Sunday, July 31, 2016, Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, "Watching our p's and q's"

C Proper 13 18 Ord BFC 2016

Hosea 11:1-11

July 31, 2016

Language carries culture.  I believe language not only carries culture, it shapes our perception, our attitudes and understandings of who we are and who we are in relationship to the world.  Our communal worship is a time when we say that we are practicing, practicing our courage for life in the real world—a world that may look nothing like the way that God wants or wills it.  So often, worship, by its very nature, should be countercultural.  The world says this and repeats this message.  In worship, we say this and repeat this message.  Because we do not want the world’s message to get into your bloodstream and define you.  Every week I share a “Statement of God’s Love” because I believe the world tells you, over and over again, that you are too fat or too skinny, don’t work hard enough or work too much.  Land O Goshen, you may even have dandruff.  And I want you to hear God responding by saying, “Who cares?  Love.  I love you.  You’re good.”  And God says, “Let’s go transform the world together.”  The language we use in worship shapes our perceptions, our attitudes and understandings of who we are and who we are in relationship to God, our neighbor, and the earth. 

When I was a small child, attending Christian Union Church in Metamora, a rural or town church that was a bedroom community for Peoria, Illinois, and Caterpillar, my pastor would say, just before he handed off the communion bread and grape juice to the communion stewards, “And he gave it to his disciples . . .”  He did it, I’m sure, to create the feeling that as this ritual was practiced then so we practice it now.  As with all good ritual, my pastor sought to collapse the past and the future into the present so that we believed we were doing something of eternal value. 

But in doing that, for a long time, my belief was that those people who took the bread and the grape juice out to the congregation were indeed the disciples.  I remember being a little perplexed that none of their first names, some of which I knew, did not correspond with the disciples’ names in the Bible.  It was a spiritual question that vexed me for the longest time.  I know, my brain works in strange ways!  It was a reminder that how we name things in worship matters. 

How we name things is important, the language we use in sacred space can convey deep meaning or confusion or pain or growth.  And we need to re-negotiate what we name things.  We need to be intentional about the language we use so that we continue to seek deep meaning and growth for ourselves.  Because if we are using the same words in faith for ourselves, for God, for our faith, that we used as a child, how do we communicate that we have grown in faith as we get older?  How do we say, in our naming, that our faith matures, and that we are still willing and open to growth?

When I first arrived as Senior Minister of this church a little under two years ago, I officiated at a number of weddings for gay and lesbian couples.  Officiated is a strange word for what a pastor does at a marriage or funeral, isn’t it?  Kind of like, “Personal foul, allowing the groom’s mother to pick the wedding dress.  15 yards, automatic, first down!”  That’s the kind of thing that runs through my goofy head.  And words especially matter in these weddings because the world has some incredibly wicked things to say to lesbian and gay individuals and couples.  At one of the most critical times in their lives, when self-esteem can be at its absolute lowest, our world too often says that hay and lesbian people are "less than" and that their love is not valid.  So what I say in that space take on an even greater significance.  
Anyway, I assume I was being asked to officiate because a number of these couples were afraid that the window might close on their ability to have their relationship recognized.  Again, that worldly message.  Marriage is tough as it is, now we throw in toxic messages?  
The only things I try to require of any couples seeking to be married is that they go through some intensive pre-marital counseling with me.  Having been through a divorce myself, how it created such pain for me and my two boys, I want to give these couples the very best chance to have a healthy and growing relationship.  

One of the things I try to relate to couples in pre-marital counseling, in whatever imperfect way, is that re-negotiating their relationship will not be a sign of their weakness as a couple, but a sign of their strength.  Over and over again, they will have to define what love and loyalty mean for them individually and as a couple.  Sometimes that will mean standing up for themselves.  Sometimes that will mean standing up for the relationship.  Sometimes it will mean saying, “You promised me” or “We promised each other” or helping the other person recognize that a different life situation or circumstance does not convey a lack of love or loyalty.

