actually a sermon I will preach at a French church in Manhattan, this Sunday August 12.  In order for it to be translated and available in both French and English, I had to write it out and send it in for translation!  So--  this is more specific than a blog reflection, but I hope that some of you who are experiencing similar growing pains ( good news!) might find it helpful.  Thanks for your indulgence in this offering.  I will also send it out in French ( translated by the church administrator! Just in case! )

onzième dimanche après la pentecôte                           12 août 2012

 Éphésiens  4:25 - 5:2         Membres les uns des autres  -  Le Corps du Christ

Je suis bien contente d'être ici aujourd'hui.  L'année dernière, alors que je devais célébrer un office avec vous, l'Ouragan Irène m'a empêchée d'arriver à l'église, et, probablement, certains d'entre vous également n'ont pas pu y accéder.  Je suis désolée d'avoir raté cette occasion, mais j'ai reçu beaucoup d'informations sur votre vie en communauté par votre fidèle paroissienne Lynnaia, qui est également ma collègue au Centre de l'Église Épiscopalienne.  Naturellement, je n'ai entendu que son point de vue, et vous êtes bien nombreux; mais j'étais contente d'entendre ce qu'elle avait à dire.  Elle a fait mention de l'expansion importante de l'église, des rénovations à venir, et aussi de toutes les complications qui font inévitablement part de tout changement et agrandissement.  "Nous sommes une oasis", a-t-elle dit, pour des personnes de différentes cultures et différentes origines dont le lien commun est le Christ et la langue française.  Nous sommes une communauté accueillante dans un monde et une grande ville où il n'est pas toujours facile d'exister - littéralement et spirituellement.  Et nous éclatons - nous n'avons plus assez d'espace - et ce n'est pas toujours un sentiment très confortable."  Ce n'est pas surprenant - il en est toujours ainsi lorsqu'une église s'agrandit, mais cela ne rend pas les choses plus faciles.  Alors que Lynnaia décrivait votre vie ici, j'ai été frappée par la ressemblance avec la lecture d'aujourd'hui, la lettre de Paul aux Éphésiens, et votre propre situation à Saint Esprit.

L'église d'Éphèse, comme la vôtre, était une église en croissance.  Une église toute nouvelle, seulement une génération après Jésus.  Ceux qui se rassemblaient, souvent dans la demeure d'un croyant, formait un rassemblement disparate, des gens de milieux divers.  Ayant entendu la Bonne Nouvelle, ils venaient prier ensemble, quels que soient leur sexe, leur classe sociale ou leur race.  Au dehors, dans le monde gréco-romain, les divisions sociales étaient très nettes, bien plus qu'elles ne le sont maintenant.  Les rôles de chacun étaient bien définis.  On ne se souciait que de ceux qui étaient identiques à soi - esclaves, hommes libres, Juifs, Grecs, femmes, hommes, riches et pauvres.  Une société aussi stratifiée n'encourageait nullement les rencontres, les prières et certainement pas un sentiment d'amour des uns pour les autres.  Par contre, dans l'église, tous priaient ensemble - maître et esclave, homme et femme, riche et pauvre - ils étaient égaux.  Tous prêtaient un serment d'allégeance, non pas à l'État, mais à Dieu à travers le Christ.  Nous oublions parfois combien cette attitude était radicale, à l'encontre de la culture ambiante.  Bien différents des communautés religieuses juives, ils étaient des "Gentils", dénotés par la diversité de leurs langages, leurs tribus, leurs nations et même leurs religions d'origine.

