Sermon for Trinity Sunday, Year C, "Pentecost Aftermath - Stephen," Acts 6:8-15, 7:1-2a, 51-60

Sermon 5/26/13

Acts 6:8-15, 7:1-2a, 51-60

Pentecost Aftermath: Stephen

            Some of you know that I have a real interest in psychological personality types, specifically a model of understanding called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicators. You might have taken this test yourself at some point, or at least be familiar with part of the system. You receive a four letter type – either an E or I – for extrovert/introvert – this is the part many of you many know about yourself already – then either N or S – are you intuiting or sensing? – T or F – thinking or feeling – and J or P – judging or perceiving. If you want to know more about my psyche, I can tell you that I am an INFJ. I usually have couples who are doing premarital counseling go through this personality typing process, because it helps me get to know them, and helps us have conversations about how they relate to each other, particularly in situations that are less than perfect. Sometimes workplaces have employees and bosses take these tests, so that all can work together to create a better workplace environment. I’ve read a resource that particularly talks about personality types among clergy, and what the strengths and struggles are for pastors of different types.

For all of the types, for example, the Myers-Briggs test will reveal something about how you handle conflict. You might already know this about yourself too. Are you a person who is confrontational? Do you love a good fight or debate? Do you keep quiet in an argument? Do you make sure you are not even around in a conflict? You all might have been amused to see, once upon a time, Pastor Aaron and I on a long road trip with your former associate, Pastor Heather. Aaron loves a good debate, and Heather can’t stay out of a debate if her buttons have been pushed, and I sat quietly in the back seat, occasionally offering up placating words to diffuse conflict! I could have told you before I ever took my own test that I tend to be a conflict-avoider. My official results say this: “INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger.” Of course, avoiding conflict isn’t really something that is possible if you want to interact with people, is it?! And in particular, avoiding conflict isn’t always helpful in the midst of a congregation of diverse people and opinions, particularly when you are a leader of those people! Over my years of ministry, handling conflict has been something I’ve had to work hard it, and sometimes I have more success than others!

Today we step into a major conflict in the book of Acts, one that ends in death, as we read the story of Stephen. Unlike the disciples like Peter and company, Stephen’s task in the community of Jesus-followers was not primarily as a preacher of the gospel at all – he wasn’t one of the apostles. Stephen was part of a group of servants who had a special task in the early church. People outside of the faith criticized that the fervor of the disciples for preaching the gospel had caused them to neglect other duties like feeding the widowed and the needy. Their criticism was a reason for them to reject the teachings of Jesus – the disciples didn’t really take care of those in need! Why believe their message of good news? But the twelve responded, “‘It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.’” So seven were chosen, one of whom was this man we read about today, Stephen. These seven looked on the needs of the least in their community, making sure that those who were without could receive food and be taken care of. In other words, Stephen wasn’t a preacher or a pastor, or an apostle – that wasn’t his vocation. He was a servant, a helper, a supporter in ministry. If Stephen were a 21st century believer, he might be any one of you – someone who stepped up to help meet the needs of the community.

It turns out though that Stephen, even though he wasn’t one of the apostles, was still a rowdy synagogue member. He wasn’t content to just go with the flow or keep quiet in his own community of faith. So Stephen and some of his fellow synagogue members were constantly debating and arguing about his involvement in this new faith. Eventually, his peers had enough, and began to plot against him. We read of their scheming in Acts: “But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which [Stephen] spoke. Then they secretly instigated some men to say, ‘We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.’ They stirred up the people as well as the elders and the scribes; then they suddenly confronted him, seized him, and brought him before the council. They set up false witnesses who said, ‘This man never stops saying things against this holy place and the law; for we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and will change the customs that Moses handed on to us.’ And all who sat in the council looked intently at [Stephen], and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”

The authorities ask Stephen to respond to these accusations. And he does, in a big way. Stephen says that through the ages people have rejected the prophets that God sent to reach them, and just so they rejected Jesus, God-come-to-earth to reach them. He doesn’t try to soften his words, and he doesn’t try to make friends. He doesn’t temper what he says, or recant any of his beliefs, even though he is clearly in trouble. Stephen just says what is on his heart. The synagogue leaders respond to Stephen’s testimony: “When they heard these things,” we read, “they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen.” Instead of being scared by the group, Stephen is fortified by the vision of Jesus he has. He tries to share his vision, but his words fall on unhearing ears. The men drag Stephen into the street, they throw their coats at the feet of a man named Saul, and they stone Stephen to death, literally pelting rocks at him until he dies. Stephen’s last words echo Jesus’ on the cross, as he pleads for forgiveness for those who are putting him to death. Stephen, not one of the twelve, not known for his preaching or leadership, was just someone who was trying to serve others, and he was unwilling to say or do otherwise, even with the cost being his own life.

