Genesis 12:1-4a

This morning we remember the story of some of our ancestors: Father Abraham and Mother Sarah.

As with so many biblical stories, we know only the bare outlines of this one. We know who Abraham’s male forbearers were, going all the way back to Noah: you can read about them in Genesis Chapter 11. We don’t know what Sarah’s lineage is, or anything else about her, other than that she is married to Abraham, and has yet to produce any children. We know that Abraham’s father, Terah, settled in Ur, a place to the east of Canaan, in Babylonia. We know that Terah decided to travel from Ur towards Canaan with Abraham and with Sarah and with his grandson, Lot. Their journey takes them up north, to a place called Haran, and they stop to settle there. While they are in Haran, Terah dies at the age of 205.

Then God’s voice comes to Abraham, a new patriarch at 75, saying: “Go out from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing… in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”  So Abraham goes, obedient to the voice of God; and Sarah and Lot go with him.

This is just the beginning of the biblical tale about this family. Abraham and Sarah and Lot travel west to Canaan and then south to Egypt and then back to Canaan again. Sarah is handed over to Pharaoh and Lot is kidnapped in a clash of local kings. An Egyptian servant named Hagar has a son named Ishmael with Abraham; Sarah has a son named Isaac with Abraham; Hagar and Ishmael are sent into the desert to die and then saved by an angel of God; Abraham goes up a mountain to sacrifice Isaac and an angel intervenes again. Isaac goes on to father Jacob and Esau, who have children of their own. These four verses of Genesis are just the beginning of a great biblical family saga. But let’s stay for now with just these four verses. We can learn so much from how a story begins. What can we learn from this beginning?

The Lord said to Abram, “Go out from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”  Those of us who are descended from Abraham are by nature immigrants. God calls us out of our present circumstances into something, or some place, new.

Abram’s call is not the first or the last example. The people of God have been so many places.  We came up out of Egypt to the promised land; we sang songs while in exile in Babylonia; we persisted under Roman colonial rule. Looking beyond the biblical era, Jewish peoples and the Jewish faith have survived despite diaspora and discrimination and devastating violence. Meanwhile, Christians developed our communities by going underground into secret catacombs and later by sailing across the Atlantic in search of a more perfect expression of our faith.

The descendants of Abraham have always been immigrants. Perhaps it is our history of wandering that has made us so committed to hospitality. Moses relays God’s instructions that “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 12, 22; Leviticus 19, 23, 24). Jesus tells those who follow him to welcome the stranger. And the Prophet Mohammad says, “Let the believer in God and the Day of Judgment honor his guest.”

We, the descendants of Abraham, are immigrants and wanders, strangers in strange lands and spiritual pilgrims. God calls us to let go of our attachment to our home, our family, and our nation, to belong ultimately to God alone. God calls us to be a part of something new that God is doing. God calls us to be faithful even in changing and challenging circumstances that have nothing to do with God’s will.

The Lord said to Abram, “Go out from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you.”

We, the children of Abraham, are immigrants. God calls us out of where we have been, of how we have been. And as we take the risk of following that call, God blesses us.

What does it mean to be blessed? As we know from watching Abraham and his family, to be blessed does not mean to have it easy. It does not mean perpetual happiness or even protection from hardship.

God’s blessing is harder to qualify.  We receive it in moments of beauty and surprises of joy, in unexpected endurance towards the end of a long journey, in belly laughs in the midst of grief, in a hand to hold, and communities of faith to rely on.  These are some of God’s blessings, which are abundant and yet too often hard to find, hard to recognize, hard to accept into our hearts.

We are immigrants, and along the difficult way of change and challenge God blesses us in strange and marvelous ways.  God’s blessings are what make it possible for us to survive and even sometimes to thrive, no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in.

The Lord said to Abram, “Go out from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing… in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

God calls us to new things, and gives us blessings along the way for a purpose.  It is, in the end, so that we can be a blessing:  a blessing to ourselves; a blessing to those we love; a blessing to all the families of the earth; a blessing to our Creator.

When I read this line, I think of the three great Abrahamic traditions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. In Jewish tradition Abraham is the founding father of the Jewish Covenant, the first faithful Jew. In Christianity, Abraham’s faith is lifted up by the Apostle Paul, who sees his trust in God as an example for all believers. In Islam, Abraham as both a patriarch and a prophet, a model of faith, a friend of Allah.

Think about all of the people around the world who are lifting up their prayers today to the God of Abraham, with many names: Allah, Ha-Shem, Adonai, Theos, Abba.  We give glory to the God who calls us to belong to love first; and to share compassion with all other travelers through this world.  When we are faithful to this call, we can between us bless just about every family on this earth.

Today is the second Sunday in Lent. Last week, we talked about loosening the soil of our hearts, to make room for what will happen next.  I hope you are trying some prayers, some practices, to loosen things up.  Last week we also prepared some pots of loose soil and planted tiny marigold seeds in them. Now, they are sprouting and reaching up here on our common table and in many of your homes.