Rabbi Sharon Brous, a vibrant faith leader from Los Angeles, believes that the Jewish High Holy Days can be defined as a renegotiated marriage.  She talks about such a strong will for relationship that we are willing to challenge God by saying, “God, I did my work this year, but where are you?  How could you let the world look the way it does?”  But we also know we are challenged by similar covenant questions, “Where have I not been the human being I need to be in the world?  And where have I let myself down and let other people down, and let God down?”[1]  Rabbi Brous believes that God wills, wants with all God’s heart, a fierce, passionate, accountable, and covenantal relationship with us. 

Rabbi Brous’ understanding of the Jewish High Holy Days is confirmed by Scripture.  Many of the Jewish prophets understood the relationship between God and Israel as a marriage covenant.  The prophet Hosea even believes that God commands him to marry a prostitute so that Hosea may come to understand the pain, agony, and brokenness God feels.   The whole nation has broken covenant.  We go out chasing the things that are not of God, not bargained for, not promised, and God cries out wanting something much, much more. 

God as marriage partner—how we envision God, how we name God, how we picture God in our mind’s eye matters.  For how we name God and picture God often dictates how we move and act in the world. 

I believe that so strongly.  I believe that so strongly that one of the first things I do as a spiritual director is to have a person state how they name God and then help them see how that naming dictates the rest of their understanding and action.   “Words are one of the primary ways by which we connect with one another.  We are affected both consciously and unconsciously by the words we use.”[2]  Naming conveys meaning and relationship.

Never was that so true for me when I planned for and officiated at the wedding of my brother and sister-in-law.  At some points in my life, my brother, Andy, has been my best friend.  He is one of the people I respect and love most in the universe.  So it was an honor when my brother and his betrothed asked me to officiate their wedding service. 

In planning every wedding, I always ask the couple, “How would you like me to refer to you during the service?  Would you like your full name, your first full name, or a nickname?”  My brother, who everyone else calls, “Andy,” said, “Andrew.” 

“Andrew,” my soon to be sister-in-law inquired, “nobody I know calls you Andrew, who calls you Andrew?”

 Without hesitation, my brother said, “Mike does.”  I am the only one who calls him Andrew, and that’s how he wanted to be named in the wedding service. In two words, my brother conveyed his relationship and the nature of that relationship with me—how strong it was for him.  You cannot imagine what it meant to me that one of the people I feel closest to in the universe, conveyed with one word, what I mean to him—to know that the power and strength of our relationship was mutual.   I could have run through a brick wall.

In naming and in language, we not only indicate our relationship but also indicate an intention and direction for our lives.

So it is in our relationship with God.   If we are to be led out in growth and life with God, we need to name God in a way that will challenge us to grow and recognize the necessary re-negotiation we must do in our covenantal relationship with God.  The prophet Hosea talks about a God who leads us with cords of human kindness, with bands of love, helping the child to walk.  “I was to them,” God says, “as one who lifts them to my cheeks.  I bent down,” one Hebrew translation states, “and fed them with my breast.” 

In a world, in a culture that so often calls God, “He,” what do you call a God who does those kind of things?  Mother?  Nursemaid?  There it is, right there in the Bible.  A God who says that even though the love and loyalty, the covenant has been broken, God cannot give up on the people.  Though the penalty for a disobedient son is stoning, God’s compassion grows warm and tender.

How we name God matters, and if we have only male images and names for God, then our language can lead to our action, our next steps, our direction.     

So today I would like you all to think of a name for God that gives you comfort, and in a moment I am going to ask you to share that with your neighbors around you.  Maybe your name is “Everlasting Father”, “Creator”, or “Breath of Life.”  It’s a name that makes you feel at home with God and perhaps reminds you of some moment in your past when you knew God to be present.  I want you to share a name for God and a sentence about why that name is special to you with your neighbor.

But then I would like you to share a name for God that challenges you, and perhaps, a name that you recognize as necessary for your growth.  Almost all spiritual awakening happens through dis-ease, discomfort, or pain which moves us off our center to imagine a God who is far broader or more deep than what we could have imagined.  Like the prophet Hosea, God is unexpectedly more graceful than we could have imagined, full of compassion, warm and tender.  Maybe that name for God is “Mother of Mercies,” “God of Our Struggle,” “Parent of the Poor,” or “Suffering God.”

