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Showing posts with label Brian P. Stoffregen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brian P. Stoffregen. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Second Sunday of Easter, "Stop breathing on me!" April 19, 2020


A Easter 2 BFC 2020
John 20:19-23
April 19, 2020

            In an April 3rd article in Financial Times, one of my spiritual directors from afar, a great truth-teller, the Indian author, Arundhati Roy, writes about how we will never be able to use words like “going viral” again without a pause or shudder,  with now over a million people infected, over 50,000 dead.   She worries about her own country as the leader of India, Narendra Modi, parrots other world leaders by strictly enforcing social distancing, not recognizing that, social distancing applied without imagination in India, this means packing people together, almost certain to lead to untold suffering and death in that country. 
           Roy writes that the leaders who are managing this pandemic are openly referring to it as a war.  “But if it really were a war, then who would be better prepared than the US?  If it were not masks and gloves that its frontline soldiers needed, but guns, smart bombs, bunker busters, submarines, fighter jets and nuclear bombs, would there be a shortage?”[1]  We were not prepared for care and healing.  All the time we have been preparing for, giving away our loyalty to, giving our hearts over to violence and war.  We don’t even have the words for care and healing.
           I messaged Tracy a couple days ago that I didn’t know a time in my almost 60 years of life when the world has felt so frighteningly fragile.  Yet, that seems very privileged of me, so unbelievably narcissistic in a world where some people before the pandemic had to worry about their sons wearing a hoodie, others had to worry that their daughters might go missing, in other countries whole communities might get disappeared, and knowing that, unless we change,                   the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s conservative estimates that we have 10 years before we are headed for continuing climate catastrophes.[2]
           I know that is a bummer . . . and a downer.  Who really wants to come to Zoom worship and hear the pastor roll out that kind of dour forecast?   But here is my concern.  If I don’t share that Good Friday awareness, I am not sure we get what resurrection stories, like the one we have before us, must have meant for the early Christian movement, known as The Way. 
In today’s story, the disciples are social distancing out of real fear for their own lives.  These rural, backwater Galileeans know that to be seen in the local Jerusalem marketplace or on the city streets might cost them their lives, might end up with more crucifixions.   We should remember that the crucifixions of the Jewish people do not end because Jesus is resurrected.  Appearances of the Risen Christ, as the story goes, happened before we find the disciples hiding from the city authorities.  The question remaining for the disciples, locked away and social distancing in an upper room, is, does anything of Jesus’s life and ministry mean squat in light of crucifixion?  Or does the imperial violence and narcissism, the lack of bandwidth found among the Jerusalem city officials, mean that the movement dies with the leader of the movement . . . that the movement dies when setbacks, violence, obstacles, trauma, and threats  come to a people?
What the Scriptural story tells us is that Jesus comes to the disciples and stands square in the midst of them, addresses them in the plural, as a community, and assuages their fear.  Peace, he gives them, not as the Domination System gives—through military might, power over, and economic leverage—but in a way that continues to midwife community.  Jesus does all this in a way that is spiritually embodied. 
Biblical scholar Ched Myers reminds us that, as Christians, we live in a spiritually embodied tradition.  This is not a ghostly tradition.  Myers writes, in embodied form, he is the “Executed One, Beat-up One, Famished One, Refusing-to-be-Dead One.”[3]  Sanitizing these texts is only available to the privileged.  Those who are not so privileged know that Good Friday happened and happens.  The wounds are still there, the blows and strikes are still evident.  But the Risen Christ is there to remind them that the work they did, the mission they were on, it transcends all of that.  It’s bigger and must continue. 
The value the Risen Christ asks for here is a derivative of the Greek verb, pistis.  Pistis has traditionally been too often translated as “to believe”—a word that connotes intellectual assent or idea.  In the Bible, it has even been stretched to believing the unbelievable.  Like, “I believe the tooth fairy is real!  See my quarter?” 