            Yet, Stephen is known as the first Christian, the first Jesus-follower, who sacrifices his life for the movement. He’s the first martyr of this newly-birthed church. That word, martyr, comes from the Greek word marturia, and in Greek, that word means witness. Someone who is willing to martyr themselves is a witness for an issue or topic or person about whom they are passionate. Stephen was a witness for Jesus. But witness is one of those funny words that has a lot of baggage in the Christian church today, baggage that distracts us from understanding what the word means. We sometimes think of a witness as when someone goes door to door, like a Jehovah’s Witness adherent, witnessing, or proclaiming their faith, in an evangelistic sort of way. But I think we better understand witness if we think about a trial, and people who are called as witnesses in a trial. Witnesses in trials are called on to tell the truth about what they have seen and experienced related to a particular event. That’s actually just what Stephen does, isn’t it? He tells the truth about what he knows about Jesus Christ, what he’s experienced. What moves Stephen from being more than a witness, in today’s language, to being a martyr, is that he witnesses to the truth despite his circumstances, which were clearly dangerous to his life. When would you be willing to tell the truth about something, to witness, no matter what the costs were to yourself?

            What strikes me as so powerful about Stephen’s witness to us is that he didn’t have to do it. He could have, at some point, stopped debating with synagogue leaders, joined a different community, run away. He could have gone into hiding, left town. He didn’t have to have this fight. He chose to, because he was so committed to speaking the truth he believed about the life he was called to in Christ. What would you give your life for? When would you speak up, and when would you stay silent?

            We are the story-tellers, the ones, now, in whose hands and hearts the good news of the gospel resides. At what cost will we stay silent? Stephen wasn’t even silent with threat of death. But I worry that we sometimes can be silent even over our mild discomfort! You have probably heard this famous poem by Pastor Martin Niemoller, written in the wake of Nazism and the Holocaust. First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me. We say actions speak louder than words, and if that is true, then inaction is a deafening silence. 

            Today is a day when we have honored and remembered loved ones we have lost, and particularly, for many, loved ones who felt so committed to their country and the values of their nation, that they were willing to put themselves in harm’s way in order to uphold these values for the good of the whole. What do you value so much that you will not fail to speak the truth about it, no matter what situation you encounter? I’ve told you how much I dislike conflict, but in my own life, I find I rarely have trouble speaking up if you are harming in word or deed a member of my family, a dear friend, a loved one. Then it is easy to speak. Or if I witness an act of injustice in progress, I find it much easier to speak. I’m guessing many of you feel the same way. But what about when the situation doesn’t involve someone you are close to. Would you still feel compelled to speak the truth? What about when you hear people speaking of others who are not present? Would you still speak up? What about when there would be immediate negative consequences in your life for witnessing to truth? I’ll be honest – I hope I’m never put in a situation where I have to choose whether or not to lay down my life – I’m pretty fond of it! But I don’t think we can read about Stephen without asking ourselves some hard questions. How much is telling the truth worth to us? How much do we value it? Our lives are witness – what we do, how we behave, how we act, when we speak, when we stay silent – they’re always testifying in some way. What is your life saying? Amen. 

Sermon for Pentecost, Year C, "Wind and Fire," Acts 2:1-21

Sermon 5/19/13

Acts 2:1-21

Pentecost: Wind and Fire

Happy Birthday! In the Christian Church we celebrate this day, Pentecost Day, as the birthday of the church universal. Pentecost is the biggest birthday celebration I can think of, next to that birthday we celebrate on December 25th. Today is the birthday of the Church. Today, we read about the disciples receiving the Holy Spirit. Today we read about that strange experience where the sound of a mighty rushing wind broke into the house where the followers of Jesus were celebrating Pentecost. Today, we read about the beginnings of Church as we know it – where Peter steps up and finally does what Jesus had been preparing him and the others to do all along: he shares the gospel – tells the Good News about God’s grace to anyone and everyone he can get to listen. Today is meant to be a day of celebration, this day of Pentecost.