You may be surprised to learn that my name for the God who I know and have learned to know is “Underground Stream.”  It reminds me that God works from below and is continually flowing with life and love into the world.  The name for God which causes me discomfort or pain is “Inner Peace” because I do not experience much inner peace in my life.   But at the same time, that name leads me out and pushes me beyond myself, encourages my necessary growth, in some strange way.  I am also working real hard to incorporate the name, “Maker of All Things” into my prayer life because that is the name the Crow people use for a God who is connected to them and a source of power for them and all of creation.  It is a prayer to God I have that the Crow people might know me to be safe and seeking strong relationship with them.

We know that any image of God is incomplete.  But as I alluded to earlier, we should not be stuck with an image of God we held at 5 that we now take as our image at 25 or 85.  For our images should grow and evolve with our experiences.  The development of positive, life-giving images that sometimes challenge us is vital as we grow into a mature faith.[3]

So now I turn to you.  Your name does not have to be original or special.  It just has to be yours.  Share with your neighbors around you the name for God that brings you comfort, is what you use when you pray, or is the image that comes from your heart.  Share a sentence for why that image is important to you. 

And also, share an image for God that gives you pause and challenges you, that you wish you were more like.  Share a sentence for why that image may be a growing edge for you.  Let’s take a moment of silence where we all might reflect on what those names are and then begin sharing.  I’ll time it.  Let’s take a minute for reflection and I’ll make Steve promise he won’t play “Jeopardy Theme Music” during that time. 

Take time to share with your neighbors now.

If Hosea is right, our relationship with God is a covenantal relationship, like marriage, that must be forever re-negotiated.  Much like marriage partners, if we are to grow, we must learn what loyalty and love mean each day, each week, and each year in our relationship with God.  Whether we call God “The Dreamer of Dreams,” “The Gentle Friend,” or “Our Host at Table”, what we name God defines our relationship with God and, ultimately, defines who we are.  May we forever pray, worship, and live into a faith that offers us both grace, comfort, and growth so that our love for God and neighbor continues to expand our minds and enlarge our hearts.  Amen.

---

[1] “Interview with Rabbi Sharon Brous,” Speaking of Faith, Krista Tippett, Host, http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2008/daysofawe/transcript.shtml

[2] Janet Schaffran and Pat Kozak, More Than Words:  Prayer and Ritual for Inclusive Communities (New York:  Crossroads Publishing Company, 1986), p. 4.

[3] Ibid, pp. 12-13.

Part 2, A Conversation: The Difference Between Being Prophetic and an Ass

Ok, so I want to make sure I encourage prophets as well as differentiate between what it means to be a prophet and an ass.  I want to reiterate.  Prophets are regularly accused of being asses.  They push on what we might call "civilized" recognizing that what some people call "civilization" is actually violence institutionalized.   So they end up being the "troublers of Israel", the makers of necessary conflict, and the disrupters of normalized injustice.  

I also experience prophets as people who have a little twinkle in their eye about trouble-making.  It's not that they necessarily enjoy the discomfort or disruption they cause; it is more that they are once again amused that the principalities and powers react so predictably.  Prophets know that the weird and broad expanse love of God is often befuddling to the Domination System.  

Sometimes, however, it is not about the love and justice of God.  It's about winning and leaving "your opponent" licking their wounds in the dust.  Intentional shaming is done for one reason and one reason alone:  to show a certain superiority.  Prophets know it is important to win, but victories where the poor are not protected, the vulnerable are not saved, and justice and peace are not established are hollow.  

That is why "wins" can leave the ass jubilant and the prophet depressed.  For the ass is not necessarily in it for the long haul, and the prophet knows that a momentary victory that does not bring about transformation can lead to incredible suffering and death.  The Domination System is snubbed or shamed by some person or movement that revels in a temporary win.  The Domination System shows up with greater numbers, with greater force, and with greater violence to make it clear who is in charge.  The prophet takes evil very seriously.

Based on conjecture by some Jesus scholars, I think that may be the very reason for Jesus turning to non-violence.   Time after time, Jewish people rebelled or thumbed their nose at Rome.  Time after time, Rome showed up with greater numbers, greater force, and employed greater violence.  Just before Jesus' birth, Herod the

Great died and in the power vacuum created, Jewish rebellion broke out in Galilee.  Coming from the north, the Roman general Quinctilius Varus moved in with three Roman legions to squash Jewish resistance.  Roman legions raped and pillaged, pillaged and raped.  Roman legions obliterated two Jewish resistance cities, Emmaus and Sepphoris.  Sepphoris was within eyesight of a small, rural village that was certainly raped and pillaged as well--Nazareth.  

