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Showing posts with label The Search Institute. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Search Institute. Show all posts

Friday, January 21, 2022

Sermon: First Sunday of Advent, November 28, 2021, "Mentoring into being souls that magnify the Living God"

C Advent 1 OL Pilg 2021
Isaiah 56:1-7; 60:1-3, 17b-22; Luke 1:39-56
November 28, 2021

 

          Charles Koch was the Boy Scout leader with my father when I was stuck on a badge that I just could not get.  Though I tried and tried, the information would not stay in my head.  So I made a cheat sheet.  And when my father asked me the questions, I thought real hard, pressing my temples to indicate my deep concentration, dropped my head to my feet under the table where my pre-recorded answers had been carefully placed.  Immediately after I beat the odds and secured the badge, Charles Koch took me aside and said, “Mike, I saw what you did and that is not who you are.  I’m not going to tell your dad.  But you do not need to cheat like that.  Don’t do it again.”  In his own gentle admonishment, Charles Koch held me accountable in a way my parents never could and modeled for me character I’ve never forgotten.

          Mrs. Stieglitz, a 2nd grade teacher at the local school who was not my homeroom teacher and not even one of the members of my local church, but she sent me a birthday card every year to let me know I was loved and cared for by people who were not my parents.

My local church pastor, Rev. Kenneth Roedder, walked into Sunday School class while I slumped in the oversized chair in the youth room.  “Mike,” he said, “I was so proud of you out there.” 

“What?” I said in disbelief.  My dad, my high school baseball coach, had been harangued enough by my mother to put me in two successive games with the score tied and the bases loaded.  No lie.  Each time I had given up a grand slam home run.  “What?  Rev, I gave up two grand slam home runs out there.  Two in the same week!”

“I know, Mike, and I was so proud of you because after those home runs were hit, you didn’t give up.”  That was one of the first days I remember thinking that maybe God did not think like I thought, that God’s eyes were different than mine.  Rev. Roedder told me something my parents never could and reminded me that he had character values far deeper than wins and losses.

  The Search Institute has been an organization that for over 60 years has been listening to young people to determine what makes for their healthy growth and development.   In so doing, The Search Institute developed an understanding of what makes for healthy adolescent life.  What they found is that the number one indicator for healthy adolescent life were adult relationships, other than a young person’s parents, who express care, challenge growth, provide support, share power, and expand their possibilities.  The Search Institute referred to these adult relationships as developmental relationships.  I have made copies of a publication from The Search Institute that details what it means to have developmental relationships with young people.  And the 40 Development Assets considered necessary for children ages 8-12 are also available.[1] 

          I think developmental relationships are a big part of what it means to be church, a community of people who come together out of a strong sense that our journeys inform one another, feed one another, nurture one another, give life to one another, even hold one another accountable.   Somewhere along the way, a huge shift occurred where the Christian Church became obsessed about belief over and against action and practice.  What that translated to with our children and youth was getting them to believe all the right things rather than mentoring them into adulthood by the way we express care, challenge growth, provide support, share power, and help them expand their possibilities.

         The Search Institute relates that young people have a better chance for a healthy adolescence if they receive support from three or more non-parent adults.  My life is certainly a testimony to this truth.  Boy Scout leaders, public school teachers, my local church pastor, and church members all provided support for me in a way that my parents just could not have done so.  Because if part of growing up is necessarily showing your parents and the world that you are growing into the full independence and maturity, there is certain advice you just cannot hear, certain support you just cannot receive, and certain roads you cannot travel just to prove you are not your parents.  It is critical that there are a community of voices, a diverse group of experiences, and several different models of a faithful life so that our young people might see all the faithful choices that are available to them.

          To acknowledge this truth, that we are not self-made, that a healthy adolescent life requires a community of people to surround and support us, is such a strongly counter-cultural statement in a country where we are forever crafting government policy based on the silly notion that we make it on our own. 