Our text from Acts opens with the disciples already gathered together. They are gathered together for the celebration of Pentecost, a Jewish festival set out in the Torah, the law books for the Jews, which make the first five books of our Bible today. Pentecost was a celebration taking place fifty days after Passover, and was called also “the feast of weeks” or Shavuot. The festival celebrated the “first fruits” of the early harvest in spring. So the disciples were gathered together for this traditional celebration. But suddenly, we read, a sound like the rush of a violent wind came, and filled the gathering place, and the apostles were filled with the Holy Spirit, which seemed to them like divided tongues of fire. And they began to speak the gospel message to all who were gathered in such a way that everyone in the city could understand them. Many people from many places were gathered in Jerusalem for the Feast of Weeks, and it seemed that everyone could understand the disciples. Some were amazed at this, but others were a bit cynical, and accused the disciples of being drunk. Peter stands and raises his voice to the crowds: We’re not drunk – we are speaking as the prophets spoke – and he goes on to speak to them of visions and power that will come to all – young and old, men and women, slaves and free – using words from the prophet Joel.

Today, then, when we celebrate Pentecost, our focus is on not on the feast originally celebrated, but on the out-of-control wind that swept through and stirred up the celebration – the giving of the Holy Spirit. This is the gift that Jesus has promised the disciples they would receive, the thing that would be their Advocate, their Comforter, helping them to make the transition from followers of Jesus to those who would be leading and guiding and sharing with others. Personally, though, I have always found this Spirit thing a bit hard to explain and understand. It all sounds so ambiguous, doesn’t it? How do we connect to an event that had a violent rushing wind, tongues of fire, and people speaking in other languages? Maybe we get that something special happened on that day, but how can we relate to it? What does the gift of the Holy Spirit mean to us?

When our scene opens for today, the apostles don’t know that today is the day. They don’t yet know that Pentecost is the day they will receive the Spirit Jesus promised. They’re just waiting in Jerusalem, as Jesus instructed. We’ve talked about the loneliness, fear, and abandonment the disciples must have felt in the days between the crucifixion and resurrection, and that was three days of believing that Jesus was dead and they were lost. Last Sunday, we talked about the ascension of Jesus, when he returns to be with God, when God’s messengers have to tell the apostles to stop staring up in to the sky. Jesus had been telling them that this Holy Spirit thing was coming, and they were supposed to wait. Wait for it, and then they would receive the help of this spirit, this advocate. Yes, now they knew Jesus was resurrected, but they also knew Jesus had left them again, at least physically. And this time, Jesus does not reappear physically after three days. He told them to wait, and they’re waiting. That’s where we find them today. But it is ten days between Jesus’ ascension and the feast of Pentecost. Ten days that they’ve been waiting, finding out just how much they trusted what Jesus said. I wonder how many times in those ten days they figured they’d misunderstood, or missed this spirit-helper thing, how many times they considered leaving, wondering if they’d been crazy.

             So they’ve been waiting, waiting, and finally, this wind/Spirit thing arrives, and I have more questions than before. I find a couple of points in this Pentecost story really fascinating. First, I think it would have been so easy for the apostles, waiting in Jerusalem, to not recognize this Spirit thing, as dramatic as this windy fire sounds, when it came. When Jesus talked about the Holy Spirit coming to them, I just have to wonder what the apostles were expecting. Jesus, talking about the Spirit, said things like, with it they will be “clothed with power from on high.” They’ll be “baptized with the Holy Spirit” and will “receive power” and “will be [Jesus’] witnesses.” He talks about the Holy Spirit being an “advocate” and “helper.” He said it would remind the disciples of everything Jesus had taught them. And then, what it turns out to be is this sound like a mighty rushing wind, that appears like flames of fire. I wouldn’t be surprised if the disciples reacted like: “This is what you meant by a helper? This thing that has caused everyone to ask if we’re drunk at 9 in the morning – that’s the great help you sent us?”

            The other point that fascinates me is that the Holy Spirit had already shown up in the scriptures. Jesus talks about the help he’s sending like it is a new thing. But the Holy Spirit has already been mentioned – in the Psalms and Prophets. In Mary, mother of Jesus, and in her cousin Elizabeth – the Holy Spirit is mentioned at work in both of those women and in Simeon, who sees baby Jesus at his dedication in the temple. Jesus talks about the Holy Spirit having been with King David. He himself is described as being full of the Holy Spirit. He teaches that God gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask for it, and that the Holy Spirit will equip apostles with words to say in difficult situations. All of these examples of the Holy Spirit! The disciples, you might think, must have wondered what was so special about what Jesus was sending to them, how it was any different from the Spirit they already had seen at work.