Vous pouvez imaginer combien il leur était difficile de vivre et travailler en harmonie, se rebellant contre un système et contre leurs traditions sociales.  Il était tentant de former de petites cliques correspondant à certaines attentes culturelles et rituelles.  Ou bien de développer une inertie dans la façon de diriger.  Et malgré le désir de croissance, survenait une résistance au changement surtout lorsque les choses semblaient finalement organisées.  Les difficultés se ressentaient d'autant plus que Paul, le fondateur, était souvent en voyage, ou, comme dans le cas de cette lettre, en prison.  Paul écrit pour les encourager et les rassurer et réitérer qu'ils sont tout les uns pour les autres, sans doute aucun.  Il les gronde un peu : "Que le voleur ne vole plus; ne laissez aucune parole blessante franchir vos lèvres.  Que toute amertume, animosité, colère, clameur, calomnie, ainsi que toute malfaisance, soient enlevées du milieu de vous.  Soyez bons les uns envers les autres, pleins d’une tendre bienveillance ; faites-vous grâce, comme Dieu vous a fait grâce dans le Christ."    Voilà des mots parfaits pour toute communauté qui apprend à vivre ensemble - même s'ils ont été écrits il y a deux mille ans!  Mais Paul nous donne une vue plus large encore : c'est dans cette lettre qu'il utilise la métaphore de l'église en tant que "Corps du Christ" où toutes les parties du corps sont nécessaires pour former un tout - bras, jambes, oreilles, yeux.  Personne ne peut dire à l'autre "Je n'ai pas besoin de toi".  Tous sont nécessaires, pas seulement les experts.  Plus loin dans la même lettre, Paul écrit :" Vous êtes concitoyens des saints, membres de la maison de Dieu."  C'est une maison où chaque membre compte, pas seulement les dirigeants.  Et quand les choses deviennent difficiles, avec des disputes et des désaccords internes et des persécutions externes, Paul les encourage :" Le Christ, par sa puissance qui agit en nous, peut réaliser infiniment au- delà de ce que nous demandons ou même pensons." 

Et dans le texte d'aujourd'hui : " Nous sommes membres les uns des autres."  Chacun d'entre vous est un morceau d'un tout, relié à l'autre de telle façon que vous faites partie de lui.  Ainsi vos succès, vos échecs, vos joies et vos chagrins, votre salut et votre relation avec Dieu sont inextricablement liés - non pas par classe sociale ou intérêts communs mais dans le Christ - (bon, peut-être aussi à travers la langue française!).

Comme nous le savons par les lettres de Paul, ce n'est pas toujours simple, même pour ceux qui étaient si proches du temps de Jésus.  La vie en communauté, surtout lorsque les Chrétiens étaient persécutés pour leur foi, signifiait qu'être chrétien était plutôt risqué et la violence faisait partie de la vie de tous les jours.  (Je n'oublie pas, qu'aujourd'hui encore, on est confronté aux effets de la violence religieuse - tout récemment contre les Sikhs du Wisconsin, mais aussi contre les Bouddhistes, les Chrétiens, les Juifs et les Musulmans - nous prions donc maintenant pour la paix à notre époque et pour tous ceux qui sont en deuil). 

De bien des façons, cette église des premiers chrétiens était une oasis, comme Saint Esprit est aujourd'hui, selon Lynnaia, un endroit où l'on peut se rafraîchir et se renouveler.

Cependant, bien souvent, une oasis dans le désert est un mirage, une création de notre imagination.  L'oasis dans le monde réel n'existe que lorsque toute la communauté fait en sorte d'exister ensemble.  Comme les Éphésiens, nous sommes invités, dans nos communautés d'église, à être vraiment le Corps du Christ, la demeure de Dieu, Membres les uns des autres - qui, à travers le Christ, peuvent accomplir bien plus que ce que l'on peut demander ou imaginer!

Mais cela demande des efforts, pas seulement de quelques-uns, mais de la part de tous.  Pour qu'une communauté en expansion puisse se maintenir, chacun est invité à pousser la charrue, à offrir leurs talents, leurs bras, leurs jambes, leurs yeux et leurs esprits, afin de permettre l'épanouissement de la richesse de la communauté.  Cela peut vouloir dire, parfois, que certains doivent abandonner ce qui avait été leurs tâches favorites!  Et si tous ceux qui viennent aider ne présentent pas un front aussi organisé qu'il le faudrait, rappelez-vous cependant que l'Esprit Saint est en action au milieu de vous tous.

Je vous dis tout cela, non pas pour vous "dire ce que vous devez faire" ou pour vous admonester, mais parce que votre croissance magnifique me rappelle une paroisse à Atlanta où j'ai été recteur pendant onze ans avant de venir à New York.

