Saints…In Spite of Everything
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
1 Kings 19:1-18 – 5 November 2017

I don’t know about you but I am somewhat ambivalent about Day

Light Savings Time! When I walk in the mornings lately, it has been dark. With the change, it will be dark when I head home at the end of the day. The choice is: do we want our dark in the morning or at night?

We are entering the dark time of the year. The days are shorter.  Winter looms. Advent is right around the corner. This is a difficult time for many people – this time when the world darkens. If we are sad or grieving or in despair over the state of our world, this darkening season can be difficult as it seems to accentuate our moods. A poet reminds us that we should take this season slowly. She urges us to:

Go slow
if you can.
Slower.
More slowly still.
Friendly dark
or fearsome,
this is no place to break your neck
by rushing,
by running,
by crashing into
what you cannot see.   (Jan Richardson)

The story of the prophet Elijah is, in a way, a story about facing darkness. The prophet appears rather abruptly on the scene. We don’t learn too much about him. He simply appears one day in order to deliver bad news: “Now Elijah the Tishbite of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, ‘As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word”. (1Kings 17:1)

Elijah shows up to deliver bad news – there will be a drought…a devastating drought, as it turns out. To end the drought, Elijah arranges for a contest between the God of Israel and Baal, the god of Ahab’s queen – Jezebel. One day, up on the top of Mt. Carmel, a giant bonfire is built and sacrifices are prepared.  The god who delivers the fire will be the true god. The prophets of Baal try and try. They cry and cry to their god. Nothing happens. Finally, the prophet Elijah calls to his God: “O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your bidding. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so that this people may know that you, O Lord, are God and that you have turned their hearts back.” (18:36-37)

At that moment, the fire of God falls and burns up everything. The prophets of Baal are annihilated. Elijah should feel pretty efficacious, right? Elijah should feel successful. Elijah should feel powerful. We should all be able to do something so dramatically victorious in our lives!

I will admit it: I do not like to feel ineffective. I am not good at asking for help. Yesterday was not a good day for me. The downstairs toilet was running. After consulting my son in law, I bought a new flapper, thought I had installed it correctly only to have the toilet run worse. When I went to get ready to go out, I discovered I had no hot water and I do not know how to fix that. The chimney repair people told me I had a dead animal in the basement coal shoot. I simply do not want to fix that by myself. I do not like to feel like I can’t do things so yesterday was a bad day. I figure Elijah, man, didn’t he have a great day up there on Mt. Carmel? Shouldn’t he have felt proud of his accomplishments?

However, when Elijah learns that Queen Jezebel is not only unhappy about what has happened, but out to get Elijah, he runs away. He is afraid. He gets up and runs for his life. In fact, he seeks refuge in Judah – to the south – where he comes to a broom tree and sits down and prays: “It’s enough God. It’s enough. Take away my life. I am no better than my ancestors.” (19:4) Elijah goes to sleep, which is what many of us do when we are depressed and sad, right? We get in bed and pull the covers up and we sleep.

An angel shows up and shakes Elijah awake and says: “Get up and eat.” Maybe this angel looks a little bit like our mothers – just a little bit like our Italian or Jewish or wherever they are from – are not our mothers all the same – standing their shaking us – saying “you gotta eat! You gotta get up! Look I made chicken noodle soup”! And, so to humor the angel mother, Elijah eats what is provided and goes right back to sleep! The angel shakes him again.  She tells him, again, to eat some more. You gotta eat if you are going to keep going. This time Elijah figures there is no way around this so he eats and he gets up and he starts walking. Forty days and forty nights he walks. Forty days and forty nights is code, by the way, for wilderness. Elijah is in the wilderness. Elijah is in the dark night of his soul. Elijah is facing the dark.

Finally, he comes to a cave where he spends the night. No broom trees this time. Maybe angels don’t like the dark. Maybe angels can’t bother him if he is hiding out in a cave.

Guess what? The word of God comes to Elijah…even in a cave, even where no one can find him. The word of God shows up and says: What are you doing here, Elijah?

Elijah, God Bless him, points out that he’s been a good prophet, darn it! He’s been very zealous for God. He’s preached the best he can. He prayed and you answered and showed those Baal worshippers a thing or two. But despite everything he’s done, he is alone. The people – they don’t care. Now, if I am  honest, every preacher, recognizes Elijah’s complaint: “We visited them when they were sick. We preached our hearts out. We started a praise band. We knocked ourselves out on Sunday mornings. Still they don’t show up. Giving is down. Attendance is down. It doesn’t seem to matter what we do. The church is dying.”

God doesn’t have it. That is how I read this passage. God ain’t gonna listen to Elijah’s pity party. Get up God says, get out of the cave because I am going to pass by!

It does not seem that Elijah moves from his dark hiding place. There is a great wind outside – so strong it splits the mountains and the rocks. There is a earthquake. There is a fire. However, it doesn’t prompt Elijah to come out of his cave.

After all the pyrotechnics, there is nothing but silence whereupon Elijah wraps his cloak around him and goes out and stands in front of the cave. He hears the voice again asking him: What the heck are you doing here Elijah? And once again, Elijah answers: I’ve done my best. I’ve done it all for you. And still they are out to get me. I am alone in this business.

This time God responds by telling Elijah to get up and go – you gotta leave the cave. You gotta go to the wilderness. The wilderness, it seems, is where it all happens. In the wilderness, you will find partners. In the wilderness, the faithful are waiting. In the wilderness…that’s where the church is!

Saints, I want to say, are those who somehow find their way out of the dark times, and simply keep on keeping on. Yes, Elijah lived in a dark time. His people were fickle. They came to church occasionally and then flocked right back to Baal. The country was corrupt. Ahab would never amount to much of anything. Why, it is enough to make you want to crawl right in that cave!

And, there…precisely in the cave, in the dark places of our lives, is where we hear God. Not in the earthquakes or in the fire, or in those moments in our lives when we feel victorious and great. No. God is there in the silence. In the darkness. When we try to run away. Despite everything. God is there. Telling us what to do – get up. Go. Face the wilderness. You won’t be alone.

I am thinking that there are a lot of people these days who feel alone. I think there are a lot of people in our country who feel despair. I think there are a lot of people who just want to crawl in a cave and hide there until it is all over.

When I remember the saints we celebrate today, I remember the stories they told me and I remember the stories especially about the dark times in their lives – when their husband died, when they had to face illness, when they struggled with loneliness, in one case, when their child wasn’t there for them, when they grew up orphaned, when they realized that they were dying and questioned their faith. Edith and Luckye and Russ and Marge and Peg and Audrey – all had times in their lives when they felt like they were hiding out in a dark cave. However, I would suggest that all of them are examples to us of perseverance and of going where God asked them to go…despite everything. Luckye – who had more lives than a cat and who could laugh right up to the end. Edith whose own setbacks only made her more considerate of others. Peg who lived with fierce determination to dance at every wedding. Marge who knew she was dying but who courageously asked questions about what happens when we die and whose grace never faded. Audrey who was ever the capable one and who made wherever she was home. Russ – the caring brother who faced lengthy illnesses with humor and gentle endurance.

So. Maybe it isn’t so much the miracles we perform, or our spectacularly brave accomplishments or the fact that our hit won the World Series. Maybe it is simply daring to get up, to go, to walk out of the cave and to always listen for God’s direction in our lives. Maybe that is what makes saints out of us…despite everything!

 

Saints…In Spite of Everything
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
1 Kings 19:1-18 – 5 November 2017

I don’t know about you but I am somewhat ambivalent about Day Light Savings Time! When I walk in the mornings lately, it has been dark. With the change, it will be dark when I head home at the end of the day. The choice is: do we want our dark in the morning or at night?