When we consider how we are called to grow in this season, where will we find the seed, the start, the beginning? Perhaps we can find it in the beginning of Abraham’s story. Is God calling us to faithfulness in the midst of a new thing? Is God offering us a blessing we have yet to recognize or accept? Is God inviting us to be a blessing to others?  Perhaps we can even use our blessings, and our privileges, to be a blessing to those other children of Abraham who are facing defamation, and deportation, and bomb threats, and desecration of burial grounds, in this nation that claims so often to be Christian.

Let us count our blessings. We are children of Abraham and Sarah, part of an ancient lineage of faith.  We are children of God, and we belong first and foremost to love. We are blessed, not to set us apart from others, but to bind us closer to them: to be a blessing to every family in the world. May it be so. Thanks be to God.

Matthew 4:1-11

As Lent begins each year, we retell the story of how Jesus goes out after his baptism into the wilderness.  We remember that he spends forty days and nights praying and fasting until he is famished, and then talking with the devil and receiving angelic visitors. I wonder: why would Jesus do this?

In our tradition, wilderness time is holy. Time in the wilderness, in our scriptures, is not a punishment, but an opportunity.  It’s a way to prepare ourselves for the new things God will do in us and in the world.  Noah and his family spend forty days and forty nights sailing in a wilderness of water, preparing to be part of the renewal of creation. Moses and the Israelites spend forty years traveling through a desert wilderness, preparing to be free people in a faithful society in the Promised Land.

Now it is Jesus’ turn for wilderness time, time to prepare for public ministry. Jesus uses this time to consider the temptations he will face in his ministry and to practice his resistance.  Jesus resists the temptation to use his power for his own security, to make bread out of stones.  Jesus resists the temptation to use his power to impress others, to stage a dramatic angelic rescue.  Jesus resists the temptation to use his power to possess and to rule.

Jesus needs wilderness time to prepare himself to use the great power he has for holy purposes.  And his preparation works – we know the rest of the story. When Jesus starts to preach and teach, does he only feed himself?  No, he feeds great crowds of hungry people. When Jesus works miracles, does he do it for his own glory? No, he does it to heal other people.  When Jesus gains a lot of attention and followers, does he try to become an earthly king? No, he works to strengthen the kingdom of heaven among us.

Jesus spends his time in the wilderness getting ready for ministry. And it works; it strengthens and changes him. What will we do with our wilderness time?  Our church calendar provides us with forty days of wilderness time every year during Lent, whether we want it or not. Lent is a time to fast, a time to pray, a time to look within, a time to struggle, a time to prepare for whatever will come next. What will we do with our wilderness time?

Some of us here today started a season of wilderness before our liturgical season began.  There are those among us who are already in a major transition, or a time of deep self-reflection, or a time of grief or pain.  For these folks, I hope the changes in our liturgy, the resources for prayer, will support what you are already experiencing, and help you to feel the presence of God, and the ministrations of the angels, in your wilderness.

What about the rest of us? Those of us who are more or less persisting? Why should we embrace a wilderness time?

If you take a good look at the ground this week, you’ll see that it’s grown hard during the winter. The cold has frozen it. The snow has pressed down on it. Water has drained through the soil, compacting it even more. The ground is hard; I tried to fix our rainbow flags this morning, but there was no budging them. I have trouble imagining any new life ever pushing itself up through the soil out there.

So it is with many of us.  We may not be in crisis, but we are still compressed by the challenges of life. We have developed habits of thinking and acting to cope with ordinary and extraordinary challenges. These habits, while helpful, also make us hard and inflexible, impervious to new spiritual growth.

For us, the liturgy and the spiritual disciplines of Lent can help to loosen the soil of our hearts; make some room for air, and water, and even seeds. Lent can be an opportunity to open ourselves to the new thing God is trying to do in us, and in the world around us.

On Wednesday night, some folks gathered here for Ash Wednesday.  We decorated tin cans as pots and filled them: with stones, and then with soil, and then with two marigold seeds; and then with water. The younger folks who were there prepared some containers for our table, too. Some of them already have tiny sprouts in them; come and look after the service.

Those of you who weren’t there, of any age, I hope you will come and make your own pot after worship in North Hall.   Let’s all keep some loose soil near us this season. As we water it, and smell the soil, and watch for a sprout, and hope for a flower, we can be nurturing our spirits as well, and watching for signs of growth.

Lent isn’t a punishment. It is an opportunity. I hope you will seize it. Come to church every week if you can. Pray at home. Choose a fast. Make space for silence. Wrestle with your demons. Watch for angels. Try something new for these forty days and nights that will loosen and enrich the soil of your heart. God invites us to grow. Thanks be to God.