And this mentorship is found in our Scripture verse for today.  The Bible knows none of this nonsense about the faithful hero or heroine who makes it on their own.  The young girl, Mary, perhaps 12 or 13 years old, learns by the angel Gabriel that she will conceive a son and give birth to a promised child.  Immediately, Mary runs with haste to hear the wisdom of her older cousin Elizabeth.  Families in ancient Judaism were probably much more like our Native American sisters and brothers, siblings and cousins, who have an extended understanding of family than the nuclear practice European immigrant culture has come to define as family.  Mary needs help translating the activity of God in her life.  She needs a mentor to help her translate the meaning of all this in her life.  And rather than dismissing Mary’s wild telling and translation out of hand or telling Mary she is crazy, Elizabeth affirms Mary’s experience and asks questions herself--so that they might both wonder together what is happening in their age. 

What a gift this is to young people when they come across a mentor who affirms their experience, who does not answer all their questions for them, but joins with them in asking questions of deep meaning in which they both may immerse themselves in wonder, curiosity, and reflection.  Elizabeth asks, affirming Mary, “Why do I have this honor that the mother of my Lord may come to visit me?”  Immediately, Mary breaks into a song of liberation, an acknowledgment of how God’s justice breaks forward in the world when we can affirm the power we see displayed in our young people.  In so doing, Mary is able to affirm the story of how God has acted in accordance with the truths known by her ancestors.  Elizabeth affirms Mary.  Mary, in return, affirms the Jewish God of justice, defender of the poor, the lion of Judah, who roars against the rich. 

Harvard Graduate School professor, Robert Kegan, writes of meaning-making as a lifelong process that begins by rightly going from one pole of independence to another pole in dependence, back and forth, growing in depth.  This lifelong process is about a tension between how we are connected, attached, and included on the one hand and how we are distinct, autonomous, and independent on the other.  Growth only happens in meaning-making, Kegan believes, from a safe place, what Kegan references as a place of embeddedness.   In these places of embeddedness, a crisis in meaning can lead to new discovery and growth.  And the ultimate depth in meaning-making is found when a person can hold being connected in full tension with being independent.  When that balance and tension is held, a person knows themselves to be interdependent.[2]

What is meaning-making if not the journey of an individual in faith, a community of people tied together by common stories and myths that transcend generations?

As I read the story of Mary of Nazareth and her older cousin, Elizabeth, I see a teenager who is brought to a crisis in faith by events that call upon her to do something far beyond her years.  To meet this challenge, Mary turns to a trusted adult and mentor who is not her parents.  Elizabeth helps her understand herself as not only belonging to a tradition in which she is embedded but also reminds her that God would indeed single her out for a courageous call to imagine the possibilities for her own life.  

Mary remains with Elizabeth for the first few months of her pregnancy as a safe place for a young woman living out a courageous call.  Where we have often missed out in the telling of this story is not recognizing that all of our young people are waiting to hear that God calls them to a depth of growth in interdependence and courage.  Mary of Nazareth ends up being the place, person, and mentor--the place of embeddedness--for a son who grows in interdependence and courage.

Most often, however, as The Search Institute indicates, adults other than a child’s parents are necessary for a healthy adolescence that leads to their growth in meaning-making.  Today we gave three powerful girls family story Bibles as a way of saying we are invested in their lives.  In a couple weeks, we will do the same for two other powerful girls.  What we might find, in bringing the generations together in this way, is that our children, in return, might speak courageously in a way that helps us to move to an even deeper place of meaning-making. 

But this task is before all of us beyond giving children Bibles.  We should be seeking ways we can all be mentors or call upon mentors within the faith community.  We are all called to be church.  If the church looks like us and serves only us every Sunday, then we have fashioned God into our image. 

The Search Institute offers practical ways we all might take action to mentor children we see in our wider communities, in our faith communities, particularly during this time of Co-Vid.  First, ask what they are doing at home as a result of the pandemic.  How are they being creative?  Ask them what kind of goals they have set for themselves during this difficult time?  Tell them you believe in them and that life involves risking and sometimes failing.  Ask them how they feel about things in the world right now.  Really listen to them and let them know you really do want to hear what they think.  As a church, let’s find ways they can contribute to the church and lead out in significant ways.  Finally, during this time of Co-Vid, ask them to find ways other children are being creative during Co-Vid, what people in other cultures are doing creatively.[3]  Imagine these five girls always looking back on this time when they knew they were held and grew in love. 