            What amazes me most about Pentecost is that the apostles, waiting and confused for a week and half for something, ambiguously described by Jesus, finally receive the Spirit, only to find out it is this weird wind thing, that’s actually been with them all along – and, as it turns out, this seems to do the trick! Suddenly, the apostles, who’ve had very little to say since the crucifixion actually, and certainly not a lot to say since the resurrection, suddenly, they spring into action, preaching in front of crowds, finally start telling people about Jesus and what God has in store for the world. This fiery, windy spirit seems to be like a switch suddenly flipped, and the apostles start taking action. This is, after all, the acts of the apostles, and they finally get down to business.

            So, the questions we have to ask are: What do we do while we’re waiting for the Holy Spirit? And then, what do we do when the Holy Spirit comes? At Easter time, Pastor Aaron and I talked a lot about how resurrection still happens today – it isn’t just some past event that we celebrate, but a present and future reality that we live into. We’re resurrection people. The same holds true for Pentecost. The coming of the Holy Spirit, the transformation of the disciples into these bold messengers for God, the explosion of new faith communities – this isn’t just a record of an event long past that we study out of historical curiosity. I believe it is God’s hope for the church today, that Pentecost still happens.

            While we’re waiting to feel that Spirit move among us, I think we, like the disciples, have some of the hardest tasks. We have to keep doing what Jesus has told and taught us to do, and we have to believe that God’s promises will be fulfilled. Not knowing when God might act in our lives, when God might move in a new way is no excuse to do anything but follow God’s commands while we’re waiting. The disciples didn’t leave Jerusalem because God was taking too long. They didn’t know how Jesus’ promise would unfold, but they knew that it would. When we, as individuals or a congregation, are experiencing in-between times, our best plan is to keep doing the things Jesus taught us to do while we wait.

            I think we also have to recognize the ways that Jesus has already given us the gift that was promised. We are already people who have received the Holy Spirit, just like the scripture record the Spirit at work throughout the stories we read, long before Pentecost found the Spirit arriving in a new package. How has the Spirit moved in you? How has it been in work at Liverpool First? For me, I experience little Spirit-moments whenever someone tells me that I preached a great sermon, because it really inspired them when I said (blank), only I never said what they heard! I figure God must be using my sermon to deliver a message. I’ve seen the Spirit at work through our choirs making music, through children giving answers in worship that are profound to adult ears, through unexpected gifts, through celebrating sacraments, through serving beyond what we saw possible. The spirit is already here – let’s recognize and celebrate it.

            Finally, I think we experience Pentecost whenever we find that something, that spirit, that energy, that causes us to stop talking and thinking and mulling and planning and start doing. Sometimes you can talk about a dream you have, a plan you’ve made, a bucket-list item that you’ve had on your mind forever. You dream about it and dream about it and dream about it. And then, one day, finally, after 1000 false starts, you just do it. You start. You begin. You get going, get moving. What gives you that final push? What starts the engine? The Holy Spirit, like the wind, is something you can never pin down. But when I think about what makes us finally go, that’s the best way I can understand it. The apostles, with the wind finally stirring up in them the Spirit that was already there, finally get up and go, and start sharing the best news about the kingdom of God. I’m praying for the winds of the Spirit to move us here, too. We’ve got some dreams. Hopes. Things we’ve been talking about, dreaming about. Is something urging us to finally get up and get going?

            Happy birthday, church. How will we celebrate God at work in us? Amen.    

           

Sermon for Ascension Sunday, Luke 24:44-53, Acts 1:1-11

Sermon 5/12/13

Acts 1:1-11, Luke 24:44-53

Ascension Sunday

            What titles are you known by? Do you think titles are important? Next weekend Aaron will graduate with his Doctor of Ministry, and officially earn the title of “Doctor.” I hope to join him in that when I finish my own degree, but really, I still prefer titles like “Her Eminence.” In some churches I have served, people have preferred to call me “Rev. Beth,” while in others, like this one, people more often call me, “Pastor Beth.” Does that make any difference? Aaron recently had his job title for our Conference changed. Previously his title was “Associate Director of Connectional Ministries for Congregational Revitalization.” In theory, the folks who gave him that title thought it helped make clear that his job was part of a certain department in the conference structure. But mostly, it just confused people. Now, his title is just, “Director of Congregational Revitalization.” You can actually tell what he does by his title now, instead of falling asleep before you get to the important part! What titles do you carry with you? What do they tell us about you? How have they changed over time?