Isaiah 58:1-12

This passage from the Prophet Isaiah that is often part of our worship on Ash Wednesday is a challenging one.  The prophet tells us just how badly we have been getting it wrong.

You’ve been getting it wrong, Isaiah says. You haven’t been loving God or your neighbor in the ways that you should. And not only that.  You’re hypocrites! You make a big show of your humility and holiness while harming those who are most vulnerable and fighting with each other.

God’s vision of faithfulness, Isaiah tells us, is something quite different. To be truly faithful, we must set aside false humility and empty holiness.  Instead, we can express our faith by embracing practices of connection, compassion, generosity, and justice.

Isaiah’s words are hard to hear. And in some ways they represent everything that people worry a service like Ash Wednesday will be like: heavy on the guilt, setting impossible standards, making us feel terrible about ourselves.

I do think Isaiah has a point.  So much of what passes for religiosity is awful, from glossy cards filled with harmful platitudes to people wielding scripture as a tool of hate. You can find someone who calls themselves a Christian supporting just about any position or platform. And for all of us, it is a challenge to let God’s law, God’s love, change our lives as profoundly as it could.

Isaiah has a point.  So much of what passes for religiosity is awful, and all of it is imperfect.  We get confession and remorse wrong, too.  A lot of the negative feelings that we carry around about ourselves have nothing to do with sin.  Instead, they are harmful judgements from within or from without about our bodies, and our accomplishments, and our self-worth.  Even when we feel badly about the right things – even when we recognize our true sins, the things that really do separate us from God – our regret is heavier and more permanent than it should be. We carry around so much shame and guilt and self-hate as permanent baggage.

God requires none of this heavy lifting. Centering our life on God, we are invited to free ourselves from all harmful judgements and recognize our true worth.  And once we have repented for the things that have really stood between us and God, God offers to take their weight off of our shoulders too.  Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, Jesus says, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

What can we receive, if we take Jesus up on his invitation?  What can we receive, if we decide to heed Isaiah’s warnings?  What can we receive, if we release our burdens and confess our sins and accept God’s forgiveness?

“Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly.  Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and God will say, Here I am… The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.”

Good news. Good news, for us and for all.

What harmful judgements about yourself do you need to let go of, recognizing that you are God’s precious and beloved child?  What sins can you confess today, so that God might unburden your heart?  What might change, if you chose Jesus’ easy yoke, and God’s healing? How could you rebuild your heart and be part of the movement to restore our communities?

Matthew 5:38-48

How can we love this law?

Last week we began struggling with this strange passage from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in the gospel of Matthew. Jesus takes passages of scripture and pieces of everyday wisdom, and stretches them until they are almost unrecognizable.  Through this teaching, Jesus urges us not to simply obey the letter of the law, but to struggle with its underlying intent.  Jesus invites us into a much more challenging kind of discipleship.

Last week’s instructions from Jesus are hard: for example, he encourages us to strenuously avoid both anger and lust, basic human experiences. But if last week’s teachings were hard, this week’s sound unbearable. Jesus tells us, if we are struck on one cheek, to offer up the other.  He says, that if we are forced to go one mile, we should go two.  He says that instead of simply loving our friends or our neighbors, we must love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  Here is a spiritual challenge for several lifetimes.  Here is a law that may be inspired by love, but seems both cruel and impossible.

This particular passage in scripture is one that suffers a great deal from our lack of understanding of its original context.  Taken at face value by a modern audience, it sounds like Jesus is instructing us to be door mats.  No matter what anyone asks of us, we should give it, and more besides. No matter what anyone does to us, we should take it; and even encourage further abuse.  This is a dangerous message, especially for those of us who have experienced violence, whether personal or systemic.

This scripture passage can, however, be understood in an entirely different way.* Let’s start with turning the other cheek.  If someone in Jesus’s culture hit a social inferior, they would use the back of their right hand to strike the other person’s cheek. The intention was not to injure, but to assert dominance; to demean the other person. By turning the other cheek, the person who has been struck presents their attacker with a strange dilemma. The attacker will either have to use their left hand, which can only be used for unclean tasks, to give a backhanded blow; or they are forced to strike the left cheek with their right fist, which signals a fight between equals.  With one simple action, the person who was struck forces their attacker to choose between degrading themselves or elevating their victim.  Either way, turning the other cheek is not an act submission, but rather a creative interruption of everyday humiliation. (Act it out with a friend if you’re confused!)

What about going a second mile? In Jesus’ day, Roman soldiers were allowed to force subjects like the Jewish people to carry their baggage as they traveled. However, this arrangement had a limit. Military law stipulated that these subject peoples could only be forced to carry soldiers’ baggage one mile.  If a person carries a burden two miles, the soldier whose baggage they are carrying could be found guilty of breaking military code and disciplined by flogging or public shaming.  Going a second mile, then, again, is not an act of submission to those who have power, but an ingenious way of asserting agency and putting into question the whole arrangement.