This is the challenge of what it means to be church—that we might provide mentorship and a place of embeddedness so that every generation might speak courageously of God’s activity in the world.  Our young people face challenges in the world like no other generation before them.  They need us—to let them know that preceding generations found ways to walk a faithful path, to grow and evolve as the earth itself faced annihilation, to overcome when violence and war threatened to divide and destroy us.  We might be very surprised then to turn around and see God acting through them to speak with a strong voice, getting connected, and moving in the world with courage. 

Advent begins at a time of night . . . at midnight . . . when all the hope has been drained out of the world.  In our present age, pandemic, climate change, and the worship of violence and death can make us wonder whether God is at work.  Our children need mentors who, in faith, expand possibilities.  And so I leave you with the beautiful poem written by Puerto Rican poet, Aurora Levins Morales, one of the Elizabeths of the world. 

She titles this poem, “Va’havta,” translated literally from the Hebrew, “and you shall love . . .” a reference to Deuteronomy, Chapter 6, verse 5, “and you shall love the Living God, your God with all your heart, soul, and might.”  Va’havta:

 

Say these words when you lie down and when you rise up,

when you go out and when you return. In times of mourning

and in times of joy. Inscribe them on your doorposts,

embroider them on your garments, tattoo them on your shoulders,

teach them to your children, your neighbors, your enemies,

recite them in your sleep, here in the cruel shadow of empire:

Another world is possible.

 

Thus spoke the prophet Roque Dalton:

All together they have more death than we,

but all together, we have more life than they.

There is more bloody death in their hands

than we could ever wield, unless

we lay down our souls to become them,

and then we will lose everything. So instead,

 

imagine winning. This is your sacred task.

This is your power. Imagine

every detail of winning, the exact smell of the summer streets

in which no one has been shot, the muscles you have never

unclenched from worry, gone soft as newborn skin,

the sparkling taste of food when we know

that no one on earth is hungry, that the beggars are fed,

that the old man under the bridge and the woman

wrapping herself in thin sheets in the back seat of a car,

and the children who suck on stones,

nest under a flock of roofs that keep multiplying their shelter.

Lean with all your being towards that day

when the poor of the world shake down a rain of good fortune

out of the heavy clouds, and justice rolls down like waters.

 

Defend the world in which we win as if it were your child.

It is your child.

Defend it as if it were your lover.

It is your lover.

 

When you inhale and when you exhale

breathe the possibility of another world

into the 37.2 trillion cells of your body

until it shines with hope.

Then imagine more.

 

Imagine rape is unimaginable. Imagine war is a scarcely credible rumor

That the crimes of our age, the grotesque inhumanities of greed,

the sheer and astounding shamelessness of it, the vast fortunes

made by stealing lives, the horrible normalcy it came to have,

is unimaginable to our heirs, the generations of the free.

 

Don’t waver. Don’t let despair sink its sharp teeth

Into the throat with which you sing. Escalate your dreams.

Make them burn so fiercely that you can follow them down

any dark alleyway of history and not lose your way.

Make them burn clear as a starry drinking gourd

Over the grim fog of exhaustion, and keep walking.

 

Hold hands. Share water. Keep imagining.

So that we, and the children of our children’s children

may live[4]

 

I think that is such a beautiful poem, one I knew I had to share when we presented Bibles to these young girls.  Because it is my most fervent wish that we will help them to know the Heart of the Living God, expand their possibilities, and  mentor all of them into saying, “May my soul magnify the Living God.”  May it be so.  Amen.



[2] Robert Kegan,  Evolving Self:  Problem and Process in Human Development (Boston:  Harvard University Press, 1983).

