"Up and Down the Mountainside" given Feb 26, 2017

 In the Gospel reading for today we encounter Matthew's version of the event which Theologians call "The Transfiguration of Christ." Mark and Luke also contain an account of this wondrous occurrence-- with some minor variations in the telling.

Whichever Gospel you read, Events such as the Transfiguration point out to believers the wonder and mystery of creation and existence. It's one of those rare moments which somehow defy adequate description and comprehension. It’s one of those moments that challenge us to stretch our limited human language and earthbound view of the possible.

For Jesus, it was a moment of confirmation and affirmation of his ministry. For Peter, James, and John, it was a brief glimpse of the transcendent-- the ultimate reality that lies just beyond our everyday existence.

You and I may wonder what a certain Scripture passage has to do with our everyday trials and struggles and triumphs. You may well be wondering what this two thousand year old scene on top of a mountain in the wilderness of Judea has to do with you and your everyday life. You may even be thinking that nothing like that ever happened to you.

The truth is however, that grace-filled moments of deep power and meaning can and do come to all of us in the course of our lives. They don’t have to literally happen on a mountaintop. You and I don't have to actually see a burning bush or a figure bathed in light to know that we're standing on Holy Ground. We don’t have to hear a voice from on high to feel the presence of the Lord.

Perhaps something happened that told you this was a moment when you were really in tune with God's plan for your life. Or looking at the beauty of the world with suddenly fresh eyes, you were struck once again with awe at the majesty of Creation. Or, for no particular reason, you simply felt touched, moved, called, blessed, loved.

In a moment of sudden clarity you knew that it could happen—your life could be transformed and made new. It might have been that healing moment or moments in a 12 step group in which you had “a spiritual awakening”—when you were roused from the daze of addiction and realized that you really could be sober--by staying on the program and with the help your Higher Power.

It might have been something “religious”-- like a week at church camp or an Emmaus weekend, a lay witness mission, or a retreat, or a Communion service in which you experienced that certainty that you were not alone in the Universe. It may have been the moment when you committed yourself totally-- heart, spirit, life-- to the cause of Christ.

On the other hand, it might have been something less conventionally “spiritual” when unexpectedly, the Divine broke in and made the moment sacred. It might even have been “Some Enchanted Evening ”. It could have been your child's graduation-- or your own. It could have been your baby's birth or baptism, your first kiss, your first day on your first job, your wedding, even catching your very first fish.. It might have been a deep and intimate conversation with your father, or mother, or any loved one-- when you felt that they honestly understood what you were saying and why you felt what you did.

In the movie City Slickers, Billy Crystal plays one of three middle-aged guys reminiscing about the “single best day” of their lives.

“I got one,“ he says. “I’m seven years old, and I’m with my dad. We’re at Yankee Stadium. First game. We’re going through this long dark tunnel under the stands and I’m holding his hand. We walk out of the tunnel, and… it was the light. It was huge. How green the grass was, brown the dirt, the great green copper roof, remember? We had a black and white TV so it was my first game in color. (I) sat through the whole game sitting next to my dad. He taught me how to keep score. Mickey hit one out. Great day. I still have the program.”

Most of us have experienced a “great day” or two—when we felt like we were on top of the world, everything’s going well, we’re really happy, confident that we knew all the answers, able to solve any problem that came up. In those moments we feel excited and fully alive, and everything seems new and bright and shining with a whiteness that no bleach could produce.

In sports, we call these being “in the zone”. In religion we call them "mountaintop experiences," and oh how we hate to come down from them! We want to hang on to that moment for as long as we can. So we decide to stay right here and let the rest of the world go by for a while.

"This is so cool! Rabbi, let's build some booths, for you and Moses and Elijah,"

But to freeze any one moment in time shuts off all the possibilities of the next moment. And to strive to recapture and reproduce a certain feeling or experience is to shut out the possibility of so many other equally exciting but different experiences that Our God may have in store for us.

The truth is, there is no one-size-fits-all occurrence of choosing to live sober, or being “saved” or “touched by an angel“, or feeling “closer to God“ or simply “blessed“. There is no single, solitary, obligatory universal experience of God’s grace breaking into our lives. The truth is, mountaintop experiences come in all shapes and sizes and colors-- just as people come in all shapes and sizes and colors. And the truth is-- we cannot fully comprehend, much less re-create such moments. And no matter how hard we try, we cannot even preserve them-- except in our hearts.

"The wind blows where it will, so it is with the Spirit" we read in the Gospel of John. We each of us hear the call of God, and experience the gifts of the Spirit as we need them in our growth as believers, and as we need them in our call to ministry as disciples.

I can still recall watching a young chaplain struggling with his identity as a clergyman in a denomination I'll not name. Oh, he had the requisite gifts. He had experienced the prescribed charismatic experiences. And he readily affirmed the blessing of those moments in his own spiritual life.