It is a mystery to me how Jesus ever got the reputation of being a pushover.  Yes, his love leads him to unexpected actions and serious consequences, including death on a cross.  But Jesus is never cowardly.  Instead, he is brilliant practitioner of non-violent resistance. This is what he’s teaching to his followers. In situations of injustice, Jesus says, do not fight or flee.  Instead, surprise everyone with a disruption of what is evil, and open up the possibility of a new reality.

What does this mean for us? Few of us, thankfully, are frequently slapped by our social betters or forced to carry a Roman soldier’s burden. What might following Jesus’ guidance look like for us? Here are two examples from the recent news.

Mona Haydar is a Muslim woman living in Cambridge. Witnessing increasing Islamophobia in our culture this winter, she said to her husband, “What if we did something kind of crazy?”  They decided to set up a stand outside their local library with a big sign that read: Ask a Muslim, Talk to a Muslim: free coffee and donuts.  Mona offered her neighbors an entirely different option than buying into the fear: the chance to share sugar and caffeine and stories with her, a real live Muslim in their midst.

A second example: some of you may know that two of today’s biggest pop stars were up against each other for major awards at the Grammys: Adele and Beyonce. Adele is a white British woman whose album was deeply personal.  Beyonce is a black American woman whose album, while also deeply personal, had serious political ramifications. When Adele won Best Album of the year over Beyonce, she spoke with gratitude but then said, in part: “I can’t possibly accept this award… the artist of my life is Beyonce, and her album is so monumental… the way you make me and my friends feel, the way you make my black friends feel, is empowering and you make them stand up for themselves, and I love you.”

Mona Haydar, and Adele. Neither of them were heroic on a grand scale. What’s important about what they chose to do is that it was surprising and disruptive. It challenged the expected power dynamics and created opportunities for everyone around them to see the world, and live in the world, in a new way. If you haven’t listened to Lemonade or watched videos from it, or read commentary about Beyonce’s album, I recommend it.

What does Jesus’ teaching mean for us?

Jesus invites us to go beyond basic decency, and to step into something extraordinary.  He invites us to walk through the world looking for opportunities to transform harmful situations, if we are oppressed or if we find ourselves in the role of oppressor by virtue of our privilege.  Jesus calls us to be loving, not by being nice, but by being transgressive, finding ways to treat each person as a fellow child of God, and as our neighbor.

This is the spiritual challenge of several lifetimes — which is why we need Jesus. We need Jesus: to remind us what we are capable of, and to give us the strength to carry it out. I don’t know about you, but loving my neighbor and my enemy has felt even more challenging in the past few months of our national life than it usually is.  I know it is my own vast privilege that makes this moment different for me than any moment that has come before.  But the challenge of this moment does not mean that we give up on the work and call it impossible.  It makes it even more crucial that we do our best to carry it out.

So I wonder: how are you taking care of your spirit these days?  How are you connecting with God, with beauty, with a force of love that is far larger than yourself?  This kind of discipleship is impossible without God, by whatever name you call her.  So turn off the news, at least some of the time; put down your ideological weapons; pull off your armor and your outrage. Spend more time than usual with scripture, in nature, in silence, with those you love: whatever works for you.  Only then will we be ready to recognize and seize our opportunities.  Only then can we love our enemies as well as those who love us. It’s the work of several lifetimes; one step at a time. Amen.

*For scholarship on these interpretations, please see Walter Wink, The Powers that Be and other writings.

Psalm 119:1-8
Matthew 5: 21-37

Have you been looking for a scripture passage that will make you feel terrible about yourself and angry at Jesus? Have you been looking for a biblical quote that will convince your friends and neighbors that it is an awful idea to spend Sunday mornings at Church? Look no further. This is your lucky day.

For several weeks now we have been listening to Jesus preach his Sermon on the Mount. It started with a confusing passage that we sometimes call the beautitudes. Last week there was a lovely inspirational piece encouraging us to be salt and light for the world.  But this week – this week Jesus has really warmed up and has something more controversial to offer:

“You have heard it said, “You shall not murder,” but I say to you: if you are angry or insult someone or say, “you fool,” you will be liable to the hell of fire. You have heard it said, “You shall not commit adultery,” but I say to you: if you look at someone with lust you have already committed adultery in your heart. You have heard it said, “You shall not swear falsely,” but I say to you: do not swear at all by heaven or earth.”

The Jesus we meet on the mountain this morning is not the man with kind eyes and pastel robes you’ll find porcelain figures of in your local Christian bookshop.  This guy is a hard liner; a table turner; maybe even a provocateur.

In this difficult teaching, Jesus is exploring the wisdom of the scriptures.  He is interpreting God’s law for us. This is where the trouble begins.  As educated and independent thinkers, we resist the idea that religious law is necessary for us, whether it comes from Jesus or from anyone else.  Surely, ethical adults like us know how to act in a decent way, without being constrained by rules like kindergartners.