Nous étions une église en plein développement, spirituellement et physiquement, avec un engagement laïque très important.  Ayant commencé comme une mission dans les années 1960, les familles fondatrices étaient encore indispensables dans la vie quotidienne de l'église, mais il n'y avait pas assez de monde pour toutes les tâches nécessaires.  Les fondateurs étaient fatigués mais en même récalcitrants quant à l'idée d'abandonner leur mainmise sur tout ce qui avait si bien servi à l'expansion de cette église.  On avait besoin de plus d'espace et d'un nouvel orgue.  Petit à petit, on est arrivé à changer - une campagne de levée de fonds, un programme de mission, un nouvel orgue.  Et avec le changement, les talents de tous étaient nécessaires.  Petit à petit, nous avons commencé à comprendre combien l'engagement des membres et de la congrégation était important et profond.

Je n'oublierai jamais le moment où une famille commença à assister aux offices du dimanche.  Des gens charmants : les parents et trois ou quatre enfants; la mère était enseignante et chanteuse.  Les enfants étaient en classes élémentaires et au collège.  Le père gérait une compagnie.  Ils vinrent à l'église chaque dimanche pendant plusieurs mois.  Et après un moment, on leur demanda : "Pourriez-vous nous aider avec le programme des dîners pour les sans-abri?  Pourriez-vous prendre en charge le groupe de jeunes la semaine prochaine?  Pourriez-vous aider avec la comptabilité?  Voudriez-vous nous accompagner dans les visites aux prisons? "

Avec un peu d'hésitation, ils se mirent à participer aux activités.  Mais peu de temps après, les parents vinrent me voir.  Ils aimaient beaucoup notre paroisse, me dirent-ils.  Très beaux services, magnifique endroit, une oasis.  Un silence s'ensuivit et j'attendis de voir ce qui allait suivre.  "Mais, c'est vraiment trop de travail".  Je ris. 

Pour tout gentils et fidèles qu'ils fussent, ils ne seraient jamais heureux dans cette paroisse qui se développait rapidement.  Je ne m'attendais pas à ce que la paroisse devienne suffisamment importante pour que nous ayons à embaucher des personnes pour effectuer certaines tâches.  Il nous fallait comprendre ce que signifiait être le Corps du Christ en utilisant les bras, jambes, coeurs et esprits de ceux qui étaient là!  Cette maison de Dieu avait besoin d'aides dans la cuisine, à l'autel, pour la mission et pour bien d'autres choses encore.  En tant que Corps du Christ, chacun partageait et changeait d'emploi suivant ce qui était nécessaire.  Même lorsque ça n'était pas facile!

L'histoire de cette autre paroisse, je ne pense pas qu'elle soit si différente de bien d'autres - Éphèse, St. Dunstan (la paroisse d'Atlanta), et particulièrement aujourd'hui, Saint Esprit.  En fait, il n'y a aucun doute que l'Esprit Saint est au travail ici - dans le fait que l'église est souvent pleine à craquer; dans l'accroissement et les ennuis qui l'accompagnent!  Donc, dans les jours qui viennent, je vous invite à vous souvenir des exhortations de Paul aux Éphésiens : " Souvenez-vous que vous êtes le Corps du Christ, les membres les uns des autres dans toute votre diversité."  Et surtout, ne vous laissez pas aller au découragement, en sachant que la puissance du Christ travaille en vous et peut faire infiniment plus qu'aucun d'entre nous ne peut demander ou imaginer.  Allez, imaginez!                

Amen.

                                           La Révérende Margaret Rose

Proper 13B

A reflection on the readings for Proper 13B: 2 Samuel 11:26-12:15; Psalm 51; Ephesians 4:1-16; John 6:24-35 by Janine Goodwin

So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.”
Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

In this passage, Jesus is busy tearing down everything that stands in the way of relationship. The crowd comes to him, having put considerable time and effort (those boats didn't have motors) into finding him, and he confronts them, telling them they are looking for him because he gave them food. Material advantage is not the basis for a relationship with the infinite God. In our times, this passage can serve as a powerful contradiction to the prosperity gospel, which claims that the wandering homeless man Jesus wants you, yes, you, to be rich. The point is not food, though food is good and Jesus has fed them. He has met them where they are, and now it's time to go deeper.