I remember the sense of strangeness I experienced when I started at my first church, St. Paul’s UMC in Oneida, in 2003. I was just out of seminary, and although I had spent time interning in various capacities at churches, chaplaincies, and agencies, this was the first time I would be the pastor of a church. And on June 30^th, 2003, I wasn’t a pastor. And then, on July 1^st, I was. At least, that’s what my title said! Elizabeth Quick, pastor. It said so right on the sign out front. I had some real moments of panic at first. Sure, I’d been to a lot of school, but what did I know about being a pastor? I couldn’t have responsibility for a whole church! What was I thinking? Was there still time to back out? How did I go from being “regular old Beth” one day to having the “pastor” title the next?

There’s certainly always more we can learn. There’s always more I can learn about being a pastor. This week, I’ll attend a continuing education event in Nashville called The Festival of Homiletics, which focuses on preaching and worship leadership. My learning isn’t finished just because I’m qualified to be a pastor. Pastor, like many of you in your careers, are required, in fact, to do a certain amount of continuing education each year. But there are some things that you just don’t learn about being a pastor in seminary. For example, you never figure out how to hold a baby, read the words of a baptism liturgy, and bless them with water all at the same time until you’ve awkwardly tried to do it a few times! You could spend an endless amount of time preparing to be a pastor, and never just start being a pastor, if you were always trying to learn everything. So in those first days, I felt unprepared. But I plunged ahead, with many helpers and guides, not because I suddenly found some burst of confidence, and not because I suddenly felt like an expert, and not because I knew I would do everything right. I became a pastor because, from the start, I felt called by God to do so, sent by God to take this particular journey in ministry. I had to transition from being a student of ministry to being a minister. 

I read once about a man named Johnny Lechner who refused to graduate from his undergraduate school. I’m not sure quite how he got started – he was ready to graduate, and a friend urged him not to rush, so he decided to stay an extra year. That’s not so uncommon. But Lechner ended up being an undergrad for about 15 years. It wasn’t that he just couldn’t complete the requirements. Indeed, he had credits to graduate in half a dozen majors – Communications, Health, Education, Women's Studies, Theater, and so on. He would say he was finally ready to graduate, and then back out at the last minute, remembering he’d never studied abroad, or never been in such and such club. His University became so sick of having him as a student that they implemented a so-called “slacker-tax” – students who take too long to graduate have to pay double tuition. Lechner was unfazed. Bolstered with income from speaking appearances and acting jobs related to his unique life path, he had enough money for double tuition. Lechner said he just likes learning. I can relate to that. But when do you have to be more than a student? When do you have to also move on, move out, spread out, branch out, and start becoming whatever you’ve been studying to be for so long?  

Today is Ascension Sunday, and it is a weird in-between sort of day before Pentecost that we don’t spend much time thinking about. It is the day that we remember that Jesus, forty days after the Easter Resurrection, returned to heaven to be with God. Our two scripture lessons today come from one author – passages from the gospel and from Acts both written by Luke, who writes to explain first Jesus’ ministry and the then infant church that Jesus’ early work births. In our text from Luke, Jesus reminds the disciples that his time with them has been a fulfilling of the law and the prophets and the psalms – Jesus brings into fullness all the promises laid out by God in God’s story with the people. And then, we read, Jesus “opens their minds to understand the scriptures,” a conversation we’d all surely like to have overheard. Then he tells the disciples the task: to proclaim repentance and forgiveness to all nations, beginning in Jerusalem, in Christ’s name. He tells them they have a little bit of time yet before they begin, while they wait to be “clothed with power from on high,” but then they will be ready to begin their work.

Our scene from Acts overlaps somewhat with our passage from Luke, but the focus is the same. Jesus has gathered with the disciples and is speaking to them about the kingdom of God. He tells them to wait for the coming of the Holy Spirit. But still, they have questions. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He tells them not to worry about that, but to concentrate on the coming of the Spirit, and the fact that they will be witnesses of Jesus’ work to the ends of the earth. Then he leaves them to return to God, and they watch him go. Finally, a messenger from God rouses them, asking, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking toward heaven?” urging them to trust that Jesus will still be a part of their lives. That is what the Ascension is. But we need to know the why or it doesn’t much matter. Why is the Ascension important for us to think about?