What’s more, we know how flawed religious rules can be.  Our bible has been used very effectively as a tool of repression and discrimination against enslaved African Americans, against women, and against GLBTQIA identified folk, among others.  Just in our passage for today, there are very strong statements about divorce, which we know from our own experience is sometimes for the best and at other times absolutely necessary for the emotional and physical safety of those involved.  Religious rules are often deeply flawed, reflecting human ignorance and prejudice.  They hold a mirror up to our cultural limitations.

Religious rules can be flawed.  And haven’t we gotten past a legalistic understanding of our faith, anyway? According to some understandings of Christian scriptures, rules or laws are the provenance of the Old Testament, or Hebrew Scriptures.  By contrast, the New Testament, or Greek Scriptures, contain “The Gospel,” the good news of Jesus.  The basic idea is that our ancestors started out with a rule-bound system for guiding human behavior, but it didn’t work out so well. Jesus allows us to have a new relationship with God that is guided more by a relationship of grace than by the rule of law.

While this reasoning may sound appealing, unfortunately it is deeply problematic.  It vastly oversimplifies Jewish relationship to scriptural Law, which is an ancient, varied, and rich tradition.  This mindset also creates and reinforces Anti-Semitism and Christian Supercessionism, encouraging Christians to believe that we have a superior faith. Finally, it directly contradicts Jesus himself, who says just a few verses before we started reading today:

 ”Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”  (Mt 5:17-19)

Jesus loves and honors the tradition he was raised in.  He’s not trying to diminish it, or repair it, or replace it. He’s trying to teach it: to help those who are following him to understand and follow it.

So finally we have to ask: why does Jesus feel this law is worth following?  And why does he think that intensifying it, magnifying it, making it even stricter, is an effective strategy?

What is the purpose of the law? This is a good question to ask, as our culture is battling over our political laws and their enforcement. Maybe some lawyers in our community can give me some special insight.  My understanding is that each law is an imperfect attempt to guide human action in a way that is acceptable to the values of the community.  The challenge is to be clear about what those fundamental values are; and then wise as to how they should shape our actions.

I suspect Jesus was inflammatory for a reason.  He was convinced that people had become too caught up in obedience to the letter of religious law.  If we refrained from murder, avoided adultery, followed divorce law, and kept our promises; we had no further work to do concerning God. Jesus is pushing the envelope in an attempt to help us get past our fascination with the surface of the law and instead investigate the spirit of it: the underlying values of right relationship, and compassion, and honesty.

Rules and laws are important, but they have their limits. If all we needed to do to live a faithful life was memorize and obey guidelines like the ten commandments, there would be little need for synagogues or churches or mosques.  To live a faithful life we need not only to learn about the often flawed rules of our religious traditions, but more importantly, the values underneath them.  Then it is our work to discern how to apply the spirit of the law, the values of our faith, to our daily lives.

We come to church, and we listen to Jesus, not to be lectured and judged and reprimanded; not to be treated like naughty children.  We come because we need help keeping our deepest values at the center of our lives, and living out those values in a complicated world.  With the help of God and one another, we can confess our failings, find forgiveness, and try again.

Did you hear the words of the psalmist? “Happy are those … who walk in the law of the Lord.  Happy are those who… seek God with their whole heart… who walk in God’s ways.” God’s law, however imperfectly interpreted, is a gift. Our opportunity is to accept that gift; to investigate it; to argue with it; to refine its expression.  So I encourage you not to dismiss Jesus’ message, but rather to read it and to wrestle with it. We’ll continue our wrestling with this passage next week.

God, thank you for your teachings, even the ones that infuriate me. God, thank you for your law, even when it challenges me. May I persevere with a steadfast heart,  seeking out your truth and acting out your love, each day of my life.  Amen.

Melissa Tustin shared this message as part of our all-ages worship on February 5th. The sermon begins with the preacher sprinkling rock salt on a large block of ice!

January is by far the best month to have a birthday. I’m a little biased since my brother, my aunt, my father and I were all born in January. But I bet you would agree that some truly “salt of the earth” people came into the world in January. After all, one of this country’s most courageous and transformative leaders, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 16th! But did you also know that Edward Verne Roberts, the Father of the Independent Living Movement, was born on January 23rd?

Since 2010, the state of California has officially observed January 23rd as Ed Roberts Day. There is a picture of Ed Roberts on our bulletin today and the quote from him. As you can tell, Ed was one of the most outspoken warriors for the disability rights movement. Let me tell you more about this truly “salt of the earth” human being:

“…And that’s the greatest example, that we, who are considered the weakest, the most helpless people in our society, are the strongest, and will not tolerate segregation, will not tolerate a society which sees us as less than whole people. But that we will together, with our friends, will reshape the image that this society has of us.”