[4] Aurora Levins Morales, “V'ahavta,” Aurora Levins Morales, July 25, 2016, http://www.auroralevinsmorales.com/blog/vahavta

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 3, 2017, "Love the folks in front of you"

A Proper 17 22 Ord BFC 2017
Romans 12:1-8
September 3, 2017

        One of the worst days of my life happened almost 12 years ago.  In the same week it was decided that I would not have residential custody of my two boys, Jacob and Abraham, I would have to load my car up to travel to my new pastorate in North Hampton, New Hampshire.  For the two days it took me to travel from Wichita, Kansas, to the seacoast of New Hampshire, I cried almost the whole way, pounding the wheel of my car, and hoping against hope that I could and would still be their father. 
I sometimes had a rough go of it North Hampton, New Hampshire.  I followed a pastor of twenty-two years with no real interim in a very conservative part of the world.  As any pastor can attest to following a “golden age” pastorate, everything you do in those situations is compared to your predecessor.  In the midst of so much conflict, however, there were a number of people who looked out for me and spent a great deal of time finding out what mattered to me and how they could minister to me.  In fact, the easiest part of that ministry was during the summer when the boys would arrive and the church and the community would embrace the boys far more than we could ever hope or imagine.
I know I say difficult things, and I’m not so naïve as to think that everyone can love me.  But I cannot stay long in a place where I have to fight a congregation to love my kids.
 When the boys were younger, and we would live in Urbana, Illinois, Tracy and I would sometimes travel to Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin, to return our two boys, to their mother and step-dad.  It was always painful.  I would drag their pillows into my room so I could still smell them, still think of them as with me.  And I would always, always have to have a good cry.  Those experiences reminded me that we were not the only cocoon in which our boys lived and grew.  They also lived and grew in the cocoon which is the home of their mom and step-dad.  They lived and grew in the cocoon which was Elkhart-Lake Glenbeulah Community Grade School and High School.  They lived and grew under the watchful eye of a paternal grandfather who became dear to them.  Throughout the years, Jacob and Abraham and Sophia have had to live and grow in cocoons several communities have provided them, Sophia now in the cocoon which is this church, Billings First Congregational Church, Billings Senior High, and NOVA Center for the Performing Arts. 
  And I am thankful, grateful, and discovering that many of us are learning what it means to live and love in blended or unique families.  This church community is important to my adolescent daughter because the Search Institute, an independent nonprofit organization that does research to provide resources for healthy communities, asserts that one of the greatest indicators for an adolescent to have a safe passage into adulthood is the number of non-parent adults who are involved in their lives through that passage.[1]
Beyond our children, part of what we promise to the many families and communities that send children, youth, and young adults our way is that we will be a cocoon for these gifts, these Children of God, as they learn to live and love in Billings and at Billings First Congregational Church. 
Family is no longer the most basic element of human connection for many of us.  Perhaps it never was and we, romantically, tried to make it so.   My brother lives in Denver, my oldest sister lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, and my youngest sister lives in my hometown of Metamora.  I will never build a local neighborhood, a community, a church with brother or sisters.  If I am to build a neighborhood, a community, a church, I will have to do that with the people who are given to me.  I believe Christian teaching suggests that the most basic element of human connection is community.
Christina Baldwin is the author of a book titled Calling the Circle.   Calling the Circle is a recognition that loving and growing community life does not happen by chance.  Baldwin believes loving and growing community happens when we learn one another’s stories.  It is rough and tumble.  It is not easy.  She writes, “The purpose of life is not personal comfort; it’s to grow the soul.”[2]   After reading Baldwin’s book, Calling the Circle, I decided to read one of her other books titled, The Seven Whispers:  Listening to the Voice of the Spirit.[3]  One of the seven whispers Baldwin believes we need to hear in our daily life is to “Love the folks in front of you.”  That seems like such a simple notion.  I even found myself rebelling against the chapter without having read it because I thought it would cut against the grain of the values I hold for world mission.