We’ve talked today about being students. Throughout most of Luke’s gospel, the twelve are referred to as disciples. Luke occasionally gives them a different title, but most often, they’re label “disciples,” students, students of Jesus and his teaching. But then, in Acts, written by the same author, even today describing the same events, Luke uses slightly different language. A small, but important shift. In Acts, we find the same followers of Jesus most frequently called apostles, a word that means “ones who are sent.” Actually, the full title of the second volume of Luke’s account is called, “The Acts of the Apostles.” Same people, different titles. Suddenly, those who were students are something else too, something more: ones sent by Jesus for a specific purpose – to continue the work Jesus began, by preaching about the kingdom, about repentance and forgiveness.

            Perhaps, in such a state of chaos following the death and resurrection of their teacher, it would have been easy for the disciples to not want to move from their comfort zones. Were they ready to go out and be messengers of the good news? Certainly, the disciples had bumbled through years of Jesus’ teaching, barely seeming to get it at times. Even in this opening scene from Acts, the disciples exhibit that they still don’t get everything, and God’s messengers have to tell them to stop staring dumbly into the sky. But now, they’ve been sent. Can the baby church be planted by these disciples who still have so much to learn? The disciples, I’m sure, had their doubts and fears and questions about becoming apostles. But if their fears kept them from becoming apostles, where would we be? If they never felt ready enough to be ones sent, to be the ones to take over the preaching and the teaching, who would hear the good news about the kingdom of God?             

            I think we all experience this struggle, if in our own unique ways. In the church, we are sometimes very good at discipling, and not very good at apostling. I mean that we are very good at nurturing our members – taking care of those who are inside the church family already. If you walk through the purple doors of Liverpool First, we will try hard to welcome you and invite you to be part of us. We try to be students of the scriptures. We’re good at being in fellowship with one another. We’re seek to grow in our discipleship, nurturing the faith journey from infancy to adulthood. We’re good at being the church for the church. But are we as good at being the church for the world? Are we as good at being apostles – being sent – as we are at being students of God? Are we as good at going out into ministry as we are at the ministries that serve those who are already here? Are we willing to answer God’s call once we hear it, or will we insist that we are not ready enough, not prepared enough to be sent?

            The official mission statement of the United Methodist Church, and really, the Christian Church in general, is “to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.” Our discipleship won’t accomplish much if being disciples doesn’t lead us to do something. If being a disciple has no impact, if being disciples doesn’t equip us for something, if being a student doesn’t help prepare us for a purpose, why bother? If being a disciple doesn’t lead us to apostleship, if being with Jesus doesn’t lead us to spreading the gospel, how can the world be transformed? How will others find out about God’s love?       

We’re all working at discipleship. And we never stop being disciples. That’s a title we should always keep. We’re always students of the living Christ, seeking to be like him, molding ourselves after his spirit. But we have to start being apostles too. The message has to be delivered. The good news aches to be preached. We are the witnesses. We are the ones sent. We are the apostles. Let’s go. Amen.

Sermon, "Not-So-Secrets of New Life: Committed," John 15:1-11

Sermon 5/5/2013

John 15:1-11

Not-So-Secrets of New Life: Committed

            Today is the last Sunday in our series the Not-So-Secrets of New Life. Since Easter morning, we’ve been talking about the promise of resurrection, the promise of new life, and how we can claim that new life, how we can start living as people who are resurrected, new creations. Resurrection, doubt, simplicity, generosity, love, and today: commitment. Commitment is a funny, loaded word that we use in multiple ways. We get asked to make a lot of commitments in life. When a bank makes you a loan, like when you’re buying a home and taking out a mortgage, there’s a commitment letter between you and the bank: the bank commits to lending you money, and you commit to providing them documentation about every single thing in your life, as far as I can tell! You might notice that a lot of advertising today will focus on the fact that you can get their product commitment-free, which certainly implies that a commitment is a bad thing, doesn’t it? Try this for 30 days, commitment free. While many cell phone and cable companies want to lock you into contracts and commitments, some companies also offer contract-free commitments, where you make no commitment to stick with that company for more than a month at a time. Of course, without the commitment, you also miss out on some of the benefits a particular company offers. We also use the word committed when someone is placed against their will in a rehabilitation program of some kind. Commitment here has the sense of boundaries that can’t be crossed, limits within which you will be contained. We talk about being in committed relationships. When we say a relationship is committed, we usually mean that it is both exclusive – we haven’t made this commitment to anyone else – and that it will endure – commitment has a sense of lasting, being permanent or at least long-term. We have all sorts of spoken and unspoken commitments to our loved ones. We expect parents to be committed to the well-being of their children. We commit to keeping confidences and looking out for each other in friendships. We commit to complete certain tasks, to serve on committees, to our jobs, to be part of teams, to attend events, to sponsor participants in some walk or cause, to go to the gym, and so on and so forth. We make commitments all the time. Every day.