But his beloved mother had not. And for all her years in that denomination, she had been considered a second class Christian-- despite her deep faith, despite her active relationship with her Lord, despite her reverent, Godly Christian life. And he could no longer remain in that denomination. I watched him weep, as in his own heart and mind, he said farewell to that religious fellowship he had loved all his life, and prepared to move on to another.

In I Corinthians 12, Paul makes it clear-- indeed he gives a list of the different spiritual gifts given to different believers according to their different needs and calls. He even makes a joke about it-- using the image of the church as the body of Christ-- he asks what if every different organ of the human body wanted to be the same, do the same job? We’d be one big foot, or one big ear or maybe even one big mouth… Come to think of it….

The truth is, any one of us is capable of going up the mountain and looking out on the heights, and being moved-- stirred in our own particular way-- touched and blessed in that unique manner that the Holy Spirit of God knows is right for us at that particular moment in our individual life‘s journey.

The truth is that every one of us must find our own path up the mountain. Billy Graham is nearing the end of a long and wonderful ministry. But were his gifts and ministry anymore significant in God’s plan than the very different gifts and ministry of Martin Luther King? Or of Fred Rogers? Or of Mother Theresa? Or of Bill W. and Dr. Bob?

I can still recall sitting at an open AA meeting and being absolutely astounded at the stories I was hearing. They call them rather whimsically “drunk-a-logues” -- but they are awe inspiring stories of men and women climbing out of their own private hells-- stories of ascent from the pits of despair, the very depths of existence-- stories of recovery, stories of rebuilding one's life made possible only through surrender to their “Higher Power“. At that meeting I attended, somebody remarked that every story there was a miracle story.

And those spiritual ascents were just as precious, just as difficult as any saint climbing a holy hill. For those folks, just to gain and hold the level ground of sobriety was a miracle. For those brothers and sisters, it was an entirely different mountain-- but the accomplishment was just as great, the miracle just as wondrous, the Divine encounter just as profound, and surely just as needed.

The gospel song reminds us that we each must walk that lonesome valley by ourselves. In the same way, going up the mountain is a personal and utterly individual challenge for each and every one of us. One of us might need to ascend it slowly, carefully, a cautious climber, fighting inch by inch for every increase of ground. Another might seem to stroll up as if it were a gentle hill. Some might even soar to the pinnacle like a dove, while others of us must crawl up at a snail's pace.

However we got there—going up the mountain will challenge and stretch us. What we see and experience there will profoundly move us. But equally important, equally significant is what happens as we descend to the valleys and plains of everyday life. That’s the test. If we can't bring down something of value, something that will help us to live our everyday lives as a better person, if we've not been empowered, or changed, or at least grown a bit as a believer, then we might as well have stayed home.

However much we might be awed by the Charleton Heston portrait of Moses receiving the Ten Commandments on the mountaintop, we ought to ask ourselves. Was climbing that mountain a greater accomplishment for Moses than coming down the slope and leading his people through the wilderness for a generation-- leading them out of slavery and into the land of milk and honey?

No doubt the burning bush and the mountaintop moments gave Moses the inspiration to carry on from day to day. But the greatness of Moses’ ministry was also shown in the very act of carrying on-- settling disputes, acting as administrator, high priest, judge, general, and guide through the desert. Without God’s gift to Moses of everyday faithfulness in those commonplace tasks, the Commandments would still be tribal laws rather than the ethical and legal basis of the Western World.

If there were a single image that I would covet for all of us to take away from this message, it would not be the image of Moses displaying the tablets before the people. It would not be Elijah ascending to the heavens on the chariot of fire. It would not be Jesus bathed in light. It would not even be the voice from on high, naming and proclaiming Jesus as Son, as Messiah, and Chosen One.

No, the image I invite you to keep in your mind is of Jesus and Peter and James and John descending the mountain—coming back down filled and renewed with new found strength, humbled and silenced by what they've seen. The image I want to leave is that of Jesus and his disciples plunging back into their world-- to proclaim God's coming Realm, to spread hope and reconciliation and healing love.

By all means let us be aware of where they've just come from. Let us not forget that wondrous moment of spiritual awakening on the mountaintop. But let us also remember where that path down the mountain will eventually lead Jesus.

To heal our broken and tear-stained world. To offer willing service and sacrifice on behalf of others. To preach the coming of the Kingdom. To clothe the naked, feed the hungry, heal the broken ones, stand up for justice, and proclaim the year of God‘s favor. Ultimately, it was the path to His Passion-- to His Cross.

Why walk that path? For the sake of this broken world. For the sake of suffering humanity. For your sake, and for mine. And sisters and brothers, if we would follow Him-- if we would be His disciples-- that’s our path as well.

Bruce Springsteen: THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND

Swing Low

"Love...WHO?" given 2/19/2017

Many of your know that back in the last two weeks of 1995, Donna and I had the opportunity to visit Israel and Egypt. On the Monday after we returned, I called up a long-time friend who lives in another part of the country. He was on another line when I reached his office. While I waited to talk to my friend, I chatted with his secretary. Elizabeth is an evangelical Christian-- a very nice young woman who I've never met face to face. But I've always found to be extremely helpful and friendly and charming on the phone.