The point, which the crowd keeps missing, is not what Jesus does, but who he is. The point is that he wants people to know him. We are that crowd. We want things, we ask for things, and Jesus wants a relationship He wants to feed us in a deeper way than the material, not instead of but as well as the material. He wants to be known, to give life, to answer the hunger and thirst for meaning and connection. He wants us to care for one another, as well; the passage from Ephesians reminds us that the love of God is meant to be lived out with others.
In a culture as materialistic as that of 21st-century America, this can be a hard passage to read. Our popular media present an endless stream of commodities, and people and relationships can seem like just another thing to be obtained through hard work and earned prosperity. We can get the perfect spouse, job, friends, kids, and great car if we just do the next thing and buy the next gadget and improve ourselves! This seems like a message of hope, but in a time of contracting economies and deep imbalances between rich and poor, the message of advertising carries an underlying current of desperation and despair. The despair deepens when the gadgets we manage to get don't make us content. We yearn after luxury while fearing we will not even have the necessities, and in between it all we have trouble caring about each other. Others are clearly flawed, not like the images of airbrushed and photoshopped beauty, male and female, that meet us on every flat surface in a city and every screen we pass. We are flawed when we judge ourselves by the standards of perfect looks, wealth, and personality. How can we believe in a God who wants to meet us where we are, know and love us, and be known and loved? How can we believe that we and those around us are worthy of love and generosity?
I have spent the last couple of weeks thinking about the way Bathsheba is absent in her own story, the story of her abduction and rape by David (it is a rape: she had no other real choice but death). Even Nathan's heroic confrontation of David places her firmly in the role of property, comparing her to a sheep. David repents of his actions not because of what he has done to her, but because he has stolen property from another man and offended God. All we know of her soul is that she mourned for the husband whom David had arranged to have killed. Except for that brief glimpse, the narrator of the story treats her as a commodity. Even the death of her child is a punishment for David's sins. Psalm 51, said to be David's response to Nathan, says nothing about his relationship with others, only his relationship to God. Something is missing even in his repentance.
Our culture is not that different than David's, for all the progress we have made toward letting women have some independence. We know little about any kind of love, despite all the songs about infatuation that play continually on our radios: we, too, see people as commodities, and the language used for love is too often about possession and control rather than caring and communication. Feminism, as has been famously said, is the radical notion that women are people. I sometimes wonder whether any of us see each other as people, whether we can see ourselves and see each other as God sees us. It is not progress when women learn to objectify men in the ways men have always objectified women. Children are still despised, abused, and treated as property. Disabled and elderly people and poor people are still seen as worthless. How can we learn to know and care for one another as Jesus wants to care for us? How can we learn to know him as he wants to be known? How can we reach the vision of community in the reading from Ephesians and not limit community to a few people like us, but be like Jesus and see all people as worth loving? It is hard work, far harder than sailing or rowing after someone who has given us bread. It calls for constant awareness of our own ingrained attitudes and the courage to change them. It calls for the most difficult prayer of all, the prayer that is listening for the quiet voice of God in the very center of our distracted selves. Dare we do it?

Janine Goodwin



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Bathsheba...the wise one?

A reflection on the propers for 11B: 2nd Samuel 11:1-17 by the Rev. Terri C. Pilarski

In the four chapters between last week’s reading in 2^nd Samuel and this week – there were a lot of battles, sometimes called the “Davidic Wars” – which tout David’s skill as a military leader and his rising authority as King.

Now this morning we hear the story of David, the beloved king, who having developed a rather high opinion of himself, acts with arrogance and self-entitlement – he orders another man’s wife to be brought to him. And not just any one, Bathsheba is the wife of the Uriah, a loyal warrior in David’s army. Of course Bathsheba has no choice, if she wants to keep her life she must obey the king, and so she goes to him…and we all know what that means…she ends up pregnant with David’s child.

To cover his indiscretion David first attempts to convince Uriah to leave his military post and sleep with Bathsheba, so that Uriah might be fooled into thinking that the child is his. But Uriah is a good man, loyal to his duty, and refuses to break the protocol of a warrior. David then conspires to have Uriah killed and  he takes Bathsheba as his wife. 

David pays dearly for this egregious act of arrogance – betrayal of Uriah - a loyal friend and soldier; betrayal of a married woman – an act that might have cost Bathsheba her life too. Tragically even the child dies. Although David’s first wife, Michal tried to warn David that he was becoming too arrogant, he ignored her.  (2^nd Samuel 6:20).

The lectionary will skip the next seven chapters, but in them David is held accountable by the prophet Nathan, and by God, for his behavior. Suddenly cognizant of how his actions have harmed others, David becomes aware of the depth of his sin. David is humbled, makes amends, and tries to repair the damage done, to heal the brokenness he has caused.