We are entering the dark time of the year. The days are shorter.  Winter looms. Advent is right around the corner. This is a difficult time for many people – this time when the world darkens. If we are sad or grieving or in despair over the state of our world, this darkening season can be difficult as it seems to accentuate our moods. A poet reminds us that we should take this season slowly. She urges us to:

Go slow
if you can.
Slower.
More slowly still.
Friendly dark
or fearsome,
this is no place to break your neck
by rushing,
by running,
by crashing into
what you cannot see.   (Jan Richardson)

The story of the prophet Elijah is, in a way, a story about facing darkness. The prophet appears rather abruptly on the scene. We don’t learn too much about him. He simply appears one day in order to deliver bad news: “Now Elijah the Tishbite of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, ‘As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word”. (1 Kings 17:1)

Elijah shows up to deliver bad news – there will be a drought…a devastating drought, as it turns out. To end the drought, Elijah arranges for a contest between the God of Israel and Baal, the god of Ahab’s queen – Jezebel. One day, up on the top of Mt. Carmel, a giant bonfire is built and sacrifices are prepared.  The god who delivers the fire will be the true god. The prophets of Baal try and try. They cry and cry to their god. Nothing happens. Finally, the prophet Elijah calls to his God: “O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your bidding. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so that this people may know that you, O Lord, are God and that you have turned their hearts back.” (18:36-37)

At that moment, the fire of God falls and burns up everything. The prophets of Baal are annihilated. Elijah should feel pretty efficacious, right? Elijah should feel successful. Elijah should feel powerful. We should all be able to do something so dramatically victorious in our lives!

I will admit it: I do not like to feel ineffective. I am not good at asking for help. Yesterday was not a good day for me. The downstairs toilet was running. After consulting my son in law, I bought a new flapper, thought I had installed it correctly only to have the toilet run worse. When I went to get ready to go out, I discovered I had no hot water and I do not know how to fix that. The chimney repair people told me I had a dead animal in the basement coal shoot. I simply do not want to fix that by myself. I do not like to feel like I can’t do things so yesterday was a bad day. I figure Elijah, man, didn’t he have a great day up there on Mt. Carmel? Shouldn’t he have felt proud of his accomplishments?

However, when Elijah learns that Queen Jezebel is not only unhappy about what has happened, but out to get Elijah, he runs away. He is afraid. He gets up and runs for his life. In fact, he seeks refuge in Judah – to the south – where he comes to a broom tree and sits down and prays: “It’s enough God. It’s enough. Take away my life. I am no better than my ancestors.” (19:4) Elijah goes to sleep, which is what many of us do when we are depressed and sad, right? We get in bed and pull the covers up and we sleep.

An angel shows up and shakes Elijah awake and says: “Get up and eat.” Maybe this angel looks a little bit like our mothers – just a little bit like our Italian or Jewish or wherever they are from – are not our mothers all the same – standing their shaking us – saying “you gotta eat! You gotta get up! Look I made chicken noodle soup”! And, so to humor the angel mother, Elijah eats what is provided and goes right back to sleep! The angel shakes him again.  She tells him, again, to eat some more. You gotta eat if you are going to keep going. This time Elijah figures there is no way around this so he eats and he gets up and he starts walking. Forty days and forty nights he walks. Forty days and forty nights is code, by the way, for wilderness. Elijah is in the wilderness. Elijah is in the dark night of his soul. Elijah is facing the dark.

Finally, he comes to a cave where he spends the night. No broom trees this time. Maybe angels don’t like the dark. Maybe angels can’t bother him if he is hiding out in a cave.

Guess what? The word of God comes to Elijah…even in a cave, even where no one can find him. The word of God shows up and says: What are you doing here, Elijah?

Elijah, God Bless him, points out that he’s been a good prophet, darn it! He’s been very zealous for God. He’s preached the best he can. He prayed and you answered and showed those Baal worshippers a thing or two. But despite everything he’s done, he is alone. The people – they don’t care. Now, if I am  honest, every preacher, recognizes Elijah’s complaint: “We visited them when they were sick. We preached our hearts out. We started a praise band. We knocked ourselves out on Sunday mornings. Still they don’t show up. Giving is down. Attendance is down. It doesn’t seem to matter what we do. The church is dying.”

God doesn’t have it. That is how I read this passage. God ain’t gonna listen to Elijah’s pity party. Get up God says, get out of the cave because I am going to pass by!

It does not seem that Elijah moves from his dark hiding place. There is a great wind outside – so strong it splits the mountains and the rocks. There is a earthquake. There is a fire. However, it doesn’t prompt Elijah to come out of his cave.

After all the pyrotechnics, there is nothing but silence whereupon Elijah wraps his cloak around him and goes out and stands in front of the cave. He hears the voice again asking him: What the heck are you doing here Elijah? And once again, Elijah answers: I’ve done my best. I’ve done it all for you. And still they are out to get me. I am alone in this business.

This time God responds by telling Elijah to get up and go – you gotta leave the cave. You gotta go to the wilderness. The wilderness, it seems, is where it all happens. In the wilderness, you will find partners. In the wilderness, the faithful are waiting. In the wilderness…that’s where the church is!

Saints, I want to say, are those who somehow find their way out of the dark times, and simply keep on keeping on. Yes, Elijah lived in a dark time. His people were fickle. They came to church occasionally and then flocked right back to Baal. The country was corrupt. Ahab would never amount to much of anything. Why, it is enough to make you want to crawl right in that cave!

And, there…precisely in the cave, in the dark places of our lives, is where we hear God. Not in the earthquakes or in the fire, or in those moments in our lives when we feel victorious and great. No. God is there in the silence. In the darkness. When we try to run away. Despite everything. God is there. Telling us what to do – get up. Go. Face the wilderness. You won’t be alone.

I am thinking that there are a lot of people these days who feel alone. I think there are a lot of people in our country who feel despair. I think there are a lot of people who just want to crawl in a cave and hide there until it is all over.

When I remember the saints we celebrate today, I remember the stories they told me and I remember the stories especially about the dark times in their lives – when their husband died, when they had to face illness, when they struggled with loneliness, in one case, when their child wasn’t there for them, when they grew up orphaned, when they realized that they were dying and questioned their faith. Edith and Luckye and Russ and Marge and Peg and Audrey – all had times in their lives when they felt like they were hiding out in a dark cave. However, I would suggest that all of them are examples to us of perseverance and of going where God asked them to go…despite everything. Luckye – who had more lives than a cat and who could laugh right up to the end. Edith whose own setbacks only made her more considerate of others. Peg who lived with fierce determination to dance at every wedding. Marge who knew she was dying but who courageously asked questions about what happens when we die and whose grace never faded. Audrey who was ever the capable one and who made wherever she was home. Russ – the caring brother who faced lengthy illnesses with humor and gentle endurance.

So. Maybe it isn’t so much the miracles we perform, or our spectacularly brave accomplishments or the fact that our hit won the World Series. Maybe it is simply daring to get up, to go, to walk out of the cave and to always listen for God’s direction in our lives. Maybe that is what makes saints out of us…despite everything!

An Exalted House
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
1 Kings 5:1-5; 8:1-13 – 29 October 2017

On the front of your bulletins this morning are pictures of all the houses Faith has lived in! Our family began in a space over a blacksmith’s shop. We were a mission church of the First & Franklin Presbyterian Church and our name was Faith Chapel. A year after our founding, we moved into a more church-like home simply called the Chapel. Eventually, the first real sanctuary was built in 1884. When the congregation began to move to the northern part of the city, it was decided that the church should follow its people. In the early fifties, Faith Church moved to our current location. Early photos of this part of city indicate there wasn’t much here at the time. It took real vision to imagine what our neighborhood would become.

I begin this way this morning because of our text – the account of the building of the first temple by King Solomon. As you will recall, last Sunday we heard about how David, Solomon’s father, was chosen as the first king of Israel. Even though flawed, David was a great king and he established Jerusalem as the center of his kingdom. However, because of his many battles with neighboring threats, David was never able to build a house for God causing David to observe that, while he lived in a fine palace made of cedar, the God of Israel lived in a tent. (2 Samuel 7:2)

It falls to Solomon to build the temple his father had always wanted. The Ark of the Covenant is brought to rest in the in the holy of holies. Solomon dedicates the temple and announces: “The Lord said that he would dwell in thick darkness, I have built you an exalted house, a place for you to dwell forever.” (1 Kings 8:13)

The “forever” part of Solomon’s announcement didn’t quite pan out. Solomon’s temple would be destroyed by the Babylonians. The rebuilt temple would also be destroyed. When the Greeks and, then the Romans took over Palestine, the temple was ruined until Herod decides that, in order to symbolize his rightful leadership, he would build the third temple. The Romans would destroy that ambitious project in 70 CE. The temple would never be rebuilt and, as you know, the temple mount now is the home for the Dome of the Rock, the holiest place of Islam.

Our current church home was built in the fifties, often known as the era of edifice complexes. Many of the largest and most imposing church structures were built during the fifties when the faithful, it seemed, needed to build and they needed to build churches that looked like churches. I love my old New Yorker cartoon which depicts a typical white church with a tall steeple. Its sign out front proudly proclaims “A Church that Looks Like a Church”.