“Love the folks in front of you”, however, is not about forgetting the world to love your family and friends.  This whisper is about taking responsibility for where we are planted.  Though I realize how thankful I am for the people who offer this to me and my family, I am not so good at following through on it myself.   I find myself wishing my family would move back, pining in love for friends I wish were closer, and church members who would travel to be with me in this new church community so they could tell you how great I am (After all, you can fool some of the people some of the time.).  Loving the folks in front of you reminds us all to look for the blessings we receive from the folks who are with us in pre-school, class, work, the neighborhood and for us to share our blessings and gifts in return with these folk.
The scripture verse read for us today reminded me that the early church was struggling with that very issue.  Economics, oppression, natural disaster, and war had broken down the family unit.  This passage is reminiscent of passages from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, that seaport city where Rome would routinely dump conquered people after conquered people.  Into that deeply fractured, rootless, and hopeless circumstance, Paul counsels them to especially love the weakest and most vulnerable but to also recognize the spiritual gifts God has given them all in their profound diversity.  What Jesus commands and Paul restates in Romans is to remember the qualities of love and love the folks in front of you.  Help each other out financially, give hospitality to one another, rejoice at each other’s triumphs, weep when one of you has spilled out their guts.  Live in harmony and mutuality.  Don’t look for payback, but overcome evil with good.  If Jesus and Paul tell this to family and friends that already love one another, all they offer is sentimental platitudes.
I think the gospel message had more grit than sentimental platitudes.  Jesus and Paul do not tell that to people who already love one another.  They say that to a group of people who are looking around the table wondering why that tax collector or that prostitute or, hey, hey, did someone say that Gentile or Galatian, barbarian or savage was welcome here?  Yeah?  That’s, like, the whole project, Paul believes.  Creating community among the conquered is what Paul’s letters to the Corinthians are all about.  Yes, mish-mash and diversity of First Century Rome may yearn for family and homeland, but the reality was that they were going to need to make community for themselves in their new  villages, cities, and faith communities. 
Love the folk in front of you.  Isn’t that one of the hardest things for a church in our day and age to do?   Churches used to be filled with many of our own family members!  Even today, I must run into one person or family a week who remarks, “Oh, we used to go or our family used to go to your church!”  (yearning) We pine for those friends who no longer attend or have left town and think of them more as our church than the people we see in church now!  Many of us feel it.  (dreamily) After all, something feels right with the world when those people, remembering a “fairer time” return to church, (sigh) all gathered in one pew, on Christmas Eve, Palm Sunday, or Easter Day!  We feel all warm and fuzzy!  They’re back! And they loved it!  Maybe they’re back for good, maybe (in disappointment). . . oh, they’re not coming.
But you see, there are people in this congregation right now whom God has given us, these people, who are hoping, praying, begging that this is the community who will love the folk in front of them.  There are young adults who want to feel blessed and trying out what it means to be leaders, lesbian mothers who want to know their kids are treasured, people who are in pain who need a place to tell their story. 
Here is this good news.  Where I see this happening in our church and community life, and it is happening here in profound ways, I see the Empire of Heaven being pieced together, the Beloved Community midwifed, a community growing into the playful and loving delight of working together in God’s garden.  As we begin another school year, another year of church activity, let us begin to nurture neighborhoods, communities, this church by loving the folks in front of us.  Amen.