Of course this story would be much different if told through the eyes of Bathsheba or Michal. It would tell a story much like the stories of today – of women who are nothing more than property. Michal, the wife of Saul who becomes the unloved wife of David. Michal who speaks her mind to David regarding his arrogant behavior and as a result David spurns her. Michal experiences the greatest humiliation of a woman in her era, she is childless.

And what of Bathsheba? Is she happily married to Urriah? What does she think when the king’s servants come to fetch her? We have no idea, her thoughts are not recorded. But one can imagine that she was filled with terror – she has no choice but to obey the king. And yet obeying him will surely mean the end of her marriage, and thus the end of her life. She probably felt doomed one way or the other.

Such is the fate of many women, even today. As the Olympics take place in London we hear the stories of women who have struggled against all odds of culture and religion for the opportunity to compete in these Olympics. As war wages in Syria I think of the women who are surely the untold victims of violence.  Guerilla warfare tactics understand the power that raping women will have on the structure a society – these crimes of war undermine the very fabric of the community. These tactics are inexpensive, easy to organize, and effective. They leave women brutalized and their husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers angry – sometimes at the woman herself – sometimes at themselves and their helplessness to prevent it – and always at the perpetrators. Countless stories could be raised that point to the victimization of women.

Thus it’s curious to me that in story in Second Samuel, David conspires to have Urriah, the husband, killed. Under the typical circumstances of war and violence it seems the woman would have been the one to die. Why does Bathsheba live? Perhaps that says something about the character of David, broken as it is? Perhaps it also says something about Bathsheba herself. Perhaps she was wiser than the text reveals?

Proper 11B

A reflection on the readings for Proper 11: Mark 6:30-34, 53-56 by the Rev. Kate Hennessy-Keimig



It’s easy to imagine the scene. Simon and his brother Andrew, James and John, Philip, Nathaniel and Matthew, Thomas and the rest of them all gathering around Jesus. They are fresh from their mission trip; all talking a mile a minute and gesturing wildly, each wanting to be heard, each wanting the beloved rabbi to know that he had been out there teaching and preaching and healing. Perhaps wanting some praise for a good job done, or just to let Jesus know that he had indeed gotten it, that he was a good and accomplished disciple.

And all around them are the people, coming and going, people who are pressing in on every side, people making demands. There was not even time to eat! Jesus invites them to take a break with him, and they get into the boat to go in search of some peace and quiet. But of course, the people “recognized him,” got to other side of the lake before they did, and instead of a peaceful deserted retreat, Jesus and the disciples are met by the crowd full of need.

Mark says the people were like sheep without a shepherd. These people were wandering, looking for something, looking for someone. They had been failed by those in whom they had put their trust. They have been at the mercy of poor shepherding for a long time with a series of harsh and unjust leaders. The people recognized something different in Jesus and came to him came to him believing that if they just touched the fringe of his cloak they knew they would find healing. Those sheep had found their shepherd and they gathered gratefully close around him, sure and certain that what they needed would be found in him. Mark says he had compassion for them. Compassion -- empathy, mercy, love and concern all in one package. No wonder they were drawn to him!

We are told that the people in the crowd “immediately recognized” Jesus. We can’t help but wonder how. Surely not the way we would recognize him, from having seen his picture on the evening news, or having him be our friend on Facebook! They knew him by who he was, by what he did, by how he lived. His life was the most consistent expression ever of loving relationship with God. To know Jesus was to know God. The constancy of Jesus’ compassion and love revealed his kinship with and dependency on God. He knew God’s love in every fiber of his being and his every action manifested it.

As we run around in our busy lives, out there on our mission trips, working hard at meeting the world’s needs, struggling to find the leisure to rest or eat, perhaps it’s good for us to remember that there is more to our story, too, and to rest in the faith that we too are part of God, loved by God and to be God to each other by the way we live every day.

"Just Dance"

A reflection the readings for Proper 10B/Ordinary 15B: 2 Samuel 6 by the Rev. Karla J. Miller



During my first year of seminary, I took a liturgical dance class, as I was interested in learning more on how to integrate movement in worship, especially with children. I was especially excited that the instructor, RevDance, was a former member of the Alvin Ailey dance company among other credentials, and her thesis for her M. Div. degree included a sermon dance on Hagar, which I had seen online and found incredibly moving deep in my core.