When I was growing up, my siblings and I always wanted to go to a church that looked like a church. We moved around a lot because of my Dad’s job and more often than not we worshipped in rented spaces due to my parent’s penchant for new church start ups which is how I was confirmed in the Bear Pit restaurant right in front of the barbeque pit!

Church buildings are important. For one thing, they tell us a lot about a church’s theology. In the 1400s, in order to raise money for the construction of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, the Roman Catholic church sold indulgences. A crude way of describing indulgences is to say that you could wipe the slate of your life clean and assure a place in heaven if you bought one of these indulgences. A monk, Martin Luther, thought indulgences were theologically inappropriate. He also had some other things he thought the church needed to change. He was every pastor’s most annoying member – the guy who wants to fix this and that. Legend has it that on October 31^st 1517, 500 years ago this week, Luther nailed his 95 suggestions on the door of the church in Wittenburg, touching off what would become known as the Protestant Reformation.

Of course, Martin Luther was only the spark that ignited this massive shift in the way the world worked. John Calvin, a Swiss, would influence John Knox a Scotsman and the father of Presbyterianism. At one point, the followers of John Calvin would distinguish themselves from the followers of Martin Luther who became Lutherans. The reformation would change everything. Democracy as we know it in this country is based on the representative form of government Presbyterians adopted. We are governed by those elected by a congregation.

Reformation’s radical change can be seen in the houses of worship that were built in its wake. The elevation of the pulpit signified the shift from the centrality of the Eucharist, or communion, to the centrality of the sermon. Church interiors became more simple, signifying a move away from what was thought to be distracting ornamentation. The Puritans wanted to purify and this attitude was reflected in their churches. The Congregational Church is descended from the Puritans. I served a Congregational church in Brooklyn. One of our members found a lovely Celtic cross that she thought we should have on the communion table. People were outraged because, in their minds, Congregationalists don’t like symbols! Clear glass windows replaced stained glass because John Calvin thought the artwork of God in nature should be visible. At one point, organs disappeared, to be replaced by the human voice singing psalms. However, thankfully that reform did not last long! Now churches have praise bands and video screens. My heavens, some even have steel drum bands!

One of the mottos of the Reformation became “Reformed and always reforming”. It is good to remember that when we are wont to resist change. It is also good to remember that Protestant comes from the word “to protest”!

You see, there is a problem with temples or church buildings. Solomon built his temple with conscripted labor; slaves in other words. In addition, I think the question is valid as to whether Solomon built the temple for God…or for his own monarchy. Jesus confronted a temple that housed corruption prompting him to drive the money changers out and to announce that the temple would be destroyed in three days. We, too, are at risk of worshipping our buildings and not the God they are supposed to house. Don’t we think that God really wants us to have pews in order to worship rightly? We get to worshiping the building and not the God it serves. The various temples in Jerusalem were destroyed but not the faith they housed. It seems appropriate that there should be some symbol here in our sanctuary reminding us that our first building was a humble blacksmith shop. Our church buildings can be destroyed. What then will happen to our faith?

Two of our Presbyterian congregations are merging which will require one to give up their church building. This has been a very painful process for Brown Memorial Woodbrook. And, yet, I would maintain it has been a life-giving process for both congregations.

The merger of Brown Memorial and Govans is indicative of a prevailing trend. When I was ordained in the late 70’s there were over 3 million Presbyterians in the US. Today there are about a million and a half. The number of “Nones” out numbers people who claim a faith tradition.

History, it seems to me, serves to remind us that the “only thing that is constant is change”. Therefore we ought not to be afraid of what is coming…whether it is a decline in church membership or in our worship practices or in our government. We are a church reformed and always reforming.

In a recent article about the reformation and Presbyterians specifically, the author asks whether it would make any difference if the Presbyterian church disappeared altogether for lack of membership. Yes, she answers. We may look very different but our particular brand of reformed theology has given the world three distinctive ideas that should prove invaluable and enduring:

1. No one person knows the mind of God
2. Community is indispensable and more important than any building.
3. We are always being reformed.

~ Janet Edwards, Auburn Seminary 10/11/17

Click “Like”
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
1 Samuel 16:1-13 – 22 October 2017

 

Like most of you I have a morning routine. I check my email first and then I check Facebook. I am not a particularly savvy Facebook user and some of the stuff on Facebook infuriates me.  None the less, I do find out things about my parishioners and friends. For example, I know what you are doing when you aren’t in church!

This morning we are going to check Facebook. The first post that we see is God’s! God has posted something on the prophet Samuel’s page: “How long are you going to grieve over Saul! I am going in a different direction. Get over it, Samuel!!!” If we look at previous posts, we will see that God’s communication with Samuel has been spotty. God has posted numerous messages about the perils of having a king. Kings tax you. Kings raise armies. Kings require that you do things you do not want to do. None the less, Israel wants a king. Israel wants to be like the other nations. So, eventually we see God’s post that Samuel should check out Saul’s Facebook page. When Samuel does, he sees a good looking young man but nothing special. On Saul’s page, we see a young man and his friend out on a small road seemingly nowhere. Saul has written: “Me and my good buddy out looking for Dad’s donkeys!” Samuel, for the life of him, couldn’t tell why God thought so much of this guy, at least from what he posted on Facebook! Saul seemed, in fact, so ordinary – nothing on his page suggested that he’d traveled anywhere beyond his small village. His biggest adventure was going to look for those donkeys! None the less, Samuel clicked “like” on the donkey posting and asked to be one of Saul’s friends. As a result, the two men – well, one man and one young man – eventually meet and Samuel is prepared. He has his bottle of oil. And just like that, with a dribble of oil, Samuel anoints (I know – not a very Facebook description) Saul king.

Samuel follows Saul closely. He reads about Saul’s numerous military exploits. He sees Saul in uniform standing proudly in front of his troops – with the tag line: “Beat the pants off the Ammonites today! Can I get a like?”

A lot of what Saul posts on Facebook is, in fact, about his military success. We see him urging his fellow Facebook friends not only to like him but to join up with him. In one post, we see Saul standing before a fire announcing that he has just offered to God the ritual offering: “Don’t know where Samuel is”, Saul proudly announces, “so I just went ahead without him!” Oops!

In another post, we see Saul proudly announcing that he is off to fight the Amalekites – anyone want to join in the fun? Samuel responds to his post by saying “Just remember what the deal is – If you win, no one escapes”. However, in the next post there is ole Saul proudly standing with his vanquished enemies’ leader and the enemy’s best sheep and oxen. “The perks of war”, Saul boasts, “Can I get a like?” At this point, Samuel sends a notification – “What do you think you are doing, Saul? I saw what you posted on Facebook! You may not think so much of yourself but you are the king! You are the one the people trust, or should trust, and you simply cannot do whatever you want! This is not about you! You have to listen to God and obey God”. From that time on Samuel did not click like on any of Saul’s posts. From that time on, Samuel knew that Saul would never make it as king.

Samuel’s Facebook page read: “What a disappointment Saul turned out to be. I regret ever thinking he could be king. Sad.” He still followed Saul on Facebook but never did Samuel click “like” again.

God sends Samuel another message on Facebook: “Get over it Samuel. Move on.”

About this time, we start paying attention to another Facebook page. David is new to the whole Facebook thing. After all, he is a kid, the youngest of eight sons. He can only get online when one of his brothers lets him use his laptop. As such, David spends most of his time out with the sheep. Sometimes, when his brother lets him, he takes a lap top with him just to fend off the boredom of it all. David’s posts tend to depict him out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of sheep saying something like “Another day out here in exciting Bethlehem!” The thing about David is that you can tell from his selfies that he is good looking – he has the rosy cheeks of someone who spends their days outside. He has penetrating eyes. David’s posts are pretty much the same – they do not vary much until one day. Suddenly we see David standing there with Samuel.  Samuel is holding his trusty bottle of oil. Underneath the photo David has written: “Check this out! I just got anointed – this dude says I’m gonna be king. Go figure!”

We know what the Facebook posts will show going forward. David will post a picture of himself standing over the massive body of Goliath holding only his sling. Saul’s posts will become increasingly erratic as his mental state deteriorates. David, on the other hand, can be seen playing his lyre in the king’s palace: “Wrote this psalm today – I thought it was good but the king didn’t seem to notice”. By now, David has his own laptop – one of the perks of being right down the hall from the king. David will become a military hero. Saul will become increasingly jealous of David. Saul will seek to get David killed. David’s posts on Facebook disappear. He is, after all, a refugee fleeing from his king.