“[Ed’s] career as an advocate began when a high school administrator threatened to deny his diploma because he had not completed driver’s education or physical education! He also had to fight for the support he needed to attend college because his rehabilitation counselor thought he was too severely disabled to ever get a job…His admission to UC Berkley broke the ice for other students with severe disabilities who joined him over the next few years at what evolved into the Cowell Residence Program. The group developed a sense of identity and elan and began to formulate a political analysis of disability. They began calling themselves the Rolling Quads to the surprise of some non-disabled observers who had never before heard a positive expression of disability identity. In 1968, when a rehabilitation counselor threatened two of the Rolling Quads with eviction from the Cowell Residence, they organized a successful ‘revolt’ that led to the counselor’s transfer. Their success on campus inspired the group to begin advocating for curb cuts, opening access to the wider community and to create the Physically Disabled Student’s Program, the first student-led disability services in the country. In 1976 Governor Jerry Brown appointed Ed Roberts Director of the California Department of Rehabilitation—the same agency that had once labeled him too severely disabled to work.”

Ed Roberts is directly responsible for the installation of the first curb-cut in the United States. I daresay every single person here has benefited from his legacy. The more I learn about Ed Roberts and the many, many other saints of the disability rights movement, the more surprised I am that this history is rarely taught in schools. I was fifteen years old when the ADA, the Americans with Disabilities Act, was passed but I don’t recall learning anything about the events that pushed it through. The ADA had been stalled in Congress for months when there was this incredible demonstration known as the “Capitol Crawl” that pushed it through. On March 12, 1990, sixty disability rights activists left their wheelchairs and crutches behind and crawled up the steps of the Capitol Building. I can’t imagine a more effective way to shine a light on the injustice of having inaccessible public buildings.

But that’s not all. By far, the most iconic image from that day and some say the reason Congress HAD to pass the ADA is Jennifer Keelan, just 8 years old, crawling up those steps. In all the pictures, she has this determined expression on her face, as only an eight year old girl can make, with a flag bandana wrapped around her head. What strength she had, what courage and that was not even Jennifer’s first demonstration! She got involved in the fight for disability rights when she was six years old and was arrested for the first time when she was just seven! Jennifer and her mother, Cyndi actually helped draft the original ADA law! Talk about salt of the earth! The irony is that despite having been involved in the drafting of the ADA, Jennifer and her mother have experienced significant discrimination and even homelessness in their home state, Colorado. But they have never given up. Jennifer currently lives in AZ and is pursuing her goal to become a pediatric occupational therapist.

A group of handicapped people led by 8-year-old Jennifer Keelan, left, crawl up the steps of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, March 12, 1990, to draw support for a key bill now pending in the House that would extend civil rights to disabled persons. The group of about 1,000 people or rode in wheelchairs down Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House to the Capitol. (AP Photo/Jeff Markowitz)

Clearly, there is more work to be done, in the fight for equal rights for people of all abilities and in so many areas. It has been a difficult month. Laws and leadership are changing in this country and to many it feels like the world is becoming a colder, more dangerous place, especially for immigrants, Muslims and those living in poverty. But history has shown and our faith teaches that in every age and time, God has sent her prophets to shine a light on injustice and to salt the earth with courageous words and actions. We can draw strength from the ones who came before us like Dr. King and Ed Roberts and Jennifer Keelan. We too can shine a bright light on the injustices of our time just as they did. We too can use our voices to melt the fear and cold-heartedness that is so often behind discriminatory laws.

When I started this sermon you watched me sprinkle salt on this big block of ice. The whole time I’ve been preaching, that salt has been melting the ice. I want to invite the children to come up and use some liquid watercolor to reveal the holes and cracks the salt has already made in the ice while I’ve been talking. These colors represent the inroads God has already been making through the leaders and the activists who came before us as well as the places where Jesus is calling us to be the salt and light in our time. As the children come forward, we need to acknowledge that the struggle for justice is not easy. As Theodore Parker once preached and Dr. King often repeated, “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” I’ve been hearing that many of us are finding we need new habits and practices to help us stay energized while facing problems we know will take time to solve. So while the children are up here revealing the colors of God, I invite the rest of you to name the practices that are energizing you these days. They don’t need to be explicitly religious to be helpful. For example, reading the comics is one of the ways I remind myself to find joy in each day no matter what’s on the front page of the newspaper! Salty language is another helpful practice for me in the right circumstances. What about you?

Answers: Taking walks, listening to music in the car instead of the news, coming to church every week, praying, etc.

Thank you for sharing your energizing practices and thank you kids for revealing God’s colors. I can see that God’s prophets are just getting warmed up! And what’s more, the one we call Light of the World, goes before us! For that, in every age and time, we are blessed. Amen.