            Today, we’re talking about what kind of commitments are involved in being Jesus-followers, in having a relationship with God, in being part of this community. What commitments do we make to God, and what commitments does God make to us? For some reason or another, all of you have made a commitment to be here today in worship, in this place. Why is that? That’s a question Pastor Aaron and I have been and will continue to be asking around the church these past couple of weeks. Why are you here? And why do we do the things that we do here? Why do you spend your time come to worship, or going to a bible study, or hanging out with our young people, or teaching Sunday School, or being on a committee, or helping out at the auction or a barbeque or helping to fold newsletters or visit folks at Birchwood…why do you do it? Why? In so many ways, you’ve made a commitment of your time, your talents, your resources, to this particular part of the Body of Christ. Why? That’s a question we’re going to keep coming back to in the months ahead.

            We heard a text from the gospel of John today, where Jesus says that he is the vine and we are the branches. John contains several of these “I am” statements of Christ – I am the light of the world, I am the resurrection, and so on – that tell us about the nature of Christ through vivid imagery. Jesus says that he is the vine, and we are the branches, and that we are meant to bear good fruit. In order to do this, we have to abide in God, and God will abide in us, because branches that become separated from the vine can do nothing, serve no purpose, can’t grow healthy fruit. To have God abide in us, and to abide in God, we have to be disciples – students and followers – of Jesus, and keep God’s commandments. But when we do this, we experience the joy of Christ in our hearts – complete joy. That word abide is repeated time after time in this passage. In fact, it is one of the most repeated words in a single passage in the gospels, giving us a pretty good idea how important it is. It means literally “to stay at home” or “to remain at home.” So when we read this passage, we can think of Jesus telling us that to be vine and branches, to experience this complete joy, we need to remain at home, make ourselves at home, with God, and let God be at home in our hearts in turn. Think of this image – when you have company over, or you visit someone at their house, sometimes you are just that – company. But other times, someone will say to you, “please, make yourself at home.” When they say this, what they mean is, “be yourself here. Act here as you would act at your own home. My home is your home.”

            If we’re talking about commitment, this passage makes it pretty clear. God wants to move into your heart, permanently. And God wants you to move into God’s heart. Because if Jesus is the vine, and we are the branches, then we can have no real life apart from the vine. We’ve got Jesus’ blood, Jesus’ life, flowing right through our veins, because we are the body of Christ in the world. God wants a commitment from us, to be disciples, to follow Jesus, and we’d be smart to take it, because we die without it. Maybe not literally. But our living isn’t really abundant life. Branches just can’t exist on their own. I read this week that healthy branches, strong branches on a grape vine become so strong that unless you carefully inspect, you can’t tell at first glance which is the vine and which is the branches. That’s actually what Jesus wants! For our discipleship, for our fruit-bearing, for our Jesus-following, to make our lives so patterned after Jesus that we look like him!  The more deeply we commit to Christ, the more we make our life like his, the more we commit to following Jesus, the more like the vine our strong branch becomes, so that our branch closely resembles the Christ vine, the more we will find that we have space and time and energy for God to make a home in our hearts and transform our lives as God’s dreams take root in us and in our community and in our world.

            What kind of commitment are you ready to make in our life with God? Today is Commitment Sunday, and we have some opportunities to make commitments today, as expressions of our discipleship. We’re experiencing one form of commitment that some choose to make related to this community of faith, and our commitment to follow God. At (9:30) and at (11) during worship today, we’ve received new members of the congregation, people who want to make a particular commitment to this congregation, belonging in a particular way. You don’t have to be a member here to be fully involved in the life of the congregation, but this group of people wanted to make this particular kind of commitment, and you heard them publicly vow – along with you – that your commitment is expressed through your prayers, your presence, your gifts, your service, and your witness.