Finally, one day, the New York Times posts a picture of the aftermath of a horrible battle with the headline – “King Saul dead.  He and his sons killed in battle with the Philistines”.

David’s next Facebook post reads: “Saul and Jonathan: beloved and lovely! In life and in death they were not divided; they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger that lions.” (2 Sam.1:23)

Not long after this post, we see another post of David depicting him being crowned King of Judah.

The very name of the social media vehicle – Facebook – suggests a superficial aspect to this widely popular way of communicating. If you saw the movie about Facebook’s founder, Mark Zuckerburg, you know that Facebook started as way of identifying college students by their faces when Zuckerberg was a student at Harvard. Zuckerberg has maintained that he started Facebook so that you could learn about other people. The fact that our society needs a tool so we can learn about other people says something significant in and of itself. We are isolated and anonymous and lonely so we go on Facebook in order to know people.

The problems with Facebook are numerous. It has been accused recently of posting fake news. It has been known to have been hacked. However, the more profound problem with Facebook is its superficiality. We love to post pictures of ourselves showing how great we look, doing things that are fun or successful or indicating how popular we are. Studies show that if people are prone to depression, Facebook only makes the situation worse. Even if you aren’t depressed you can get depressed by looking at all the beautiful people doing all those beautiful things. Why isn’t our life like that? Why aren’t we like that? What are we doing, sitting at the kitchen table in front of a screen…alone? In addition, our reality is reduced to sound bites rather than a thoughtful, honest assessment of who we are and what we do.

The striking thing is that the Biblical world knew the pitfalls of Facebook! Saul is chosen and we are told he was a good looking fellow – no other characteristics are listed in his credentials. David is described as handsome too. But he is also a kid – hardly qualifying him for such a lofty position. His physically more qualified brothers are one by one passed up. God tells Samuel: “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Sam.16:7) It is called Facebook…not Heartbook isn’t it?

I dare say what matters to God is not the fact that we just beat the Philistines, or that we really look good in a helmet and spear, or that we have a beautiful partner and beautiful kids. What matters to God is what is in our heart. As the psalmist puts it: The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart…” (Ps.51:17) Rarely do you see a broken and contrite heart on Facebook! I am not saying it doesn’t happen. Rarely does it happen.

Facebook simply seems to symbolize the reality that we are a culture who values appearances. Racial profiling is possible because we look only on the outside – we see the color of a person’s skin, or the fact that she wears a hajab. ICE agents apprehend people not because they know they have a record but because they look Hispanic, therefore they must be undocumented.

It is astonishing to me that this country which claims to have at its core Judeo-Christian ethics has succumbed to being more impressed by outward appearance than what is in a person’s heart. I am not blaming Facebook only suggesting that Facebook is symptomatic of where we are as a society – more concerned with a face than a heart.

What would it be like if we tried to see people as God sees them? What would it be like if we saw women not as objects to be manipulated but as children of God? What if we saw those pulled over for a broken tail light not as black but as children of God? What if we saw the father dropping his child off at school not as illegal but as a child of God?  What if we saw the family doing their grocery shopping not as Muslim but as children of God? What if we saw the Red Sox not as cheaters but as children of God?

 

Things that Go Bump in the Night

Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church

1 Samuel 3:1-21 -15 October 2017

 

Even though most of us grew up hearing the story of Samuel in Sunday School or in children’s books, it seems to me some introduction is appropriate.

The children of God survived the wilderness experience, though not without messing up more than once. There was, as you recall, the matter of the golden calf – one of many failures. After numerous battles and mishaps, they finally make it to the Promised Land. All the while, the children of God are learning what it means to be a people – a nation of people. They are loosely arranged into 12 tribes and they are governed by judges. The story of Samuel begins with his rather miraculous birth to the previously barren Hannah. Hannah promised God that if she can have a son, she would dedicate him to the priesthood. There is a curious little detail in this part of the story. Hannah and her husband go to Shiloh, as is their custom, to worship. Hannah is praying to God and asking for a child. She does so by only moving her lips. The Bible says, “her voice was not heard” (1:13). The priest, Eli, sees this and thinks she is drunk! Hannah comes back at him, saying “Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time”. (1:16) I point this little detail out because in many ways our story is one about hearing and listening.

Hannah gives birth to a boy and she names him Samuel because, as she says, “I have asked him of the Lord”, the inference being that God heard her even though she was only moving her lips.

As promised, the boy Samuel is taken to study at the House of the Lord in Shiloh with the elderly priest, Eli.

Here’s the thing: Eli had sons of his own. His priesthood and authority should have passed to them. However, Eli’s sons were a mess. They cheated the people, took advantage of their prominent position, and they slept with the women who served people at the door of the tent of meeting. Eli knew about his sons. He knew they were scoundrels. Eli had a father-son talk with his sons but they didn’t listen.

God sends a man to tell Eli what a disappointment he has been. God has been counting on Eli. Eli’s family was trusted by God to lead the people in the way they should go, but his sons have been a disgrace. God’s trust in Eli and his family is broken and God is going to go in a different direction.

And, so we come to today’s story. The boy, Samuel, is serving God in the house of Eli. In those days, the word of God was rare. Visions were not widespread. Is it comforting to know that ours is not the only time when we feel like the word of God is rare and that visions are not widespread? Do we read the paper or listen to the news and yearn to hear God speaking through the people who seem to have so much to say these days?

Of course, in the very next sentence we learn that Eli’s sight is getting worse and he can’t see. It might hard to have visions if you can’t see….or maybe not! Eli has turned in for the night. The lamp of God has not yet gone out. Well, that is hopeful. Is there hope for us if there is even a little flicker of God light? So what if there is no Pentecostal fire burning up the place (I use this image with caution as we are mindful of those blazing fires in the west). There is just the faintest flicker of God light. That is the point. And the man is blind. And he is sleeping. Samuel is also sleeping in his room.

God calls Samuel. Samuel jumps up. Here I am. He runs to Eli who says go back to sleep I didn’t call you. So Samuel goes back and lies down in his bed. God calls again. And again Samuel says “Here I am”, runs into Eli’s room only to be told to go back to bed.

We are told at this point that Samuel did not know God yet. Samuel did not know how to identify God’s voice. Samuel couldn’t tell when God was talking to him. The inference is that if we really know God, we’ll know when God is talking to us. That is kind of scary, isn’t it? I mean Moses had a burning bush. That is kind of a heads up. Jacob had a ladder full of angels. That is kind of a big tip off. All Samuel has is a voice in the night. Poor kid! Would you know it was God? Do we know it is God…or is it simply something that goes bump in the night, branches brushing against your window, the sound of the floor creaking or furniture settling?

After all, Samuel is just a boy. Why would God be talking to a kid, especially when you’ve got the supposedly wise anointed Eli?

The next time Samuel hears the voice and goes to tell Eli, Eli gets it. He figures out it must be God talking so he tells Samuel to go back to bed and if he hears the voice again he should say, speak for your servant is listening. Sure enough God comes and stands there calling Samuel’s name. Samuel replies: “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Then God tells Samuel that God is about to something in Israel that will make everyone’s ears tingle. God proceeds to tell the boy what will happen to Eli and his sons because of their behavior.

Samuel is understandably afraid to tell Eli what he heard. But Eli knows. He calls Samuel. He addresses him – Samuel, my son. The son I should have had. The son who will lead the people. The son who will take Israel into the future. Samuel, Eli says, tell me everything. Eli recognizes God’s words.

In verse 19, we read, “As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground.”

How do we listen for God? How do we hear God? We too live in a time when the word of God is rare and visions are scarce. We preachers never know how many folk will be here on a Sunday morning. If there is a Ravens game – I mean how do we compete with a Ravens game? Sometimes it seems like people trust Jimmy Kimmel more than they trust a priest! It is a time when the word of God is rare and visions are scarce. The United Church of Christ has a slogan: God is Still Speaking. If we believe God is still speaking, why is the word of God rare? Why are visions scarce?

The story of Samuel seems to suggest some answers.