Now, I have to say here that I am NOT a dancer, and have had no training in dance, unless you count learning the Virginia Reel and the Hustle in high school PE classes.

Oh, and Jazzercise as an adult. I don’t have long Rockette-like legs, or lithe flowing arms--rather, I am a bit, well, stout, and with just hints of flexibility. Jus’ sayin.



On the first day of class, after RevDance warmed up us with some exercises and group movement pieces as she read scripture, we sat in a circle on the slate chapel floor to go through the syllabus. She informed us that during the semester, we would create a worship service together. I immediately said, “We don’t have to dance in front of the whole school, do we?” and she assured me that we would take the lectionary for the week, and create a movement inspire worship service around a theme we found in the scriptures. I felt assured, because I sure as heck wasn’t going to be leaping around and shaking my booty in front of my colleagues.



The course was really wonderful, and I learned some great skills in how to work with liturgy and movement that I could use in ministry. Then, the time came to plan for chapel. We had this wonderful Psalm, so while RevDance read part of the scripture, then the seven of us moved as a cluster after each verse, while this amazing jazz pianist riffed on the piano. It was very improvisational--that’s the only way I can explain it. So, as we practiced together, all of sudden, RevDance said, “Karla, at the end of this verse, I want you to peel off from the group, and do a solo.”



“Solo what?” I thought in my head, and I looked at her quizzically, and said, “Huh?”

“Just peel off and let your body move to the music and Word. Everybody will have a chance to do it.” I was horrified. “Are we going to do this in worship tomorrow? This peel off-y thing?” She brightly said, “Yes!” Sh-t, I thought to myself, because I couldn’t really say it out loud at the time. I lamely practiced my solo by running around the space and fluttering my fingers, getting back to the group cluster as fast as I could.

I mean really, what the heck?



I considered being really sick the next day, so I could miss chapel, but instead, I pulled on my sweat pants and t-shirt, and showed up in bare feet for worship. Did I say the guy improvising on the piano was pretty stellar? Totally moved by the Spirit. The time came for our “piece.” PianoJazzman began riffing, and then RevDance was reading this beautiful scripture, and the Spirit started moving in me, and when it came for my solo, I totally let loose.



I didn’t care who or what was happening in the room, it was just my body, the Word, and music that was so holy it felt sacramental. I twirled, I swept my arms down to the floor, I rolled on the group, I lept, I cried--I danced unto the Lord! I Danced! It was one of the few times I felt completely fearless, filled with love and joy, without abandon. I felt like I was flying, but completely grounded.



So, when I reflect on David’s leaping and dancing with all his might (and quite possibly nakedly, according to scholarship) as the ark was brought into the city of David, I think of the moment when I truly danced for God, without abandon. The sheer, pure joy truly is fearless. The passion is abiding. It’s something I can appreciate, in spite of this flawed character of a King.



There are problems in this text that beg to be noticed. What about all that unpleasantness with Uzzah? The poor guy was just trying to still the ark with his hand because the oxen shook the cart it was resting on. God strikes him dead? No wonder the lectionary leaves out those verses in the reading.



One of the other silences in this text centers around David’s wife, Michal, who is Saul (David’s predecessor in the kingship). Traditionally, Michal gets a bum rap because upon seeing David dancing in the streets, she “despises” him, and later, in verses 20-23 (also not in the lectionary reading) appears as if she is nagging David for exposing himself in the street like any common vulgar fellow. David defends himself, and the text ends with the report that Michal never had a child to the day of her death. Does that mean David abandoned conjugal relations with her, as a punishment? Did God strike her barren? We don’t know, but we do know that she never had the joy of childbirth, which was pretty much an expectation of success for women in the ancient world.



Cheryl Exum has a wonderful chapter in Alice Bach’s book, The Pleasures of Her Text, entitled, “Murder They Wrote: Ideology and Manipulation of Female Presence in the Bible” which explores the story of Michal, and lifts her out of the “phallogenic bias of the text” in order to “hear her voice” and giving her a “measure of autonomy denied in the larger story.” She notes that previously Michal “loved” David, but nowhere in the larger story does David show any emotion or affection toward her. His attitude towards her is either ignoring her, or being defensive. In addition, instead of perceiving her as nagging, perhaps she is trying to preserve and defend what is holy and sacred in their tradition. The point being, there is much more to this woman than the bias of the text leads us to believe.