Recognizing that early gospel writers were aware of the imperial cult and the Caesar-religion, they would have also known that Caesar Augustus had rejuvenated loyalty or faithfulness as a primary Roman value using the word pistis.[4]  For Rome that verb was much stronger in connotation than intellectual assent.  Pistis meant loyalty, faithfulness, or what Strong’s biblical concordance translates it as, “moral conviction.”[5]  As Lisa read in the introduction to the Scripture, I translated it as, “what we give our heart to.”  With its repeated usage in this resurrection story, the word would ring in First Century ears where people are being asked to give their loyalty to Caesar in small, everyday ways and in large, Roman centurion ways.  Listeners of this story are hearing the story and being confronted with where their loyalty or allegiance lies—with Caesar or with Christ?  If you choose not to be loyal to Caesar, in the First Century, it could mean the decimation of your community or the crucifixion of you and your family.  “Belief” does not capture this loyalty test. 
In this time, in this day, with an authoritarian despot who considers loyalty to be his primary value, how can we not hear this passage as a direct challenge to his way, his path, his rule?  If you are not loyal, maybe you don’t get enough ventilators for your state or your community. 
As Jesus sends the disciples out into the world with a countercultural allegiance, the story borrows from the first creation story in Genesis.  In that creation story, God breathes into the fertile topsoil, breathes into nostrils to animate life.  Humankind comes into being.  God’s inspiration becomes humankind’s respiration.  Repeating the Genesis story, Jesus re-animates the community movement and sends them back out into the Domination System, full well knowing that violence, authoritarianism, and class warfare will continue to be a part of the wider narrative.  You must continue to be different.  You must continue to speak another language.  The community comes back into being.  Divine inspiration becomes community respiration. 
           Three of the gospel writers have resurrection stories.  All of the gospel writers either imply or state plainly that if the resurrection is to be a reality it must be because the community of Christ continues the work begun by Jesus and his community.  In other words, the gospel writers all indicate that the resurrection only happens if Christ’s community continues the ministry.[6]
The Risen Christ re-creates the disciples by breathing on them a holy spirit.  He then gives the disciples, often representing the divergent churches or traditions within the gospels, the power to determine what will be considered sinful and what will not, what will be forgiven and what will be not, who will be in and who will be out.  In this way, the author of John suggests that what the disciples, what the divergent churches decide on earth will be the divine decision.   
The author of John offers an incredible freedom to the early church.  The author of John offers an incredible responsibility to the early church.  Whatever you decide, it shall be so.  The early church is charged with an awesome responsible freedom to discern how God shall be still speaking, how the Risen Christ shall still act.
We are also charged with that awesome responsible freedom.  The world needs to hear God speaking through us as Billings First Congregational Church—not as divergent individuals, but what we have decided as a community collectively.  If we are not able to share what God is speaking in this day and age, we know other church communities who will tell us what God has to say.  We may laugh at them or chide them for assuming that they can speak with clarity and confidence about what God is saying, but how would anyone assume that God has to say anything any different—about who is sinful and who is not, about who is forgiven and who is not, and about who is in and who is out?  How would anyone assume that God has anything different to say if other-hearted people of faith have nothing to say?  If we cannot get together and decide what our baseline is, what our core values are, how do we would expect large issues like world peace to be brokered, racism to be healed, or that national male leaders might step back so that women might have basic rights like equal pay for equal work?   This congregation is a manifestation of the Divine seeking to re-animate community and what God would will and want for the wider world.
Collective discernment is hard work.  To be responsible in this freedom God gives a very divergent people, we would have to sit down at the dialogue table, use the language of faith, and show a willingness to share how God is speaking to us and be willing to hear how God is speaking to others. 
The world so needs to hear the voice of Christians who love this good earth, who cherish its peoples and animals, and who hold values in keeping with deep values in our tradition of justice, compassion, hospitality, solidarity, and protest.  The Risen Christ moves into our upper rooms, where we have been locked in fear, pronounces peace, and breathes on us—this group of divergent disciples.  Today let us be re-created for the way God is still speaking in the world.   The violence, domination, and inequity in our wider world do not mean the movement dies.   It means that our work will be often difficult and challenging.  Where will our loyalties lie?
As the Divine blows through our community, we are called to speak another language.   Crucifixions of the First Century reminded people that the world could not continue with the same loyalties and allegiances, that world transformation was necessary.  Arundhati Roy writes of the current pandemic we are living as a portal to something else. 