1. Hannah believed God would hear her, even if she did not speak out loud.  She believed God would hear her. She believed all those barren years that God would hear her. Hannah, I guess you could say, she persisted. Do we believe in a God who hears us?
2. Eli heard God. He heard God even though God was telling him something he did not want to hear! Maybe God is speaking through one of our friends, someone we know. Maybe God is telling us something we do not wish to hear. You can’t fix it. This job is not for you. Just let it go. Maybe God is saying to us “These things – the hurricanes, the earthquakes and now the fires – pay attention to them. Maybe they mean something.
3. Maybe we do have prophets. Maybe we do have visions. Maybe we don’t notice them because they aren’t what we think they should be. Maybe they don’t go around in suits with mellifluous voices quoting the Bible by heart. Maybe, just maybe they are a kid…”who doesn’t know God yet”. Or maybe, just maybe, God speaks through an elderly man who tells a little boy that God is speaking, God is still speaking.
4. What if one of the signs of hearing God is the ability to do what Eli did and see that God is doing something new, and guess what, it isn’t any longer up to me but it depends on this little kid. Does listening to God depend on our recognition that God uses an elderly man who has been a disappointment to facilitate the vision and the future? Eli tells Samuel what to say so that he will hear God. Conversely, does listening to God depend on the possibility that God is speaking through a little kid who doesn’t know all that much.
5. That phrase, Things that go bump in the night, comes from a Scottish poem:

“From goulies and ghosties
and long legged beasties
and things that go bump in the night –
Good Lord deliver us!

I don’t know – maybe listening for God means listening to the things that go bump in the night.

Let us pray: (This is a prayer by Walter Brueggemann)

We are surrounded by a din of demanding voices:

selling

recruiting,

seducing,

coercing.

We screen them out in order to maintain our sanity,

to secure our rest.

And then, in the night, you address us,

you call us by name,

you entrust to us risky words,

you empower us with authority.

But your voice is on first hearing not distinctive.

We confuse your voice with that of an old friend

or a deep hope

or a powerful fear

or an ancient bias.

We hear, but we do not listen –

joined, bewildered, resistant.

But your voice sneaks up on us:

you address us,

you call us by name,

you entrust us with risky words,

you empower us with authority.

Sometimes…occasionally…boldly…we answer:

“Speak, I am listening.”

Then we say, “Here am I.”

And listening, we are made new and sent dangerously

by your address.

Prayers for a Privileged People, p. 113-114

 

Meditation after Las Vegas Massacre
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
Exodus 16:1-18 -8 October 2017

Today, we find ourselves in the wilderness. Moses (with God’s help) has succeeded in liberating his people from slavery in Egypt.  The children of Israel have escaped through a miraculous parting of the sea. Now, reality of another sort sets in. They are in the middle of nowhere. They have no water and they have no food. So, they do what all of us do, they complain. They mourn what they had when they were slaves in Egypt. They may have been slaves, but life was predictable under Pharaoh. They knew what to expect.  They had food to eat. They had routines. When you are a slave, you know what to expect. It wasn’t like it is out here where we don’t know where our next meal is coming from or where we will sleep at night or even where we are going.

The children of God are, after all, traumatized. They are the victims of cruel slavery and they are afraid. So, they do what we all do – they complain. Why didn’t we just die in Egypt? At least in Egypt we had those flesh pots! We had bread in Egypt!

We can imagine that slaves in the Underground Railroad felt much the same – hunted and running in dark woods with no food and the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Maybe they, too, thought twice about freedom. Maybe they, too, considered the safety of the master’s house.

I must confess that I sympathize with the Children of Israel! This week I wondered if I would be better off in a country where there wasn’t such a gun culture, a country in which violence wasn’t so much a part of our DNA, a country that did not have the sin of slavery.

Perhaps the most striking thing about this experience is that God listens to the Israelites’ complaining! We might remember that God hears us, even if we are being less than brave, even when we are being ungrateful. At least we are honest in describing how we feel: We are afraid and we are hungry. If we are going to die why didn’t you just leave us in Egypt?  God hears us.

And God provides what we need. We will have enough. We will have enough. However, God is very clear that no one should take more than they need. Does that include politicians who take private jets when they could fly commercially? Does that include the outgoing head of Equifax who has a 90 million dollar severance package even though while he was in charge his company was hacked putting half of all Americans at risk? Does that include a gunman who had a whole arsenal of weapons? Who needs assault weapons? “They gathered as much as each of them needed”

I also want to point out that God doesn’t just cause quail to fall out of heaven and manna to cover the ground. In the midst of the danger of the wilderness, in the midst of famine, God tells us to keep one day holy: “Tomorrow is a day of rest, a holy Sabbath to the Lord.” In other words, God tells us that we are to recognize the holy even in the worst hardship, even when we feel like we are abandoned and lost: we are to observe a time of rest and sacred space. In the midst of a wild and dangerous wilderness, we are to recognize that God is present and we are on holy ground.

I love Everett Fox’s translation of this part of the Bible. Verse 10, as he puts it, reads like this:

Now it was, when Aaron spoke to the entire community of the Children of Israel, they faced the wilderness, and here; the Glory of YHWH could be seen in the cloud.”

They faced the wilderness. My friends, we are facing the wilderness. It is very tempting to ignore what ails our country. It is very tempting to turn away from the photographs of the carnage in Las Vegas and to go about as usual. We are already doing that aren’t we? We pastors actually discussed whether tackling what happened in Las Vegas a week later would be too late. It is already old news. It is very tempting to move on to the debate over taxes and claim that we will talk about gun control another time. We have to face the wilderness and we have to admit to ourselves what is wrong with our country.

We have to do this because the Glory of God can be seen in the cloud. In the smoke from gunfire, in the smoke of gunfire that set off the fire alarms in a hotel, in the dark, horrible night of terror, God can be seen.

God tells us that, in the midst of whatever wilderness we find ourselves in, the community that observes the Sabbath, a community that is intentional about recognizing who it is that delivers us and feeds us and makes us whole is not only important. It is essential! The church, then, is more important than ever in times of tragedy.

The act of lament is a very Biblical one, a very ancient one. There is a whole section of the Psalms, including the one we read together this morning, in which the author, like the ancient Israelites, cries out in anguish. These psalms are honest expressions of how we feel: How long will you forget me, Lord? Forever? We feel forgotten. We feel God is hidden. We feel like the enemy is defeating us. The problem is, our culture is already moving on. Our culture wants only the happy hymns, the triumphant ones. This is not the time and place, it says, to talk about what we are afraid of and what wilderness feels like.

And, so, this morning, we decided to change the service we had planned. We changed the music. We changed the readings and the prayers to allow ourselves this space, this time to grieve and to admit our anger, and our shame.

We are now going to take time to pray. You are invited to stand, if you are able, and to say “Let us pray for….naming whatever is in your heart. At the conclusion of each petition, we will say together

“Lord Hear Our Prayer”

The Offering will be received as you come forward to place those symbols of who we are, our response to God’s presence and assurance, in the basket at the front. Then, if you will, please continue to the cross, placing a ribbon over it. We need, it seems to me, to physically express our sadness.

Let us pray:

Look at us, we pray. Look at us and answer us O God. Help us to see what is true. Help us to say what is on our hearts. We feel forgotten. Hear us.

When we see your children fallen in the streets, when we hear the rapid fire of guns, when we hear the crying of those who mourn, we are consumed with grief.

Deep down we know that you love us – we remember your mercy and your faithfulness in the past. So we turn to you again, longing for your presence, looking for comfort and peace. Hear our prayers.

Wait…What Just Happened?
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns

Faith Presbyterian Church
Exodus 2;23-25, 3:1-15, 4:10-17
1 October 2017

My father was transferred during my senior year in high school. We were to move from California to St. Louis, Missouri. None of us were happy about it, most of all my mother. Even though she had grown up on a farm during the depression, I think her spiritual home was in California. In those days, you worked for the company your whole career. The thought of not going, or of changing jobs instead was simply not an option. Consequently, we went. My father did not believe in having a plan when we drove across country. We set out and drove until it was time to stop. So it was that we found ourselves in the middle of the Navajo reservation as darkness set in and there was nothing – no gas stations, no restaurants, no motels. Finally, we found a motel that had a place to eat. The place was modest, shall we say. Most importantly, there was no TV! Having worked on the campaign of one of our presidential candidates, I was desperate to watch the Chicago convention. The place did have a radio. There I was with my ear glued to the radio as I listened to reports of police beating demonstrators and I cried. As we settled in our beds that night under that vast, pitch dark sky, all we could hear was the bleating of sheep. It turns out we were in the midst of a sheep ranch.

This memory surfaced this week as I thought about Moses out there in the middle of nowhere herding sheep.