Non-violent movements and resistance pre-dating Jesus actually gained traction without such bloodletting.  Certainly being told what happened to Sepphoris and Emmaus and also being witness to the results of Jewish non-violent actions, Jesus had to know that temporary military victories accomplished far less than non-violent actions.  Or, at least, he may have hoped that non-violent confrontation held open the possibility for transformation.

I do not want you to think I am naive.  Certainly, the Civil Rights Struggle was and is filled with moments when non-violent actions led to the same response from the Domination System.  Non-violent confrontation holds open the possibility for transformation in a way that violence, particularly violent victories, do not.  Non-violent confrontation is the ultimate prophetic action done to hold open the possibility for transformation.  

I am going to brag a bit.  My youngest son often talks about how impractical it is to win an argument if it does not result in transformation.  "What purpose does it serve?" he will ask.  This comes from a young man who gloated quite a bit in high school about the verbal sparring he would do with his classmates.  He would come home and gloat quite a bit about having left someone in the dust with his verbal skill (He was very accomplished in the Extemporaneous Speaker category on Speech Team.).  

There was one day, however, when he recognized that he would be sacrificing a friendship and perhaps a friend if he simply "won" an argument.  He was strongly debating with a Catholic female friend on the abortion issue.  His friend is strongly pro-life.  He is strongly pro-choice.  For some reason, he became aware that his friend might need grace and love if she were ever in the predicament of deciding for an abortion in the near future.  It is not that it changed his view.  It changed how he expressed his view to his friend.  In that moment, I think my youngest son began developing his skills as a prophet and leaving behind his gloating behavior as an "ass." 

Ok, so I'm a proud dad, but will fully admit that he and I both have those "ass" skills flowing within us.  Some of it is that I think prophets have a default "snark" mode within them.  It goes with that twinkle in the eye.  Snark and twinkle are often a part of non-violent confrontation against the Domination System.  They unseat the Domination System with satire.  And the "ass"/satire line is one that is permeable, one of those Celtic thin places.

That is the second difference between what it means to be a prophet and an ass.  2.  The ass is in it to win it.  The prophet is in it for transformation.

A Conversation: The Difference Between Being Prophetic and an Ass

Ask any of my staff at Billings First, and they will tell you that I am a huge fan of Christian writer, Rachel Held Evans.  She writes with a great sense of humor, relevance, humility, and honesty.  She works hard at her craft.  I am not near the writer she is and am profoundly jealous of her writing clarity and the way she seems to have a grasp on the pulse of Christian Church life in North America.  I am also excited by the goodness (as in virtue) of her writing, and how she seems to be growing right before our eyes.  Her writing is bending toward more and more of a theology of liberation.  My assumption is, because our culture bends so against that understanding and life, that when people grow into those understandings, they do so out of a rootedness in something or someOne transcendent.

Recently, I listened into a podcast Rachel was a part of in which she asked the question:  "What is the difference between being prophetic and being an ass?"  She said it so forthrightly that the first time I heard it I laughed and almost cried.  Rarely do I hear such true and important questions asked in church community life.  As I do often with Rachel, I experienced a profound sense of gratitude for putting that question out into the stratosphere.

I want to try and answer that question as best I am able.  At the least, continue the conversation and hope more people weigh in.  I do not claim to be an expert at prophetic speech.  I try my darndest to be faithful in working at it.

First, I think it's important to say that there will be people who forever think you are an ass by being prophetic.  It is much like some strong women who will be called the "b" word just for being outspoken and present.  And it's a fine line that often depends on context.  If there are people's lives at stake that rely on your voice to speak loudly and often to save them or bring the public eye to them, then we should be big and loud asses.

I think part of walking that fine line as a prophet is someone who seeks to widen the circle of kinship.   Father Greg Boyle does a great job describing this.  Rachel does that on a regular basis with the LGBTQ community.  She knows she has evangelical ears and eyes listening to her and reading her material.  I would bet that she also has people in the LGBTQ community who are important to her, near and dear, and she clearly sees it as her task to transform hearts so that the circle is drawn wider and others might see people in the LGBTQ community as kin.  