When I told her where we’d just been, Elizabeth shared with me that she would be going with her church to the Holy Land in the next month. We talked a while about her excitement at seeing the places where Jesus walked. And she shared with me how much she was particularly looking forward to a re-baptism ceremony on the banks of the Jordan River. When she found that this had been a first-time trip for me, she exclaimed,

"Oh, how I'd love to hear your sermon on your first Sunday back!"

Later in the week, when I turned to Lectionary reading for today, I read, "Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you, turn the other cheek."

I can't imagine anyone visiting Israel and only having the experience that my telephone friend Elizabeth was anticipating. I can't imagine anyone seeing nothing but the holy sights, nothing but the churches and shrines and ruins and digs and places where our Lord Jesus most probably lived and walked. Everywhere we went on those streets and ancient places, we had the experience of being torn away from the spiritual realities of the past, and thrown up against the political reality of violence and oppression in everyday life in that land.

I recall sitting with Donna by the shore of the Sea of Galilee one evening. A young Israeli couple in bathing suits walked by, arm in arm. As they passed us, I could see slung across the young man's back, an assault rifle. I recall standing at the top of Mount Carmel, and glancing sideways at the man I was standing next to. His coat fell open, and tucked into his waist was a handgun.

In a Mission Secondary school in Bethlehem, we met one of the students. He was on crutches, because a stray bullet fired at random into that Arab city, had hit him while he was in his classroom. At the wailing wall, on the streets, even at the Holocaust museum, everywhere we went we saw armed Israelis-- Army, Air Force and police, and just ordinary civilians.

At the Jerusalem city line, our tour bus had to pass through a road block manned by Israeli police and army with automatic weapons trained on the road. The city had been closed to all non-resident Palestinians for six months--even commuters with jobs in Jerusalem could not enter. Everywhere we went, we saw Palestinians being stopped, questioned, searched. Checkpoints dotted the roads. Our guide, a Palestinian Christian commented, "They all carry guns, while we cannot even carry knife in our pockets to cut an apple with."

To be fair, I must tell you that the violence was far from one- sided. One night on TV, we saw the story of an Israeli cab-driver stabbed by three Palestinians. Another night, the news told us that a convoy of Israeli police and Palestinian authority police on the road to Jericho were fired upon.

In the face of all that oppression and violence, our group heard a Israeli speaker express hope in the eventual triumph of peace. People-- both Israeli and Palestinian-he said, were slowly growing more and more tired of living that way. Both sides were slowly coming to a consensus that the time had come to compromise. No one had anymore to gain from the Occupation--except for the fundamentalists and terrorists and crazies on both sides. If they could be kept in check-- maybe there was room to hope. Tragically, subsequent events have proved that hope is still premature.

On Sunday, our Northern Illinois group worshipped at St. George's Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem. We heard an eloquent and moving sermon, preached first in English for us, and then in Arabic for his parishioners, by the Dean of the Cathedral. He described the plight of the Jews in First Century Jerusalem under occupation by the Romans. He compared it with the plight of Twentieth Century Palestinian Christians and Moslems under the current Occupation. He spoke of violence in the New Testament, and violence in his own land and time. He prayed for an end to violence, an end to the Occupation, an end to hatred.

"Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you, turn the other cheek."

Those words come from Jesus' sermon on the mound. They are among the most familiar of his teachings to our ears. When we hear them, they sound like Jesus to us. Their authenticity is unquestioned by us. You and I have heard them many times, but they always have a power to strike at our hearts if we let them. Not that we always live by them, unfortunately. But we know-- at least in our hearts-- that we cannot blithely ignore them.

"Love your enemies. Do good to those who harm you." Those words challenge us, because they are so terribly clear. There's no mystery here. A child can hear these words and understand exactly what Jesus means. A child can hear them, and immediately see how beautiful life would be if men and women were more willing to live by those words. But of course, a child would know how very few men and women in this world have chosen to truly live their lives by those words.

And yet, just the existence of these words in the Gospel makes a difference in the world. Just the very fact that Jesus said them makes a difference in our lives--even if they don't always guide our thoughts and actions. At least these teachings of Jesus serve to make you and to make me, aware that as followers of Christ, we are called to a higher standard, a nobler morality, a different style of life from the rest of the world. We know that we are called to strive, to live, to be something better, something more committed, more serious, more loving, more joyful, more giving and forgiving.

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you." Is civilized life on this planet really possible on such terms? No self-defense? No armies? No national security? No lawsuits?

Just do good and love everybody. Even the drunk driver who totals my car, Jesus? Even the robber who breaks into my house? Even the murderer? Even the rapist? Even the exploiter and oppressor? Even the polluter? Even them, Jesus? Even them, despite what they've done?

And Jesus answers, "to the one who strikes you on your cheek, turn the other cheek. From the one who would take your cloak, offer also your shirt." Are you kidding Jesus? Can he really be serious? Does Jesus really mean all that, or are those merely impossible ideals--platitudes that would be nice to live up to?