[1] See the 40 Developmental Asset lists for all ages at http://www.search-institute.org/downloads/
[2] Christina Baldwin, The Seven Whispers:  A Spiritual Practice for Times Like These (New World Library, 2002).
[3] Christina Baldwin, The Seven Whispers:  Listening to the Voices of the Spirit (New World Library 2002)

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Sermon for Year C, First Sunday of Advent, November 29, 2015

C Advent 1 OL BFC 2015
Isaiah 56:1-7; Luke 1:39-56
November 29, 2015

          Charles Koch was the Boy Scout leader with my father when I was stuck on a badge that I just could not get.  Though I tried and tried, the information would not stay in my head.  So I made a cheat sheet.  And when my father asked me the questions, I thought real hard, pressing my temples in concentration,  dropping my head to my feet under the table where my pre-recorded answers had been carefully placed.  Immediately after I beat the odds and secured the badge, Charles Koch took me aside and said, “Mike, I saw what you did and that is not who you are.  I’m not going to tell your dad.  But you do not need to cheat like that.  Don’t do it again.”  In his own gentle admonishment, Charles Koch held me accountable in a way my parents never could.
          Mrs. Stieglitz, a 2nd grade teacher at the local school who was not my homeroom teacher but one of the members of my church, sent me a birthday card every year to let me know I was loved and cared for by people who were not my parents.
My local church pastor, Rev. Kenneth Roedder, walked into Sunday School class while I slumped in the oversized chair in the youth room.  “Mike,” he said, “I was so proud of you out there.” 
“What?” I said in disbelief.  My dad, my high school baseball coach, had been harangued enough by my mother to put me in a game that he brought me into two games that week with the bases loaded.  Each time I had given up a grand slam home run.  “What?  Rev, I gave up two grand slam home runs out there.  Two in the same week!”
“I know, Mike, and I was so proud of you because after those home runs were hit, you didn’t give up.”  That was one of the first days I remember thinking that maybe God did not think like I thought, that God’s eyes were different than mine.  Rev. Roedder told me something my parents never could.
  The Search Institute has been an organization that for the past 50 years has been listening to young people to determine what makes for their healthy growth and development.   In so doing, The Search Institute has developed a list of 40 assets that make for a healthy adolescent life.  I have made copies of the whole list and placed it out on the narthex table for you to take home with you if you would like to reflect on those internal and external assets that can mean so much to a young person’s life.[1] 
          I want to reflect on one of the external assets found in that list because I think it relates what it means to be church, a community of people who come together out of a strong sense that our journeys inform one another, feed one another, nurture one another, give life to one another, even hold one another accountable.  I almost used the words “strong belief” but a shared sense of belief is not what the progressive Christian church is about.  As I shared last week in Adult Forum, the early Christian Church was not about right or shared belief but about right or shared practice and action.  Somewhere along the way, a huge shift occurred where the Christian Church became obsessed about belief over and against action and practice.  Ok, long explanation.
          The one external asset for a healthy adolescence I want to focus on is “other adult relationships.”  The Search Institute relates that young people have a better chance for a healthy adolescence if they receive support from three or more nonparent adults.  My life is certainly a testimony to this truth.  Boy Scout leaders, public school teachers, my local church pastor and church members all provided support for me in a way that my parents just could not have done so.  Because if part of growing up is necessarily showing your parents and the world that you are growing into the full independence and maturity, there is certain advice you just cannot hear, certain support you just cannot receive, and certain roads you cannot travel just to prove you are not your parents.  So it is critical that there are a community of voices, a diverse group of experiences, and several different models of a faithful life so that our young people might see all the faithful choices that are available to them.
          To acknowledge this truth, that we are not self-made, that in particular a healthy adolescent life requires a community of people to surround and support us,  is such a strongly counter-cultural statement in a country where we are forever crafting government policy based on the silly notion that we make it on our own. 
And it is found in our Scripture verse for today.  The Bible knows none of this nonsense about the faithful hero or heroine who makes it on their own.  The young girl, Mary, perhaps 12 or 13 years old, learns by the angel Gabriel that she will conceive a son and give birth to a promised child.  Immediately, Mary runs with haste to hear the wisdom of her older cousin Elizabeth.  Families in ancient Judaism were probably much more like our Native American sisters and brothers who have a much more extended understanding of family than the nuclear one white European immigrant culture has come to define as family.  Mary needs help translating the activity of God in her life.  She needs a mentor to help her translate the meaning of all this in her life.  And rather than dismissing Mary’s wild telling and translation out of hand or telling Mary she is crazy, Elizabeth affirms Mary’s experience and asks questions herself--so that they might both wonder together what is happening in their age. 