So back to the dance. David is not perfect, and usually a downright scoundrel, if you ask me, in spite of writing some beautiful music. But he was deeply passionate in his praising of God, and even in his despairing laments to God. He knew how to let loose, which I think is important for all of us to learn, because really, each day is an improvisation on life and faith, isn’t it?



And perhaps, the more we can fear less, and be opened more, we notice the wider world more--and discrepancies and injustices come to light, and we might be led to passionately and courageously expose them. The presence of Uzzah and Michal remind us, than in the larger story, there are those who are excluded, and as we dance with God and for God, we are called to bring forth those excluded into full inclusion in this story of Life.



Let’s dance together, shall we?

Proper 9B

A reflection on Proper 9B:2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Ps. 48; Mark 6:1-13 by The Rev. Jacqueline Schmitt


From the snippet of reading we get today from the Second Book of Samuel, David had it easy all the way to the top: no bruising primaries, no devastating poll results, no skyrocketing unemployment rate, no dog strapped to the roof of his car while he took his family on vacation.

What is left out of the snippet is in fact how bloody and tough it was for David to make it to be the King of Israel. It was in fact a struggle to occupy that stronghold of the city he would name after himself, and it was only in looking back, as the people of Israel reflected on David’s long reign, on how David got greater and greater, that they realized that indeed, the Lord, the God of hosts, was with him.

The people of Israel understood their history as God’s history – indeed, their story was only a story, because God chose them and directed them, God blessed them, and God punished them, and no matter what, God always loved them as God’s own. Often, in the midst of unpleasant things – like David’s bloody war to take control of Israel – it was only in looking back that the people could see God’s hand at work in the world around them – it was only in looking back that their story made sense.

Similarly the Gospel of Mark – as an immediate account of the life and ministry of Jesus that we will get – is also told from the point of view of the ending. Looking back, after the resurrection, what people remembered about what Jesus said and did made sense. They could discern patterns, meanings, could see how this story was connected, intimately, with that older story of God’s dealings with the people – they could see the connection between that older shepherd-king of Israel, David, and this one, this Good Shepherd, bringing about a reign of God’s justice and peace.

If we were in, say, Nazareth – an established town – with our own routines, where things maybe could be better but were not so bad, at least tolerable – where we lived in houses, with families, where we could make ends meet – if life was ok for us, we would not be so interested in this itinerant preacher and healer coming in and telling us that things were about to change, staring with him, starting right now. It is likely that the people of Nazareth heard those stories that we read last week, about the healing of the older woman and the little girl, about Jesus sailing back and forth across the Sea of Galilee, visiting those dangerous strangers on the other side, and who could possibly believe that he made the storm to cease and the seas to calm? The passage says the people of Nazareth knew Jesus, knew his family – they certainly knew where he came from – and not even all that familiarity caused them to trust him.

What Jesus was doing made no sense to them, those townspeople who kind of had it together. It is harder for people who have options to weigh to decide to follow Jesus – harder for people who have things to lose, who are doing OK. When your little boat is about to go under, when you have been bleeding for decades, when your daughter’s life is slipping through your fingers, and then Jesus comes and does something, then you have no problem believing. Then you get it. When we are really comfortable – or think we are comfortable, or are comfortable enough – in our lives, then we are less trusting of those whose message of salvation and Good News seems only to challenge us enough to make us uncomfortable.

Jesus seems really surprised by the people’s negative reaction – “amazed at their unbelief,” the Gospel says. His response to this setback is to double his efforts – to send his disciples out two by two. Their charge? To attack demons and to heal. To act on the Good News that God is calling for change. The disciples aren’t just about getting people “to come to church.” They are sent out as agents of transformation, sent to be part of how God is changing the world – agents that show that there are parts of the world’s status quo that God is not interested in, that God does not bless.

Like the disciples, our community here is rooted in Jesus. Like for the disciples, this community should be a launching pad – not just to invite people to join our club, but to join us in this marvelous adventure of being God’s agents in the world, of taking up God’s impatience with the way things are, of telling the Good News that things COULD be different, that more abundant life is available to all.