Look at Jesus' own life and witness. It was more than naive, impractical ideals for Him. He forbade His followers to defend Him with violence when He was arrested. He healed the severed ear of one of those who came to arrest Him. He prayed for his accusers and executioners, even after they had mocked and tortured Him, even while He hung on the cross, dying.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote:

Probably no admonition of Jesus has been more difficult to follow than the command, "Love your enemies." Some... have sincerely felt that its actual practice is not possible. It is easy, they say, to love those who love you, but how can one love those who openly and insidiously seek to defeat you?.. Jesus, they say, was an impractical idealist.

In spite of these insistent questions and persistent objections, this command of Jesus challenges us with a new urgency. Upheaval after upheaval has reminded us that modern man is traveling along a road called hate, in a journey that will bring us to destruction and damnation. Far from being the pious injunction of a utopian dreamer, the command to love one's enemy is an absolute necessity for our survival. Love even for enemies is the key to the solution of the problems of the world. Jesus is not an impractical idealist; He is the practical realist..."

Dr. King was right. Jesus was a practical man. He was born homeless. He was a political refuge as an infant. He grew up alongside the poorest of the poor. He was part of a family, with parents and brothers and sisters and all the love and occasional squabbles that entails. He made a living with his hands, performing hard physical labor. He lived for thirty years in a small town up in the boondocks. After His first sermon in his hometown, the people Jesus grew up with tried to throw Him off a cliff.

Jesus knew-just as well, if not better than you or I know-- what everyday life in this world is like. So there's no doubt that Jesus understood just how hard it can be to love your enemy. He never spoke of the ethical life, the moral life, the path of discipleship as being easy. On the contrary, Jesus warned us time and time again that we might well be persecuted or ostracized for following His way. He warned us that it was a way of sacrifice.

Jesus realized that you and I can only genuinely and totally love, after we've freely committed our lives, our time, our gifts, our total selves to the God who made us. So when Jesus told us "Love your enemy", He knew that was really a call to total self-surrender to the Will of our Maker.

Yet He meant every word of it. Our responsibility as His followers is to figure out how to live out that "love your enemy" ethic in our everyday lives. Our Lord in turn, promises that if we will make the effort to forgive, the power to love will be there.

Love your enemies and pray for them. Does Jesus mean "love" in the emotional sense? No. Not at least, at first. Eventually we may be able to come to that point. But on the most basic level, loving our enemies means no more and no less than not wanting them to do or to suffer any wrong or evil. Then working slowly with prayer, we can come to a point where we wish them good—ultimate good in their lives-- then very same ultimate good that you and I l wish for when we love our own selves. Still, it's a tall order.

How is the Israeli mother supposed to will the good of the Palestinian boys who throw rocks at her son in the streets? How is the Irish widow supposed to will the good of the terrorist who blows up a pub in which her husband is having a drink? How is the longtime employee who's been laid off supposed to will the good of the personnel director who made the decision?

Around 395, St. Augustine wrote "If I had slain thee when thou wast mine enemy, how could I have made thee my friend?" Augustine also warns us that if we pray that God might slay the wicked one, Our God will reply, "Which one of you?"

We've all heard the old preacher's saying that must learn to love the person, but not their deeds. In order for us to be able to do that, we must first learn to divorce our enemy from their enmity. When you and I have been wronged, we are perfectly clear to oppose the wrong done to us. We are perfectly free to resent the enmity in the heart of our enemy. We are perfectly free to hate the evil that is at the heart of that enmity

But we are not free to hate or to resent that person. We are only free to pray that God might cleanse this person from the power of the evil within them. That, after all, is willing their greatest good, if you think about it. That, after all, is loving our enemy.

If we can come to see that those we call our enemies are just as human-just as vulnerable-just as much a child of God as we are, maybe we can at least get to the point of being able to pray for them-- even if all we can pray is that God will forgive them because we can't. At least that's a start.

Sooner or later, we must get around to working to be reconciled with our enemy, that their enmity toward us may be banished. Sooner or later, we must begin to try and forgive the wrongs they have done us. Perhaps we can even bring them, by the witness of our forgiveness, to Jesus Christ.

You and I can learn to develop and maintain within ourselves the power, the habit of forgiving. Anyone unable to forgive is unable to love. It's impossible even begin to think about loving our enemies unless we accept in our own minds and hearts, the necessity of forgiveness. We may well need to forgive over and over again. It won't always be easy. It may take us a lifetime.

But that is the most profound way-the only way really, of praying for those who oppose us. We may even find ourselves forgiving those who haven't even asked for it. That too, is willing their greatest good. That too, is loving our enemies. As Dr. King reminds us, preaching on “The Prodigal Son”, the person wronged is the only person who can initiate forgiveness.

"The wrongdoer may request forgiveness. He may come to himself, and like the prodigal son, move up some dusty road, his heart palpitating with the desire for forgiveness. But only the injured neighbor, the loving father back home, can really pour out the warm water of forgiveness."