What a gift this is to young people when they come across a mentor who affirms their experience, who does not answer all their questions for them, but joins with them in asking questions of deep meaning in which they both may immerse themselves in wonder, curiosity, and reflection.  Elizabeth asks, affirming Mary, “Why do I have this honor that the mother of my Lord may come to visit me?”  Immediately, Mary breaks into a song of liberation, an acknowledgment of how God’s justice breaks forward in the world when we can affirm the power we see displayed in our young people.  In so doing, Mary is able to affirm the story of how God has acted in accordance with the truths known by her ancestors.  Elizabeth affirms Mary.  Mary, in return, affirms the Jewish God of justice, defender of the poor, the lion of Judah, who roars against the rich. 
Harvard Graduate School professor, Robert Kegan, writes of meaning-making as a lifelong process that begins by rightly going from one pole of independence to another pole in dependence, back and forth, growing in depth.  This lifelong process is about a tension between how we are connected, attached, and included on the one hand and how we are distinct, autonomous, and independent on the other.  Growth only happens in meaning-making, Kegan believes, from a safe place, what Kegan references as a place of embeddedness.   In these places of embeddedness, a crisis in meaning can lead to new discovery and growth.  And the ultimate depth in meaning-making is found when a person can hold being connected in full tension with being independent—a person knows themselves to be interdependent.[2] 
What is meaning-making if not the journey of an individual in faith, a community of people tied together by common stories and myths that transcend generations?
As I read the story of Mary of Nazareth and her older cousin Elizabeth, I see a teenager who is brought to a crisis in faith by events that call upon her to do something far beyond her years.  As a result, she turns to a trusted adult and mentor who helps her to understand herself as not only belonging to a tradition in which she is embedded but also that God would indeed single her out for a courageous call.  Mary remains with Elizabeth for the first few months of her pregnancy as a safe place for a young woman living out a courageous call. Where we have missed out in the telling of this story is not to recognize that all of our young people are waiting to hear that God calls them to a depth of growth in interdependence and courage.  Mary of Nazareth is the place, person, and mentor, the place of embeddedness for a son who grows in interdependence and courage. 
Most often, however, as The Search Institute indicates, adults other than a teen’s parents are necessary for a healthy adolescence that leads to their growth in meaning-making.  Next month Kim Harris, Rev. Steve Gordon, and I will begin a new confirmation program at this church.  This program is based in the assumption that our young people, our teens, need you as mentors to their meaning-making in this world . . . so that they might be the courageous people God intends them to be.  What we might find, in bringing the generations together in this way, is that our teens, in return, might speak courageously in a way that helps us to move to an even deeper place of meaning-making. 
But this task is before all of us beyond a confirmation process.  We should be seeking ways we can all be mentors or call upon mentors within the faith community.  We are all called to be church.  If the church looks like us and serves only us every Sunday, then we have fashioned God into our image. 
The Search Institute offers practical ways we all might take action to mentor adolescent youth we see in our wider communities, in our faith communities.  First, swap a CD or an mp3 player with a teen.  Listen to the music together if you can and share with each other why you enjoy or pick that music.  Or . . . find a gourmet goodie buddy.  Bake brownies, cookies, or other treats with a young person as a fun way to spend time with one another.  Third, send cards or emails to a young person you know to mark holidays, birthdays, or other important milestones in their lives.  Fourth, invite a young friend to till, plant, or tend a garden patch with you as a way of spending time with them.  In this weather, maybe create a container garden with potted plants.  And the Search Institute recommends that parents and young people actively look for mentors to help take some pressure off of a very often high pressure life.  Maybe it’s someone who shares a passion of theirs?  A colleague?  A music teacher?  An employer?[3]
This is the challenge of what it means to be church—that we might provide mentorship and a place of embeddedness so that every generation might speak courageously of God’s activity in the world.  Our young people face challenges in the world like no other generation before them.  They need us—to let them know that preceding generations found ways to walk a faithful path, to grow and evolve as the earth itself faced annihilation, to overcome when violence and war threatened to divide and destroy us.  We might be very surprised then to turn around and see God acting through them to speak with a strong voice, getting connected, and moving in the world with courage.  May all of our souls magnify the Living God.  Amen.




[1]Search Institute, “40 Developmental Assets for Adolescents,”  http://www.search-institute.org/content/40-developmental-assets-adolescents-ages-12-18#.
[2] Robert Kegan,  Evolving Self:  Problem and Process in Human Development (Boston:  Harvard University Press, 1983).
[3] The Search Institute, “40 Developmental.”

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

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