When one is not speaking prophetically, I have no sense of their kinship.  They are not introducing me to anybody.  They are not in relationship.  It appears to me that someone who speaks as an ass has more interest in being right than they are in building kinship.  When I am an ass, love is not at stake.  I am.

Again, it is often easy to accuse someone of being an ass if they are pushing all of your buttons.

For example, I am sure most people experience me as an "ass" when I share how important inclusive language is to me and to our wider community.  Every time I share, however, I relate that I know my daughter is out there listening.  Every week she hears the "Our Father" without many Sundays with any balance.  It is important because when she was younger, our strong and gifted daughter would argue with Tracy and me that God was certainly a man.  And she made it clear that it had to do with a form of male strength and intelligence over female strength and intelligence.  Repetitive church worship had taught her well.  I want people in my congregations in relationship with this powerful young woman that is my daughter.  After all, we named her Divine Wisdom (i.e., Sophia).

I still remember a pastor of one of our large UCC flagship churches coming to do an informal job interview with me for the Associate Pastor position that I later learned would be about replacing her.  I was honored and more than a little nervous.

Halfway through the conversation, however, she related to me that she was a little upset about a present colleague who had preached against the war with so many veterans within the congregation.  How could he do that?

In a way, I think she was saying, "Part of the role as pastor is recognizing your kinship with your congregation."  I agreed.

I also remember telling her that every time I stand to preach there is a pew reserved for Guatemalan refugees and people struggling for justice in Chiapas.  When I was in those geographical locations, with those people, I made promises to them of who I would be.  What I was trying to say is that I would betray them if I did not acknowledge my kinship with them.

So I remember those people when I sit to type or stand to preach.  As Guatemalan poet, Julia Esquivel might say, "They threaten me with their resurrection."  When I speak or act on immigration, food justice, or free/fair trade, I try to remember them as my kin.  I often do a piss-poor job with that.  So speaking prophetically is also about working on myself to be drawn further and further into relationship so that I speak from a place where my destiny is tied to the destiny of others.

I think that is the definition of kin.  Your destiny must be tied to the destiny of others.  So that even though they may not look like you, be of the same ethnicity, race, or orientation, you risk enough solidarity to be considered kin.  In other words, you are a real sister or brother.  Now the pulpit is yours.

Ok, that's a start.  I want to add as I go along.  How to be prophetic and not an ass: 
 1.  Draw the circle of kinship wider.

Praying the News, September 2, 2014

The Death of a Prophet

One of your prophets has died, Tireless Keeper of Truths, and I worry we have no journalist to replace him.  With great courage, Charles kept telling us how our policies and programs led to greater violence.  He walked right into the maw so that he could tell us the truth.  He did it with such beauty and grace, but he always told us the truth.  So who will step up to tell us future truths?  Who will have the courage, the poetic sensibility, to let us know how the purveyors of violence and destruction gain their footing?  Who, God?  Who will do that?  I pray that he was not one of a kind.  I pray that we may take up where he left off.  Thank you for Charles.  May his heart rest in yours as your heart worked in his.  Amen.

Praying the News, August 21, 2014

Always Killing the Prophets

I realize now why I have been telling every courageous young person to get into journalism.  They may offer our last, best chance--against climate change, militarism, racism, and predatory capitalism.  So don't let me get away with passing along the truth-telling responsibility to another generation.

We talk about the prophetic Word and pretend that it is preached from your pulpits.  But James Foley's death should make clear . . .  In a world where to share the truth of what is going on is met with threats, violence, and death, real journalists are our prophets.  I grieve for James Foley's family.  If salvation is about opening up a space, then let us open up a broad and good space for those journalists who tell the truth about the vanguards of violence, the habitual purveyors of death, the authoritarian bullies.  Do not let us be carried away by the shifty, snake-oil salesmen, the news anchors disguised as cheerleaders.  You are wild and gritty by nature.  Make us free and tough in our search for the truth.  

Make me free and tough . . . and no matter what the cost, a truth-teller.  And I pray that Jesus was wrong.  Do not let Jerusalem kill any more of her prophets.  Amen.