Let us pray,

Lord Jesus, even on the cross, you forgave. Even on the cross, you loved. Teach us how to forgive. Empower us to begin to love, even those who oppose and harm us. Teach us by your example, and by the love that you so freely offer to us in our lives, how to want to love and forgive. Amen.

Taizé - Our Father

Taizé - Bless the Lord

Taize" The Apostles' Creed

'Choose Life and LIVE!" given 2/12/2017

 Question: "Given the choice between good and evil--life and death-- you would choose life, wouldn't you?

Of course we all would. Wouldn’t we? But the choice isn't always straightforward for all people in all situations. You and I don't have a Moses, standing before us on the plains of Moab, addressing his farewell speech to us, who have followed faithfully through the wilderness for a generation.

The choices you and I face in this life aren't always clear-cut or easy. The Commandment says, "Thou shalt not kill." But society calls upon its young men and women to kill in time of war. Or what about abortion in a case of incest or rape? What about the option of suicide for a terminally ill person?

The Commandment says, "Honor thy father and thy mother." But which is more honoring-- placing an aging, ill parent in a nursing home, or disrupting our own family life by attempting to give twenty-four hour care at home? The choice is suddenly not so simple.

"Thou shalt not bear false witness", says the Commandment. But do we always immediately tell a terminally ill person that they're dying? Or Will worrying about it make their last days easier or more difficult? What if we fear that knowledge might drive them to take their own life?

"Thou shalt not commit adultery." says the Commandment. I heard the other day of a man who is suing his wife for divorce on grounds of adultery. He named as co-respondent a man whose name his wife didn't know and who she'd never met face to face. Who was her partner in adultery? Some guy she'd been exchanging steamy mash notes with on the Internet.

"Choose life and live!" said Moses. Conflicting ethical dilemmas are not original to us. The technology may be new, the opportunities for straying may be multiplied, but the choices are age-old. The people Moses was addressing had to make daily choices--for God, for the good, and for life. Just as you and I must, as well..

At times we may well need to devote considerable thought and prayer in making a particular moral choice. But sometimes we may not have the luxury of time in order to decide. Many times we find ourselves faced with the immediate choice between two, or even more, very difficult and painful, contrasting paths in this life. Other times, the choices between right and wrong, life and death can come in small, subtle ways. Sometimes we even have to look closely in order to determine that we're making a choice at all! “Not to decide is to decide” wrote theologian Paul Tillich.

Yet we make these choices every day. We choose to get out of bed, or to stay in bed. We choose to get involved with other people, or to withdraw. We choose to make a definite stand, or to let things take their course. We choose to take a risk, or to seek the illusion of security. We choose to grow, or to stay the same; to be honest, or to fudge; to be true to who we are, or to follow the crowd; to live for ourselves, or for others. We make all these choices because we must. That's the way God made us-- we are free. That’s our blessing—but at times it can be our curse.

Yes, we’re free. Yes, we can and we must choose. Yes, the evil and wickedness and wrong in our flawed and incomplete Creation are not of Divine making. But, and this is at the very heart of what I'm driving at, you and I are able to choose ONLY through the grace of the One who made us.

That free gift of grace empowers us to struggle against the imperfection of this life and all of the alienation and apart-ness that lie within us. We CAN rise above our own petty natures. We CAN rise above our own internal confusion and alienation. We CAN rise above all the sin and broken-ness of this world. We CAN choose and live in the light and good and in God and life. And when we DO choose light and life and God and good, there becomes available to us the strength to live out that choice.

But do we always necessarily choose well?

The question on the job application read: “Have you ever been arrested?”

The applicant printed the word “No” in the blank.

The next question was a follow-up to the first. “Why?”

The applicant answered truthfully, “I guess it’s because I never got caught.”

"Choose life and live!" But how do we choose? In a world where traditional values are continually called into question, in a diverse society where ethical issues become more and more complex and conflicting, we need a unfailing moral touchstone. We must have a guide. How can we choose alone? The truth is, we cannot.

That was the dilemma of the emerging Habiru or Hebrew nation during their Exodus from captivity in Egypt. By the time of the Exodus, they had become a mixed bag of peoples, customs and tribes, beliefs and cultures. All they really had in common were overlapping legends of a distant clan of nomadic ancestors with names like Abram and Sarai, Jacob and Rachel who had worshipped a single God— a single, sojourning God who had accompanied their forebears on their odysseys and promised them a home in a legendary land of milk and honey.

In order to survive, in order to become a single people, these disparate peoples desperately needed a set of commonly agreed upon rules for relationships and behavior. Acting through their leader Moses, God gave them the Ten Commandments, basis of the Laws of Moses.

This Law, made up of the Commandments and their subsequent elaborations and interpretations over the generations was to become the distinguishing mark of the people Israel-- even unto our own time. The Law became the fundamental glue that held their society together. Faithful adherence to this Law was the basis of what Jesus refers to as the "righteousness of the Scribes and the Pharisees" in this morning's Gospel.