You might have noticed that the sermons texts so far this fall have had to do with call – God calling us and our hearing God calling us. Abraham heard God call him to sacrifice his son. Jacob slept in the desert and has a dream in which he hears God calling him and promising him a future. Today, we heard the story of Moses out in the desert and his encounter with a burning bush out of which he hears God calling him. None of these men were remarkable. We aren’t told they were especially accomplished, or handsome, or super smart, or great orators. All of these men were flawed. Abraham passes his wife off as his sister so he won’t get killed. Jacob cheats his brother and runs away. Moses is the son of slaves who murders an Egyptian who is mistreating one of his fellow slaves. Moses, too, is on the run.

Moses flees to Canaan, takes refuge in the home of his father-in-law and becomes a sheep herder. My! How life can turn on us. One day we are the pampered pet of Pharaoh’s daughter. The next day we find ourselves on the lam eking out a living tending sheep!

We can imagine that one day herding sheep is exactly like every other day. The monotony of it must be deadening. Moses was out there in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles of desert, alone with no company, no cell phone, nothing.

Suddenly, out of this desert nowhere, something extraordinary happens. Moses had come to Horeb, when suddenly he sees a “flame of fire out of a bush” and there is an angel in it. Moses has to make a call. Does he just keep going? Does he say to himself, Man, I got to sit down! I’ve been out here too long and the sun is getting to me? Does he dismiss this weird apparition and turn away? Does Moses just keep going because, darn, he needs to get home before dark? No.  Moses stops and pays attention: “I must turn aside and look at this great sight.” I just want to point out that it is precisely when Moses stops that he hears God talking to him.

In some sense, this story is about the importance of stopping and paying attention. God does not always, maybe almost never, show up in extraordinary places or times. More often than not, God speaks to us while we are doing the dishes or mopping the floor or taking out the trash or lying in bed at night.

I guess you could say the burning bush was rather dramatic. But was it? Maybe it was simply a brush fire….a scrawny little bush burning. You see it all the time…out there in the desert. Moses stopped. That is the thing. Moses stopped and he paid attention.

God tells Moses who God is. This is not some generic God who speaks. It is not some vague voice. The Bible does not say that God’s voice was big or commanding, but it does say God is specific. God calls to Moses out of the bush and God says, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”…you know who I’m talking about here! Those guys – none of them were super heroes. None of them were obvious choices for the job. I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – those guys – the ordinary guys.

It is as if God is priming Moses up for the big ask.

I pay attention, this God says. I see what is happening to my people. I am not some absent landlord. I am intimately involved in my people’s misery. I hear their cries. I know their suffering. I have come down to deliver them. I am going to take them to the land of milk and honey. God repeats again and again what God has done and will do. God is faithful and just and will deliver us.

At that point, I figure Moses must have felt comforted. Moses must have felt reassured by God’s reminders of what God has done and will do. Great, Moses is thinking. I feel better. Now I better round up my sheep and get going…knowing that God is going to take care of everything. I feel better.

But God is not finished. There is twist that comes in v.10 of Chapter 3. And, here’s the deal, Moses, God says. I want you to go and tell Pharaoh to let his slaves go. Wait…what just happened here? After God’s beautiful speech about what God has done and will do, God suddenly tells Moses: You go. You, Moses, you go.

Moses – you gotta love him – says, “But God – who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and ask this kind- of- a- big favor?”

We know, even though he doesn’t say it, we know Moses is thinking, Man Pharaoh hates my guts. Pharaoh is gonna kill me! And you want me to go and ask him to free his slaves, the ones who are his bread and butter, the ones who are his bread ticket? You, Yahweh, you gotta be kidding!

God persists. “Don’t worry Moses. I will be with you.” Now, I don’t know about you but I am not sure I would be reassured by this

Moses tries again. “God, look, if I get back to Egypt, I am not saying I will, but if I do get back to Egypt, those people aren’t going to listen to me. After all, they probably see me as a traitor. I was Pharaoh’s man wasn’t I , living all those years in his fancy palace. Worse, they know I killed that guy which certainly didn’t make their lives easier. I mean, what if they ask me what your name is? What should I tell them?”

Tell them, God says, “I am who I am. Just tell them I am sent you.” Right!

At this point, we guess, it might be getting dark. Moses’ dinner is getting cold at home. The sheep are restless. He wants to get back to that sheep ranch and watch the news. None the less, Moses doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say, let’s finish this conversation in the morning. Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you. Moses persists. “What if they don’t listen to me? I can’t talk well. I stutter. Who is going to listen to me? Besides, can’t you see I’m busy. I have a job. Who will take care of all these sheep?”

Before the liberating words, Let my people go, comes the command “You go” Wait…what just happened here? After God’s repeated declaration of God’s actions and promises, comes the command “You go”….you go back to Egypt, you go tell Pharaoh, you, Moses slow of speech, lacking self-esteem, little ole Moses – you go!

On this World Communion Sunday, we cannot escape the reality that our world is messed up. The United States and North Korea are trading war-like taunts. A vicious dictator in Syria appears to have the upper hand. Hurricanes and earthquakes ravaged Mexico, the Caribbean and Florida and Texas. Afghanistan. Iraq. Myanmar. Sudan. Republic of Congo. It seems like everywhere we look there is violence and misery. Everywhere we look there are oppressive pharaohs with their thumbs on the people.

One of the great peacemakers of our time was the Rabbi-scholar, Abraham Heschel who marched with Dr. King and, like King, protested the Viet Nam War. Heschel reminded us: “At the first conference on religion and race, the main participants were Pharaoh and Moses. The outcome of that summit meeting has not come to an end. Pharaoh is not ready to capitulate. The Exodus began, but is far from having completed.”

If that is the case, if the Exodus is far from being completed, there is a very high likelihood that God is looking to interrupt our lives. There is a very high likelihood that God could interrupt our ordinary routine, just going about our business. There is a very high likelihood that God will call to us and remind us of everything God has done – how God has healed us, how God has kept us safe, how God has blessed us, how God is paying attention to us – little ole us. There is a very high likelihood that God will then say to us – You go. You go and tell Pharaoh to let my people go. You go and tell the President that we don’t want any more war. You go and tell the powers that be that violence in our city is not acceptable. You go. You go.

Wait….what just happened?

A Piece of Stone
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns
Faith Presbyterian Church (USA) Baltimore

Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29 – 28 May 2017

I think I am having a bit of an identity crisis! People have asked me if I’ve changed my name all of a sudden. Since my marriage, I have used “Christa Fuller Burns”, but not religiously. I never legally changed my name to include Fuller and until recently my name has appeared in the Sunday bulletin as Christa Fuller Burns or, simply, Rev. Burns. However, our new church administrator was trying to be politically correct and lately people have asked me if I’ve changed my name because it has appeared as Rev. Fuller Burns in the bulletin. People want to know if I am not Christa anymore. That’s got me thinking: Am I not Christa anymore?

This past week, Mitch Landrieu, the mayor of New Orleans, addressed the removal of several of the city’s Confederate monuments. In his speech, Landrieu spoke about the things we choose to say about who we are, at least that is what I heard in the speech. As he pointed out, New Orleans is a city of divergent peoples: Choctaw, Houma Nation, the Chitimacha, Hernando De Soto, Robert Cavalier, Sieur de La Salle, the Acadians, the Islenos, the enslaved people of Senegambia, Free People of Colorix, the Haitians, the Germans, both the empires of France and Spain, the Italians, the Irish, the Cubans, the south and central Americans, the Vietnamese and so many more – all make up the identity of New Orleans. Why, then, Landrieu asked, do we choose the images of men who stood for subjugation and segregation for lofty monuments when there are “no slave ship monuments, no prominent markers on public land to remember the lynchings or the slave blocks; nothing to remember this long chapter of our lives; the pain, the sacrifice, the shame…all of it happening on the soil of New Orleans”. In short, a significant part of New Orleans identity is missing in its public statements.

Landrieu recalled something President Obama said about the need to re-frame our identity. Obama remembered a piece of stone, a slave auction block engraved with a commemorative plaque noting that Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay had both stood on the stone while they gave speeches. He said: “Consider what this artifact tells us about history…on a stone where day after day for years, men and women…bound and bought and sold and bid like cattle on a stone worn down by the tragedy of over a thousand bare feet. For a long time the only thing we considered important, the singular thing we once chose to commemorate as history with a plaque were the unmemorable speeches of two powerful men.” (as quoted in the NY Times, May 23, 2017) These monuments, these pieces of stone say who we think we are as Americans. They are emblematic of our identity and we need to get it right…about our identity.