Sources:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ed_Roberts_(activist)

Matthew 5:1-12

Over the past two weeks we’ve watched Jesus start his ministry. We saw Jesus at the Jordan, where he was baptized and recognized as the Lamb of God.  We watched Jesus travel to Capernaum, and begin to preach.  We were witnesses as Jesus began to put together his team, calling fishermen off their boats to become his disciples.

Now Jesus is traveling and teaching and healing throughout the region of Galilee. His ministry is fully launched, and let me tell you: it is going great. Everyone wants to hear Jesus’ words.  Everyone wants to feel Jesus’ touch. Everyone wants what Jesus has to offer.

But as Jesus looks out at all the people who have shown up in our scriptures today, he doesn’t celebrate his success. He doesn’t try to consolidate his popularity.  Instead, he turns around, goes up a mountain, and sits down. We can imagine the disciples’ confusion; what is Jesus up to now?  Uncertain, they gather around him, waiting for whatever is going to happen next. Then Jesus begins to preach. He begins to preach a very strange sermon. He says:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you   falsely on my account.
Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

I imagine that the disciples were feeling pretty good about themselves before this mountain top trip.  Sure, they’d thrown away their livelihoods and left their families to follow an inexperienced rabbi reformer. They’d taken a big risk.  But that risk is definitely paying off!  They are at the right hand of the most famous religious leader around. With all of his wisdom and all of his influence, surely the future must be bright.

But Jesus, with his experiences fleeing Herods, with his experience of the arrest of John the Baptist – Jesus has a better idea of what his team is up against. Jesus, on his mountaintop perch, sees a bigger picture.  This movement they’ve started isn’t going to be a glamorous one.  Jesus knows his disciples need something more than he’s given them so far, to prepare them for the trials that are ahead.

Blessed are those who mourn, he says; for there is a great deal to grieve and only if we grieve can we find comfort.  Privileged are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, he says; for our longing will empty us of hate and fill us up with love.  Happy are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, he says; for in standing up for God’s Kingdom, we will become residents of it, no matter what happens around us.

There is suffering ahead, Jesus tells the disciples: suffering, because we are human; suffering, because of our social location; suffering, because of our calling.  There is suffering ahead as we work to realize God’s kingdom of love and justice on earth. Prepare your hearts, and remember that in our suffering, God still offers a blessing. (more…)

Matthew 4:12-23

Jesus has been on quite a journey in the past few weeks as we follow our gospel readings. Late in December, he was born in Bethlehem. Early in January, he travelled all the way down to Egypt with his family to avoid the reach of Herod the Great.  Last week, Jesus was with John the Baptist on the banks of the Jordan River. Today, Jesus is ready to begin his ministry; and he begins it by traveling to Capernaum by the sea.

Why does Jesus go there? The scriptures don’t tell us directly.  But we do know that Capernaum represents a whole different world than Nazareth.  Jesus’ hometown was small, and in the middle of nowhere.  By contrast, Capernaum was three times as large, and located right on the edge of Lake Galilee. It was a place bustling with trade and marked by Roman influence. It was not far from another seaside city, the city of Tiberias, which was the capital of the ruling Roman Tetrarch, Herod Antipas.

Just in case you’re having trouble keeping your Herods straight this season, Herod Antipas is the son of Herod the Great; and like his father, he was known for his ruthlessness. In this story, he arrests John the Baptist. Historical sources tell us that John was arrested, and later beheaded, simply because had the gall to criticize Herod for getting divorced in order to remarry his half-brother’s wife. Seems like a small offense to earn the death penalty.

But getting back to Jesus: Jesus begins his ministry by travelling to Capernaum by the sea.  Why?  By travelling there, Jesus steps out into the open.  He stops hiding from the powers that have threatened his life since birth.  He begins to engage the powers that have just jailed his mentor.  Jesus decides at the age of 30 – which was not very young in those days – that it is finally a good time to claim his calling.  And he goes all in.

Jesus goes to Capernaum and he begins his ministry with one sermon: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”  This sermon may sound familiar. It’s exactly the same as the one we’ve already heard from John the Baptist.  In John’s absence, Jesus is carrying his movement forward. But it doesn’t take long until Jesus realizes that he’s not getting very far.  To really make a difference, the movement needs a deeper roster of leaders.

So Jesus takes a stroll along the Sea of Galilee.  He sees two brothers, Simon Peter and Andrew, casting a net into the sea; and he calls out to them.  He sees James and John, mending their nets with their father; and he calls out to them. He calls out to these fishermen, and says: “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”  And immediately, they leave their nets, their boats, and their families, to follow him.