Whatever it is, coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else could. Our minds are still racing back and forth, longing for a return to “normality”, trying to stitch our future to our past and refusing to acknowledge the rupture. But the rupture exists. And in the midst of this terrible despair, it offers us a chance to rethink the doomsday machine we have built for ourselves. Nothing could be worse than a return to normality. Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different.
It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it.[7]

In each age, we must be willing to acknowledge the immense suffering and death, violence, domination, and inequity that occur.  As people of faith, however, our story tells us that the Risen Christ stands in our midst again and again, to let us know that these death-givers do not have the final word.  Breathe deeply.  The pandemic is a portal.  Christ is once again re-animating us to other loyalties, another language, ready to imagine another world.  He is sending us out into the world ready to struggle for the peace, not as the Domination System gives, but as he gives.  Let it be so among us.  Amen. 


[1] Arundhati Roy, “The pandemic is a portal,” Financial Times, April 3, 2020, https://www.ft.com/content/10d8f5e8-74eb-11ea-95fe-fcd274e920ca.
[2] Jonathan Watts, “We have 12 years to limit climate change catastrophe, warns UN,” The Guardian, March 8, 2018.  https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2018/oct/08/global-warming-must-not-exceed-15c-warns-landmark-un-report. 
[3] Ched Myers, “Four Brief Meditations on the Way to Easter – Part IV. Easter Sunday: The Somatic Traumatic and Pandemic Lockdown,” chedmyers.org, April 14, 2020, https://chedmyers.org/tag/bible-study/.
[4] Focus of the book by Matthew Bates, Salvation by Allegiance Alone: Rethinking Faith, Works, and the Gospel of Jesus the King (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2016); detailed by Richard Horsley, Paul and Empire: Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (New York:  Bloomsbury Academic, 1997),  pp. 149ff
[6] Brian P. Stoffregen, Exegetical Notes at CrossMarks, http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/john20x19e2.htm
[7] Arundhati Roy, “The pandemic is a portal,” Financial Times, April 3, 2020, https://www.ft.com/content/10d8f5e8-74eb-11ea-95fe-fcd274e920ca.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, August 13, 2017, "Ships are meant to be at sea"

A Proper 14 19 Ord BFC 2017
Matthew 14:22-33
August 13, 2017

          In many historical churches, you all would be sitting in what is called the “nave” of the church, the long narrow center leading from a narthex at the back up to the chancel.  Nave comes from the Latin navis, meaning boat or ship.  The New England Church I pastored in New Hampshire had this beautiful wood ceiling that looked like a ship’s hull turned upside down.  That architecture was intentional, a way of plugging into the deep history and mythology of the Christian Church.  Even in the last church I served in Illinois, one could see a remnant of that architecture with a beautiful wood center in their sanctuary ceiling.  For a boat or a ship, with its mast in the form of a cross, was one of the early symbols of the Christian church.  And boats or ships are never meant to be tied up at a dock.[1]  Ships are meant to be at sea. 
          The sea, in Scriptural meaning, found way back in the first creation story of Genesis, was a symbol of chaos, a potentially life-threatening spirit.  Found within the great chaos of the sea was an even more terrifying sea monster, the Leviathan, always threatening.  Only in God’s creating and re-creating action to provide a boundary is the chaos kept at bay.
Jesus walks out not onto the water, but onto the sea, the place of chaos, a threat to life, and full of terrifying creatures.  The most important part, however, is that as our boat or ship is buffeted by the waves and weather, we know that Jesus is out on the sea with us.  There are also other people in the boat with us.  Community and solidarity with the Divine and with each other created and re-created are what keep the chaos at bay.
Note the disciples’ reaction upon seeing Jesus.  As the boat is battered and the wind moves against them in necessary ways, the disciples think Jesus might be a ghost.  They do not shout for joy upon seeing Jesus or show relief, they are “terrified”, the same word that might be used for a sea that is stirred up or agitated.  The chaos and unraveling happening around them is what they experience on the inside.  And Jesus does not immediately still the storm.  He says, “Take heart.  It is I.  Do not be afraid.”  Lest we think he might be merely a ghost or absent, Jesus is the one person who does not let the outer circumstances dictate his inner disposition.  The disciples are not showing the same inner peace.[2]
          Eugene Boring writes that faith is not about walking on the sea, for Scripture details it is only God who does that, faith is but daring to believe, in the face of all the evidence, that God is with us in the boat, made real in the community of faith as it makes its way through the storm, battered by the waves.”[3]
          The great Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh relates that a lotus, the symbol of Buddhist enlightenment grows and unfolds not on pristine marble, but in the messiness and muck of the mud.  In the same way, we should recognize that chaos and suffering are a part of life.  When we do not run away from the suffering that is before us, but show ourselves willing to enter into it, we learn how to be compassionate and understanding people.  So suffering, he believes, is a necessary part of the Kingdom of God.[4]  As we become more compassionate and understanding people, suffering dissipates not only in our lives but in the lives of others around us.  “Take heart.” Or, “Be courageous.  It is I.  Do not be afraid.”
          Way back in 1999, M. Night Shyamalan’s had his breakthrough as a writer and director with his movie, The Sixth Sense.   The Sixth Sense is a movie with an incredible, surprise ending, causing the viewer to re-think everything they saw throughout the movie.  It begins as a horror movie.  It ends as a prophetic tale with much the same message as our gospel story.  A small boy, Cole Sear, relates that he sees dead people, and he would do anything to avoid their presence in his life.  He is quite naturally terrified of people with axes in their heads, bullet wounds through their backs, vomiting radiator fluid.  Only when Cole confronts his fear, does he recognize that the terrifying ghosts are really teachers with messages of concern and care for the living. 
When we are able to name our fears and confront them, we recognize that our fears and struggles may be entreating us to courage and solidarity even in the chaos.  When we are afraid, however, when we are afraid, everything looks like a ghost.  Even Jesus.  And in Charlottesville, or on the campus of the University of Virginia, Jesus as a middle-eastern, politically revolutionary peasant, who he actually was, creates quite a bit of fear.   There are many who fear joining hands and building community and solidarity with the real Jesus. 
          By joining together in this crazy journey called Christianity, you agree to hop in the boat, sail with us on the ship that is the sea of chaos and suffering.  What we seek to do, on this common voyage, is share in our suffering so that compassion and understanding might grow. We seek to share our fears so that we might acknowledge God’s presence with us as we walk through them.  And, good friends, we not only experience individual fears but common fears for our life as a congregation and church.  Life for local churches, life in our world with the specter of climate change, nuclear war, and people who see hate as the good news, sure reflects a world stirred up and agitated around us. And it is difficult not to be terrified about what the future holds for us. 
As by the name we gave the committee tasked with helping us thinking about the future of our church building, we know that our congregation and local church is at a crossroads.  We cannot be who we were and continue.  Mainline, downtown churches all over the country are learning that difficult lesson. 
So here is what I propose.  I propose that, after a minute of meditation over those fears and struggles you sense deep within you, you might come forward, one at a time, and name those fears and struggles and then drop them in the sea of God’s presence to know that we are all on this boat together.  It is an important Biblical tradition that says as we name our fears, struggles, and demons, we show our power over them in solidarity and community with one another.  As we watch those fears and struggles dissolve and dissipate, we show our faith once again in a God in Christ who did not let his fears and struggles dictate his course of action and his courage.  This is not to say these fears and struggles go away.  Rather, Jesus walked out into the center of chaos and tribulation.  What we do is we say we are willing to engage them, willing to begin, believing that God joins in solidarity and community with us as we do so.  We walk out onto the sea.  And, lo and behold, Christ is with us.
So let us take a minute for meditation.  Take heart.  Do not be afraid.
          I will begin.  I invite you to come forward at this time.
         And we shall navigate this way together.  Perhaps we might learn that the ghosts we fear are really teaching us something about who we can be and will be with God’s presence. 
          In reflecting on what the events in Virginia call from us as Christians, activist and author Ken Sehested wrote from Asheville, North Carolina:

We live, as the author of Hebrews commended, in unverifiable assurance of things hoped for, by the conviction of things not seen, still a distance away from what is promised (11:1, 39). Persistence is among our highest virtues.
        If you know anything about restorative justice, you know the goal of truthtelling is not to decide who to blame and how to punish them. It is to learn who has been harmed, and how; and who must be involved, in what ways, to heal the wound. The horizon is not retribution but restitution, restoration, reconciliation.
        I like the procedural outline my friend Nibs Stroupe identifies, with six stages: recognition, resistance, resilience, reparations, reconciliation and recovery.  I would add a premise to this procedure: Every one of us has a part to play; but few will be convenient or comfortable.
        Another poet, Maya Angelou, gets the last word.
        “History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.”[5]
Getting on this boat, this ship, is not easy.  It is to steer out into the chaos and tribulation.  Some of us may get seasick along the way.  We may even encounter sea monsters.  But we have Christ’s presence mediated through this church.  Sisters and brothers, siblings and cousins, today we once again covenant to be a part of the Christian Church.  Many of our churches were built to remind us that, as a community, we were meant to be a ship.  And ships . . . ships were built to be at sea.  Amen. 



[1] Brian P. Stoffregen, “Matthew 14.22-33, Proper 14-Year A,” Exegetical Notes at CrossMarks Christian Resourceshttp://www.crossmarks.com/brian/matt14x22.htm.
[2] David Ewart, “Year A, Pentecost 8, August 7, 2011” Holy Textures http://www.holytextures.com/2011/05/matthew-14-22-33-year-a-pentecost-august-7-august-13-proper-14-ordinary-19-sermon.html.  “When the disciples see Jesus walking on the sea, they are not relieved, do not shout for joy expecting that Jesus has come to rescue them from the storm (also caused by spirits). Instead, they are terrified. The word used here for "terrified" can also be used to describe a sea that has been agitated and stirred up. In other words, the disciples' inner state is now a perfect reflection of their outer circumstances.”
[3] Eugene Boring, “Matthew,” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. 8, pp. 329-330.
[4] “Interview with Thich Nhat Hanh,” On Being with Krista Tippett, September 26, 2013.  http://www.onbeing.org/program/thich-nhat-hanh-on-mindfulness-suffering-and-engaged-buddhism/transcript/5991#main_content
[5] Ken Sehested, “We are Charlottesville,” prayer & politiks, August 12, 2017.  http://www.prayerandpolitiks.org/blog/2017/08/12/we-are-charlottesville.2776686

Sermon, Year A, Second Sunday of Advent, "We need a story that saves us"

A Advent 2 ColPaul AL 2025 Matthew 1:1-17 December 7, 2025           I wanted to offer a trigger warning this morning knowing that we...