In a time of deep national need, God provided Israel with a ethical system, a religious framework for living together, an external morality imposed through the Laws of Moses. And it worked—to an extent. But what about us, and our time?

A recent cartoon in the New Yorker showed two clean-cut, middle-aged men sitting in a jail cell. One inmate turns to the other and says, “All along, I thought our level of corruption fell well within community standards.”

Many believe we have a crisis in our country—a crisis of honesty, integrity, ethics, morality—what the Bible simply calls “righteousness”. If we as a nation are also caught in a time of deep, spiritual need, where do we find a basis of our morality?

Hemingway wrote that “What is moral is what you feel good after. What is immoral is what you feel bad after.” The late novelist John D. MacDonald coined in one of his books what he called “Meyer's Law”. "In a situation of moral confusion and ethical ambiguity, the hardest choice is almost invariably the right choice."

Either might work well enough for an individual secular person, but what about someone who, like us, has chosen to call our self by the name of Jesus Christ? Is our guide to be found in the Commandments? Or the interpretations of the rabbis? Shall we stone a disobedient child? Or condemn someone for wearing clothes made up of more than one fabric? Shall we keep kosher, or pray in Hebrew, or refrain from trimming our beards and sideburns?

Or can we find our guide for everyday living in the specific examples in the Sermon on the Mount? Are these to be the basis for our ethical decisions for the life choices we must make? Shall we cut off our hand if it offends us? Cast out our eye? Are we to take that seriously?

What does that mean in our day and age, our society? I don't know about you, but if I were to follow that teaching literally, I'd be so whittled away that about the only part of me to get into heaven might be my big toe—okay, okay, my little toe--and I'm not too sure about that!

The underlying touchstone we are searching for, the under-girding value, our guide for always choosing life and good and God, is found not in the Commandants or even in the Sermon on the Mount. Before we can even begin to understand these teachings, we must first absorb one simple statement of Jesus'.

That statement is the heart of the Commandments, the heart of the Sermon on the Mount, the heart of our faith, the heart of all of Jesus' teachings. It is not only the moral basis for the living of our lives, but the only rational basis for choosing life. In last Sunday’s Reading, Jesus told us,

"Do not suppose that I have come to abolish the Law and the prophets. I did not come to abolish, but rather to fulfill."

Not unthinking obedience for the sake of obedience, but fulfillment in our freely

given, joyful obedience. Here is our touchstone, here is our guide-- the person of Jesus

Christ. Remember those bracelets evangelical teenagers used to wear? WWJD?

Jesus demands from us a new and radical kind of obedience to our God. It is an obedience based first and foremost upon Him and His example. Through the life of Jesus, his teachings and ministry and willing sacrifice of Himself for the sake of the world, Jesus calls—invites us each to true righteousness, to true freedom, to true choice, to true humanity, to true and abundant, and eternal life. Choose life-- and live!

Look deep into what Jesus has to say. Listen carefully to His word. Through his teachings, you and I are able to transcend the straightforward external prohibitions and imperatives of the Commandments. In Him, the Law is completed and perfected and fulfilled. He allows us not simply to keep but to joyously move beyond simple "thou shalt-nots" and "thou shalts" and embrace lives of true freedom and obedience in His love.

Choose life and live! Jesus is saying up there on the Mount that what is just as important as our actions is what lies within our hearts. His Holy Spirit can enable us to do more, become better people than just rule-followers. Our Maker invites us to a transforming goodness, a righteousness that begins within us, rather than with our behavior. “I will write my covenant on their hearts” says the Holy God in Jeremiah.

Why? Because it’s within our deepest hearts, our motives, our intentions, our attitudes that true change, true growth, true righteousness must begin. Jesus invites us at our very deepest level, to choose to grow into true goodness rather than simply do good things on the surface of our lives.

Our Savior invites us to go beyond the Commandment not to kill and root out of our hearts the hatreds, the prejudices, the contempt and jealousies that make us all into potential killers. Jesus calls us to be peacemakers- -in our personal lives as well as in our world. We must begin by learning to reconcile our differences with others. We must learn to respect and love them as fellow children of God.

Our Lord calls us to go beyond the simple Commandment not to commit adultery and root out from our hearts the sinful Lust that makes us all into potential lechers. This is not the appropriate God-given, feelings of intimacy for a loved one in a committed relationship. No, Jesus is talking about that desire for an inappropriate partner or experience, that willingness within us to use another person as nothing but an object, a pin-up, to satisfy our own ego and urges.

Our Redeemer calls us to be pure of heart. When we know and respect someone else as a real, live person-- someone’s child or parent or partner or parent, when we respect them as a fellow child of God, we can honor the relationships they have already committed themselves to, how can we consider them as an anonymous package of flesh to fantasize over or exploit?

We must root out of our hearts the willingness to cut ethical corners now and then, our unscrupulous ability to make things easy for ourselves by seeing the other as someone to fool, an adversary to put something over on, a dupe to delude for our convenience. We must root out of our hearts that willingness to compromise with the truth and then turn around and justify their wrongdoings that make us all into potential liars.