I think that is what Paul was arguing for in his letter to the good people of Galatia. We need to get it right. I think identity was very important to this man who was raised a Jew, who, as a Jew persecuted the Christ followers, who had a blinding vision that changed him and his identity forever. He would no longer be Saul. His name would be Paul and his identity was now as one in whom Christ lived. As such, Paul traced his identity to Abraham: “Just as Abraham ‘believed in God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness, so, you see, those who believe are the descendents of Abraham” (v.6) whether they are Jewish or Gentile, their identity is shaped by Abraham. “And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.” (v.29)

I think we, in this country, are also having something of an identity crisis. The white majority is disappearing and we find ourselves debating bathrooms and what kind of proof we need in order to vote and who is an American and who isn’t. There was a story on the news this week about a man who was arrested as he took his son to school here in Baltimore because he is undocumented, but with no criminal record. His wife, who is not the mother of the boy, does not have his papers and no way of proving the boy’s identity. We are having an identity crises in this country. Are we going to retain our identity of e pluribus unum – one out of many? If so, it seems we will need a new image of ourselves in which all Americans can see themselves.

Paul argued for such a re-visioning when he urged the church to see itself as neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave or free, neither male of female. You see, the churches Paul started in Galatia were also having an identity crisis. They were asking themselves what makes one a Christian. Does the adherence to Jewish law make you a Christian or, as Paul argued, is it that Christ lives in you? Perhaps these communities in Galatia were also asking themselves how can we be who we are when the Roman oppression system is watching our every move.

Paul is here, not rejecting Jewish law. I think he is saying that as a guide, law is not enough. One has to have to have an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ such that Christ lives in us.

Think about it: don’t we know a lot of people who call themselves Christian, who go to church every Sunday, never miss communion, obey all the church’s laws, but who are not examples of the Christ who cared about the poor and the sick and the outcast? If you talk to a devout Jew, I think they, too, would say that simply following the Torah is not enough. Torah is more than that – Torah is how we live.

I am thinking about John Colmer’s recent trip to Eastern Europe in search, I think it is safe to say, of his identity. John, you see, grew up thinking his family name was Colmers and that his family was Catholic. Only recently, did he come to discover that this original name was Cohn and that many of his relatives perished in the holocaust because they were Jews. An identity crisis? Maybe. Maybe John is Paul in reverse – having known that Christ lives in him, but now discovering the significance and the beauty of Jewish law.

For me, the point is not so much about the law versus the Gospel, but that Jesus breaks down all the barriers between Jews and Gentiles, slave and free, men and women and when that happens we discover our true identities…we are all, all of us heirs of Abraham.

Last week, my nephew graduated from Dickinson College. I went up to Carlisle to be there for his senior recital on Friday. In a hushed and darkened auditorium, Liam walked on stage in a long, flowing dress and I wept before Liam even opened his mouth to sing (those of you who know me know that I am a crier). It moved me that this young person who claims to be “gender non-conforming” could so bravely walk out there on that stage, so boldly claiming that identity…gender non-conforming. And, then, Liam sang!

It seems to me that whether we are the people of Gaul who have been brutally conquered by the Roman Empire, or whether we are Americans who see our identity represented by a piece of stone, or whether we are discovering our family story for the first time, or whether we are 21 years old and declaring that our identity does not conform to the neatly drawn lines on our birth certificates, we need to be honest about who we are. We need to tell the whole story of our identity. We need to live into Paul’s advice: “…in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith”…it doesn’t matter if you are a Jew or a Gentile, if you are a slave or a free person, it does not matter if you are a man or a woman – all, all of us are one. Let’s get that right!

When the Ramparts Start to Crumble
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns
Faith Presbyterian Church (USA) Baltimore

Luke 19:29-44 – 9 April 2017

Palm Sunday

 

Archaeologists in recent times have uncovered huge stones and rubble near the Western Wall in Jerusalem. The stones are all that is left of what was the glorious temple in Jerusalem. The temple was, by many accounts, one of the most impressive pieces of architecture in the world and all that remains of it are some massive stones and broken pieces of columns.

In 70 CE, the Roman army brutally crushed a Jewish uprising. In the process, they virtually obliterated Jerusalem even though it is reported that some Roman officers were reluctant to execute Titus’ order to destroy the temple because it wouldn’t “be right to destroy a holy building renowned as one of the greatest products of human endeavor.” (P.186 Excavating Jesus – Borg and Reed)

Large stones, pieces of rubble, are all that is left of the temple of Jerusalem.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, he entered a city that was both the holiest of holy and the most dangerous place in his part of the world. The temple was in Jerusalem making it the hope of every Jewish pilgrim. Jerusalem was the “Golden”, as the old hymn puts it:

Jerusalem the golden,

with milk and honey blest,

beneath your contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed.

I know not, oh, I know not

What joys await us there,

What radiancy of glory,

What bliss beyond compare. (Jerusalem the Golden; Bernard Cluny)

However, Jerusalem was also the center of everything that was wrong with a country occupied by foreign armies. It reeked of corruption and the beautiful temple was not immune from that corruption. Jerusalem was especially dangerous at festival times when its population multiplied with pilgrims, when religious affections so easily became passionate and the risk of unrest was acute.

This was the Jerusalem Jesus entered on Palm Sunday, Passover time, riding on a donkey while, at the same time, in another part of the city Roman soldiers entered the town riding massive horses, covered in glittering silver armor, carrying their weapons, demonstrating their power, sending the message that there had better not be any disruption. There had better not be any disruption.

When Jesus neared the city, he wept over it, saying “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another, because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” (19:41-44)

In 70 CE, the Romans did exactly what Jesus predicted and not one stone was left upon another. The ramparts had completely crumbled.

My question for us this morning is: What do we do when the ramparts crumble? The fact is, sometimes our sanctuaries are destroyed and we are left without safety or shelter. What do we do then?

In last Sunday’s paper there was a story about the people of Niger who have been driven from their homes by Boco Haran. They’ve found refuge out in the open along a highway where daily existence is precarious. There is virtually no shelter, not enough water, food is scarce and there is no way to make a living. None-the-less, they endure. The ramparts of their lives have been destroyed.

In another part of the world, ISIS is systematically destroying whole cities and the Syrian government is gassing its own people. What do we do when the ramparts start to crumble?

But we need not look very far for evidence of crumbling ramparts. We know from our own experience the reality of lives upended. The walls of our lives break apart by divorce, by death, by the sudden diagnosis of a life-threatening illness, by being uprooted and having to make life over again in a strange place. In those times when life rips down our beautifully constructed walls, do we not feel defenseless and exposed and laid bare? Do we not say to ourselves, Oh that we knew the things that make for peace?

What do we do when the ramparts start to crumble?

First of all, we learn that God is not confined to buildings, either physical ones or the ones we make for ourselves. Stephen preaches in the book of Acts: “Yet the Most High does not dwell in houses made with human hands, as the prophet says,

Heaven is my throne,

and the earth is my footstool.

What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord,

or what is the place of my rest?

Did not my hand make all these things?

-(Acts 7:48-50)

And, Paul, in his letter to the church in Corinth, wrote: “For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-5:1) Our God is not confined to buildings and it is hubris to think that our buildings are indispensable to the existence of God.

Second, when the ramparts are destroyed, we improvise. In the absence of the temple, Judaism focused on education and eventually centered their religious life in local synagogues. Rabbinic Judaism was born and Judaism turned toward the Torah rather than Temple worship and political sovereignty.

The followers of Christ who fled Jerusalem because it was going to be destroyed discovered that there was a ministry to others, non-Jews. Christianity grew in the midst of the rubble and displacement.

I like to tell the story of the church in Charleston South Carolina that was destroyed by Hurricane Hugo. The church decided that rather than worship in somebody else’s building, they would construct a big tent on their now vacant property. While the church was in the tent, before they could rebuild, the congregation multiplied.

After Jesus’ death, his followers learned to do for themselves and adapt to their new situation. They thought they could go back to their old lives and fish. But the risen Jesus told them to get off their duff and “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit….” (Matt. 28:19)

Those of us who have lost loved ones through death or divorce know that we learn how to manage by ourselves. We learn how to trust our instincts. We learn how to improvise.