It seems like an unlikely start for something that became so significant.  The rabbi is inexperienced. The fishermen are uneducated.  Still, something draws them together. Only with the support and help of these new disciples does Jesus really gather momentum, teaching and preaching and healing and recruiting throughout the region of Galilee. (more…)

Isaiah 49:1-7
John 1:29-42

Last week I talked about the coalition of love that came together to get the baby Jesus safely from Bethlehem to Egypt to Nazareth, from birth to adulthood. The magi, the angels, Joseph, Mary: there were many roles to play.  And I asked a question: What will our role be in the coalition of love that is needed now?  How will we shelter and spread hope in our world?

Answering that question begins with knowing who we are.

The Bible is full of stories of naming and renaming and identity claiming. There are several examples just in our texts for today. In the passage from the Prophet Isaiah, God gives Isaiah a new name: light to the nations.  In the gospel, John the Baptist identifies Jesus as the Lamb of God; and then, later, Jesus tells Simon he is to be called Peter.  All of these names have special meanings. They help the people in our holy book understand who they are, and who they can become with the help of God.

Names help us understand who we are and what we are called to do. But not all names are true names.

Right before the gospel passage for today begins, John the Baptist has to fend off a crowd who is eager to find a name for him.  “I am not the Messiah,” he says. They ask him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” but John says, “I am not.”  “Are you the prophet?” the crowds ask. But John says, “No.”  You can hear the irritation rising as the people demand:  “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” Then, finally, John tells them: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.”

It’s not the answer that they wanted. It’s not even an answer that they fully understand. But John knows who he is, and he knows who he is not. He is willing to disappoint people around him, in order to carry out the work that is, in fact, his to do.

Sometimes people try to give us false names that are good names, prestigious names that are simply not for us, like they do with John the Baptist. At other times, people try to give us false  names to diminish and degrade us.

We remember this weekend the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the civil rights movement that he was a part of. Now this man is widely recognized as a hero in our nation and beyond, but that was not always the case. He was given other names. King learned the name “less than” when he was forced to stand on a crowded bus so that white people could sit. He learned the name “better off dead” when his house was bombed during the Montgomery bus boycott. Those in power labelled him “communist” to justify FBI surveillance. Others called him “traitor” because they disagreed with his tactics.  “Criminal” was a familiar name in a short life that included 29 arrests.

Still, somehow, amidst all of these false names, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. stayed true to who he was.  He never stopped working for the causes he believed in. He was an imperfect and powerful person, in an imperfect and powerful movement that changed the world. He, and John Robert Lewis, and Ella Baker, and so many others.

I wonder: what are the false names that you have been given? (more…)

Matthew 2:1-23

The twelve days of Christmas ended on Friday with the feast of the Epiphany, when we remember the arrival of the Magi at the manger. But in the Gospel of Matthew, the Christmas story doesn’t end there, at that peaceful gathering around the Christ child.  It goes on.

The Magi are warned in a dream not to return to Herod, and travel home by another way.  Their failure to inform him of the baby’s location makes Herod so angry that he decides to kill all the children in and around Bethlehem who are two years old or younger. This strange and horrific act is called the massacre of the innocents, and recalls the violence of another biblical tyrant, the Egyptian Pharaoh.

Miraculously, however, Jesus is not killed. An Angel of the Lord visits Joseph in his sleep, telling him to flee to Egypt with his family.  It is years and two more angelic visits later before Jesus finds a home in Nazareth, before he finds a safe place to grow into the man who we will meet at the shores of the Jordan River.

Why does this beautiful story end with so much drama and tragedy?  The gospel of Matthew reminds us that Christmas is not a fairy tale. Jesus was a real child, born into a real and dangerous time and place.  Jesus was a Jewish baby born into a Judea ruled by King Herod.

Herod the Great was an enterprising man from a powerful family. His father appoints him to be the governor of Jerusalem, but this isn’t enough to satisfy Herod’s ambitions.  Eventually, Herod travels to Rome. While he is there, he somehow convinces the colonial power to recognize him as “King of the Jews.”  The only problem is that there is already a King in Judea: the descendant of a long line of Hasmonian Kings who had ruled independently before Roman conquest. Following the Roman proclamation of Herod’s new rank, a war begins between the old King and the new. Herod prevails, and a new dynasty begins.

Once in power, Herod is a brutal despot. He outlaws protests, gathers information through a secret police force, jails opponents, and imposes a painful tax.  His private behavior is also remarkable for its cruelty. He banishes his first wife and child when a second marriage becomes more politically expedient.  He executes several family members, including another wife.  Herod publicly identifies himself as a Jew, but the Jewish council, the Sanhedrin, condemns him. His rule provokes anger amongst the Jewish people and helps to plant the seeds for later revolts against the Roman Empire.

Jesus was a real child, born in a real and dangerous time and place.  Jesus was a Jewish baby born into a Judea ruled by King Herod.  How could this vulnerable, squirming bundle of hope possibly survive? How could the one who in his infancy was called the “King of the Jews” be protected from a vicious reigning King?

According to Matthew, Jesus survives because of a coalition of love. (more…)