At the center of all moral systems are human relationships. You and I cannot engage in true worship, true fellowship, we cannot be in honest relationship with our Maker when hate or lust or falsehood is in our hearts. When we see or treat others as less than us, we’re saying to ourselves that they are less than human, less than beloved children of the same God we worship. Can we claim to love our Maker and not be in reconciliation with our neighbor? Can we come before the Altar of God with resentment burning in our hearts? Jesus' answer is clear.

"First be reconciled, then come back and present your gift before the Altar."

This from the one who forgave all, even upon the cross. Can you and I do that all of the time, to everyone who wrongs us, in every situation? Can we respond to this call? Can we root from our hearts all of the hatred and distrust and anger and envy that mar our relationships with others? Hands please? Notice that you didn't see mine either.

Of course we can't do that! Not alone at any rate. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or inadequate. I'm simply pointing to our mutual, fallible humanity. None of us can make it.. alone. None of us can live out a righteousness that surpasses that of the scribes and the Pharisees.. alone. None of us can be that kind, that generous, that forgiving, that loving person that we'd like to be all of the time.. alone. None of us can be the person that God has called us to become.. alone.

But we all can at least begin, in our hearts, to choose to try and become that person. When? When you and I choose to walk in the way of our Savior. How? By choosing to avail ourselves of the forgiving, transforming Grace of the One who made us and the power of God's Holy Spirit. Where? How about right here? When? Why not now? How?

Let us pray,

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on us. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on us. Melt us, mold us, fill us, use us. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on us-- that we might, this day and every day, be encouraged and empowered to be reconciled to one another, to choose God, and to live! Amen.

Bonhoeffer on Stupidity

PAUL ROBESON -THIS LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE

Woody Guthrie- This Land Is Your Land

"Light and Salt" given Feb. 5, 2017

"You are the salt of the earth." Jesus told them. "You are the light of the world."

Notice. He did not say you ought to be light or salt. He did not say that you ought to become these things. Neither did he say that you ought to be like salt or like light. He simply told them that you are to be light, you are to be salt. Not an imperative or even a command or an invitation. Not a simile, or even a metaphor. It was a simple affirmation, a straightforward statement of fact. Present tense. You ARE salt. You ARE light.

Jesus apparently didn't feel that it was too terribly necessary for him to explain those statements. In the first place, he was drawing on the historic teaching and preaching tradition of the Hebrew faith. Salt and light were images commonly used by the rabbis in their teachings as symbols for the Law. But more than that, Jesus didn't explain what salt and light meant because he didn't have to. Any of his listeners could have told you what light meant, what salt meant to them. They are basic. They are both absolutely essential to human life.

Can you imagine living without light? The next time you blow a fuse or trip a circuit breaker, think about living in darkness all the time. I’m reminded me of the Summer of 1995, when our Parsonage was literally without light or any power, on the same night that began the heat wave in which over 500 people died in Chicago. I’m sure many of you could mention similar experiences.

Forget about fans and air conditioning in Summer. Forget about central heating in Winter. Was there ever a time when the power lines that feed your home were down for a few minutes, or hours, or even days? Try to imagine not having electricity at all—ever. Imagine day to day life in a drafty-in-the-Winter, stifling-in-the-Summer, one- room, mud-and-straw, hut in First Century Palestine.

Imagine if your sole defense against the surrounding darkness every single night was a shallow pan of olive oil with a single, flickering, wick floating in it. Think about how afraid you'd be of the night. Try to envision the demons and devils that your imagination would conjure up to populate the darkness of the outside world. Imagine how precious that little lamp would be to you. It would literally transform your life--make it worth living. It would show you the truth about your world, banish the unknown, conquer your fears, give you confidence and hope.

John in his Gospel says that Jesus did all those things for humanity, that He was The True Light. And in the same way, Jesus Himself says in the Sermon on the Mount that we-- his followers are also light—the light of the world. We are the hope of the lost and lonely. We reflect his light, and in so doing, illumine the way of eternal life. The light of our lives may well be the only Bible that some folks in this world will ever read.

We are the ones, who by the light of our faith, will conquer the demons of hatred and prejudice and violence in human life. We are the ones, who by the light of our love, can bring confidence and hope and offer the healing and wholeness that Christ brings to the broken-hearted, the grieving, the addicted, the despairing and sin- sick. We are the ones, who by the light of our witness, can banish the unknown and show the world the truth about this man Jesus and his teachings. We are the ones. We are light.

Can you imagine living totally without salt? Some of us may be on salt-free diets, but the truth is, no diet can ever be 100% salt free. We may not realize it, with all our modern day efforts to combat high blood pressure and arterial sclerosis; but a certain, miniscule amount of natural salt is absolutely necessary to human life. As necessary as carbohydrates, or protein, or vitamins, or minerals, or even water.