Finally, when our earthy tents are destroyed, do we not come to see that, we are sanctuaries: “Lord make me a sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true. With thanksgiving, I’ll be a sanctuary for you.” (Lord, Prepare Me)

The singer, LeAnn Rimes has named her most recent album, Remnants. When asked about the title of the album, Ms Rimes referred to what it feels like to fall apart and the value of that experience. She said that if you can give into the grieving you feel, you discover that there is beauty in it. When you crumble, she says, you are able to identify the pieces, like those rocks buried under what was the temple. You are able to identify that remnant that is indestructibly you. And, with those pieces, you can be made into something new. (Ayann Johnson Watkins, Christian Century, March 29, ’17)

My friends, let us not be afraid to face what happens in Jerusalem on Good Friday. Let us not be afraid to face what happens to Jerusalem when armies destroy it. Let us not be afraid to admit that our carefully built fortresses can crumble. Let us not be afraid…to let God call us to new life!

In The Bosom of Abraham
Rev. Christa Fuller Burns
Faith Presbyterian Church (USA) Baltimore

Luke 16:19-31 – 26 March 2017

Fourth Sunday in Lent

 

After a long illness, a woman died and arrived at the Gates of Heaven. While she was waiting for Saint Peter to greet her, she peeked through the Gates. Se saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting all around were her parents and all the other people she had loved who had died before her.

They saw her and began calling greetings to her – “Hello” “How are you? We’ve been waiting for you!” Good to see you.”

When Saint Peter came by, the woman said to him, “This is such a wonderful place! How do I get in?”

“You have to spell a word,” Saint Peter told her.

“Which word?” the woman asked.

“Love.”

The woman correctly spelled “Love” and Saint Peter welcomed her into Heaven.

About six months later, Saint Peter came to the woman and asked her to watch the Gates of Heaven for him that day. While the woman was guarding the Gates of Heaven, her husband arrived.

“Boy, am I surprised to see you,” the woman said. “How have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing pretty well since you died,” her husband told her. “I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won the lottery. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a big mansion. And my wife and I traveled all around the world. As a matter of fact, we were on vacation and I went water skiing today. I fell, the ski hit my head, and here I am. How do I get in?”

“You have to spell a word,” the woman told him

“Which word?” her husband asked.

“Czechoslovakia.”

What will happen to us when we die? We all want to know that, don’t we? Our adult class has been tackling a series of difficult theological questions during Lent and what happens when we die certainly falls into that category.

The story Jesus told about the rich man and Lazarus seems to be a story about what happens when we die. The rich man is described in great detail. He wears purple robes made of fine linen and eats extravagantly. Outside his gate, lies a poor man, Lazarus who, by the way, is the only person in Jesus’ parables to be named. Lazarus is not only poor, he seems to have leprosy and is covered with sores. Lazarus lives for the possibility the rich man might toss some crumbs his way. However, the only attention Lazarus gets is from the dogs that lick his sores.

Eventually, the poor man dies and is carried up to heaven by angels…”to Abraham’s side” is how it is translated in our reading. The rich man also dies, thereby proving the dictum that death does not discriminate. The rich man is buried and ends up in Hades where he is tormented. He looks up and sees Abraham with Lazarus “by his side”. Hey, Abraham, the rich man shouts, can you get Lazarus to wet his finger and come down here and soothe my parched tongue? The audacity and ignorance of the rich man is hard to fathom, isn’t it? On the other hand, maybe it’s not so hard. I am thinking there are a lot of rich men types out there in our country these days that simply do not get it! In this parable, the rich man doesn’t end up where he does because he is rich. He ends up where he is because he just does not get it. He is oblivious to the suffering right outside his door. Clarence Jordan, in the Cotton Patch Gospel, aptly puts into words Lazarus’ reply: “Lazarus ain’t gonna run no mo yo errans, rich man.”

Abraham reminds the rich man that while he was alive, he was richly blessed while the poor man had nothing but misery. Now it is the poor man’s turn and he is being comforted. In addition, there is a huge chasm between you, rich man, and us. It can’t be bridged.

The rich man, still not getting it, wants to know if Lazarus can’t be sent to warn his brothers so they don’t end up like him. Really?

Abraham tells him that they’ve heard what the prophets and Moses have taught. You know what the prophets taught – how we should be just and righteous and follow God…or else. One particular prophet comes to mind – the prophet Micah. Oh yeah, remember what that prophet said? You shall beat your swords into plowshares and not learn war no more. (4:3) The same Micah said, “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Abraham tells the rich man that if he is not going to listen to the prophets what difference will it make “if someone rises from the dead”. In other words, if I send Lazarus back from the dead to tell your brothers to shape up, you think they’re gonna listen to him?

We think this is a story about what will happen to us when we die – who gets to go to heaven and who will end up in torment.

 

Will Willimon tells a story about a church he once served. One of his parishioners lost a loved one and Willimon and his wife went to the funeral. We pastors do that…attend the funeral even though it isn’t one of ours. It is a way of supporting our people. Plus,you learn stuff at those funerals. You learn about your members, but you also learn about how other churches do. The church, in this case, was a little wood-framed country church. The pastor eventually got into his sermon, red-faced and vehemently preaching about how for the deceased it was too late. It was too late to live a good life. It was too late to be a church-goer. It was too late. But it is not too late for us! It is not too late for us, he railed. On the way home, Willimon turned to his wife and allowed as to how that was just about the worst sermon he’d ever heard at a funeral. Can you believe that guy said what he did? His wife paused for a moment and said “And you know why it was so bad? Because he was right!”

Perhaps, then, the story about Lazarus might not be about what happens to us when we die. Maybe it is about how we live in this life…before it is too late.

In the end, Lazarus is comforted in the lap or by the side of Abraham because of how he lived on earth while the rich man is without comfort because of how he lived on earth.

Now, it seems to me that how we should live is fairly clear in this parable, but isn’t it stunning how many people who claim to be Christian ignore the suffering ones right outside their door? I mean, how else would you interpret this story?

Who is outside our door? Who do we simply refuse to see…because they are potentially dangerous? Because we might get sick if we touch them? Because we are in a hurry and can’t be bothered? Because they might be illegal? Because, well, because there are just so many of them!

We’ve been thinking during this Lenten season about sanctuary – what is sanctuary physically and spiritually? The rich man is safe and sound behind the sanctuary of his gates. The poor man, on the other hand, lies completely exposed without any shelter, like the picture on the front of your bulletins of the refugee family lying without any shelter in the middle of a field. They look so vulnerable and at risk. The rich man could have provided Lazarus with shelter and care. In the end, it is Lazarus who is given shelter and comfort and sanctuary…in the bosom of Abraham.

If you were listening carefully, you perhaps noticed that our translation of Luke’s text did not use the word “bosom”. Lazarus was carried to “Abraham’s side”. When the rich man sees him, he is “at Abraham’s side”. The difference in translations caused me to do some research. The King James Version reads “bosom”. The New English Bible reads “to be with” and “close beside him.” Eugene Peterson’s contemporary translation reads “lap” as does the New International version of the text. Why this discrepancy?

The Bosom of Abraham has very ancient usage. Up until about 1583 CE the use of the phrase referred to the custom of parents holding their children on their laps. Even earlier than this, it is believed that the bosom of Abraham referred to the custom of eating meals in a reclining position, leaning on the chest of the person next to you. If the usage of the Bosom of Abraham has such a long history, why change the translation into something less physical, less intimate? I mean, does “close beside him” have the same meaning as “in the bosom of”? Is it because bosom seems feminine? Is it because bosom seems just a little too close for comfort? A little too intimate for our likes? Too touchy touchy feely feely for us frozen chosen?

Or does changing bosom of Abraham for a description less intimate suggest who we think God is? Are we worried about getting too close to God? Do we think God does not care enough about us to grasp us and hold us tight to God’s self?

There are some beautiful depictions of the bosom of Abraham on the stone columns of Romanesque and Gothic churches in which Abraham is depicted holding a sort of blanket with the souls of the departed close to his chest. These images tell us something about who God is. God is compassionate and nurturing and wants nothing more than to hold us tightly in God’s strong arms.

I love the idea that, in Baptism, God has taken little William Nixon in God’s arms and holds him tight…to the bosom of God.

Why wouldn’t we want that God? Why would we want to change the words from bosom to simply standing nearby? I will tell you what I think. I think we may not want God to be so intimately caring because that means we might have to be so intimately caring. If God is like that…then we should be like that…while we are alive – before it is too late.

Who is outside our gates? Who is outside our church doors? Who is outside…right in front of us that we do not see…this morning? This morning…it is not too late!