In the ancient world, all food did not come pre-salted as it does today. Salt was a precious commodity, sought and mined, bought and sold, transported by ship or caravan, just like gold or precious metals. Salt was used for far more than flavoring your scrambled eggs. In those days before refrigeration, salt was needed to preserve food-- by curing it. Salt also served to transform food--as a fresh brisket becomes a corned beef, or a head of cabbage is transformed into sauerkraut by immersion in brine--salt water.

In the same way Jesus says we, by our mission and presence in the world, are salt. We are the ones, who by the salt of our mission, will find ways to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, bring hope to the abandoned and imprisoned. We are the ones, who by the salt of our love, can flavor and transform the lives of the aged, inspire the young, fill the empty existence of the searching.

We are the ones, who by the salt of our involvement and commitment, are preserving the earth from nuclear holocaust and/or ecological collapse. We are the ones. We are salt.

But, Jesus reminds us, salt can lose its' flavor, its' integrity, its' identifying quality. That doesn't always happen all at once, but gradually. So gradually in fact, that those to whom it is happening will not recognize they are changing. Later, they will not be able to identify a single moment when they lost their saltiness--their faith, or hope, or commitment. It's not usually an intentional loss--more of a drifting away.

It's as if the moisture of conflict or inertia or apathy, combined with plain disuse over time leaked into the salt shaker and congealed the salt. And when that happened, it became a hard mass that would not shake out into the world. And when that happens, asks Jesus, what good is it?

Or says our Lord, look how easy it is to lose your initiative in mission and take up a posture of defense against the world. Look how easy it is to shut out pain and suffering of this dirty, sin- sick earth and build a fortress--a beautiful city on a hill where you can be protected from the abuse and controversy that true faithfulness and witness will invariably bring. There on the hill you can be safe, among your own kind, peaceful--for a time.

But sooner or later your increased visibility will bring the world, knocking at your door. Sooner or later you'll begin to squabble among yourselves. Sooner or later you'll begin to stagnate. Sooner or later you will have to deal with the challenges and need lying just outside the church walls—just across the parking lot.

You can put your light under a bushel basket. You can try to hide it from the hostility and trials of the world. Certainly that will reduce the chance of your light being blown out. But you'll pay a price, says Jesus. The price for such protection is a return to the darkness. If no one else can see your light under your bushel, you won't be able to see it either.

Salt the earth. Light up the world. Jesus tells us up there on the mount. His way is a way of mission and compassion. His way is the way of witness and benevolent involvement in the life of this world and its' peoples. His way is a way of risk and initiative in hopeful trust that the Creator's praise will be increased and the coming of God's Holy Realm of Shalom will be hastened.

Christ's way is not an individual way to solitary holiness. We are indeed called as individuals. And we each of us commit our lives to his service individually, to be sure. But the way of life of Jesus is always a way lived in community. You can't be a believer alone. Sure you can be a hermit, or go on solitary retreat for prayer and devotional time, but that is for renewal—not a life style.

Even monks and nuns from contemplative orders live together and come together for worship and corporate prayer. Christ's way of life is not a way of self—not self-isolation, not self-interest, nor self-involvement, nor self-aggrandizement, nor self-defense. To try to walk that way, to live your life that way is to abandon Christ and his teachings all together.

The life of faith is life in community. Why? Because only in community do we learn and grow and practice the real stuff of faith—mercy, love, forgiveness, service.

We are salt. But not stuck in the shaker. We are light. But not hid under a bushel. We are his followers. But not apart from one another. We are His church. But not stuck up on a hill far away somewhere.

We are to touch lives--through ordinary acts of kindness and compassion to those whom we encounter in our day to day lives. As well as through the supporting ministries of missionaries who go where we cannot go in His name. We are to feed his sheep--through benevolences and food pantries and soup kitchens abroad and in our own cities. We are to shelter the homeless--through ministries like PADS and Habitat and work-mission trips and whatever other programs we can participate in or support from Rockford, to Lindenhurst, to Chicago, or Haiti, or Moscow, or Cairo.

We are to heal the broken ones-- through hospitals and counseling centers and healing ministries, and disaster relief our denomination supports around the world. We are to transform our society--through our votes, our giving, our advocacy, our organizing, our influence on leaders, our involvement.

We are to minister--in our giving, our caring, our listening, our praying, our reaching out to sisters and brothers in need. We are to witness to the transforming power of Christ's Gospel—not only through the everyday living of our lives, but as foster parents, and tutors and child advocate. We are to prepare the world for His return. We are to illumine and flavor and preserves and transform it, in Christ's own Holy Name.

Let us pray.

           Loving Christ, we hear your affirmation that we are light and salt. We know that as your disciples we are a part of your redeeming work in the world. Too often we fall silent before injustice and stand by when confronted by wrong. Too often we hide our light. Too often our lives are flavorless. Forgive us, Lord Christ, when we fail to be who we really are. Help us to speak and act out our witness of love and justice in your name. Free us in your Gospel to offer ourselves in service and love to this, your world. Amen.