            This is also Commitment Sunday for our Stewardship Focus. For the past two weeks, we’ve asked you to think about filling up our metaphorical buckets with the visions and dreams you think God has for us here at Liverpool First. We’ve talked about these buckets in different settings around the church, had a lot of conversations about what God is dreaming about for us. And today, we come to offer one form of our commitment to this community of faith and to carrying out dreams. These commitment cards represent much more than a plan to pay our bills. We certainly appreciate being able to do that, but the commitment part comes because of our commitment to follow a generous God, a commitment to thank God for our blessings, and a commitment to God’s future for us. These cards represent that we are committed in a specific way to doing what it takes to make sure we have the resources we need to make God’s dreams for us real, concrete. God’s dreams for us are so much more than survival, or getting by, or making ends meet. God dreams life as part of the true vine, life that brings us complete joy.

            Maybe there’s another commitment that you want to make today. Maybe you’re just starting out, and you want to make a commitment to get to know more about God, more about who Jesus is. Maybe you feel that God has been calling you to do something in particular – anything from selling your stuff and becoming a missionary across the globe, to finally signing up for that Bible Study you’ve been meaning to attend, or volunteering to serve the homeless. Maybe right now you just want to commit to asking yourself the revealing question: why? Maybe today you want to commit to asking and answering the question of why you are here and what you want to get out of and put into your relationship with God. Maybe you’re ready to commit to God abiding in your heart – staying in the very core of your being, always. Maybe you’re ready to journey into the heart of God, abide in God’s heart.

            Jesus says he tells us about this committed relationship “so that [his] joy may be in [us], and that [our] joy may be complete.” Complete joy. Have you ever experienced such a thing as complete joy? Think about the times in your life when you have felt the most joy – the most sheer, unblemished, undiluted joy. I’m going to guess that these experiences of joy probably have something to do with experiences of love as well, that our experiences of joy are never just about us, but always have something to do with the relationships in our lives. Jesus speaks to us of commandments, commitments, not to burden us with unwanted contracts and bad deals, but to free us, because he wants us to have this joy not just in fleeting moments, but in complete, as a regular part of our living. “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Are you ready for a commitment?

            Amen. 

Sermon, "Not-So-Secrets of New Life: Generosity," John 21:1-19

Sermon 4/21/13

John 21:1-19

Not-So-Secrets to New Life: Generosity

            The last time I asked you all if you had seen a movie – at that time What Dreams May Come – I got a bunch of blank looks from most of you. I gave this a test run at our Christian Ed Leadership Retreat yesterday, and I’ll have better luck so I’m going to try again! How many of you have seen the Bill Murray 1993 movie Groundhog Day – gosh, did that really come out 20 years ago? The premise is this: Bill Murray’s character, Phil, isn’t really enjoying life. He’s a news reporter, and he has to report on Punxutawney Phil, and whether or not he sees his shadow on Groundhog Day. The day doesn’t go very well as a whole. He finally goes to sleep, wakes up in the morning – and instead of being the next day, it’s the same day all over again. He finds, for some reason, he has to keep living the same day over and over. And at first, he doesn’t really try to do anything differently. Presented with the same day, Phil does basically the same thing. Eventually, eventually, dissatisfied with the life he is experiencing, dissatisfied with the way he’s spent this day, again, and again, he starts to make changes. Finally, when he’s changed his life, inside and outside, he wakes up to February 3^rd and a new beginning.

            We are still in the season of Easter. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, we are Easter people – we always live in the reality of the resurrection, and we specifically celebrate the Great Season of Easter for 50 days – the time between Easter morning and the day of Pentecost. And today, that’s where we again find the disciples. They are in this sort of limbo time – Jesus has been resurrected, he’s been seeing the disciples, but they haven’t been doing anything different. They’re not talking to others, as far as we can tell, about the fact that Jesus has been resurrected. They don’t seem to be talking about his teachings, or his miracles, or his healing, or his ministry, or the last three years of their life. In fact, at the opening of this passage, they’ve gone back to doing exactly what they were doing when Jesus first called them years earlier. They’re fishing, and not catching any fish. It is as if they’re just starting over, back at square one. And just as before, Jesus intervenes. He tells them where to cast the nets, and they catch so many fish they can barely get back to shore.

            Once they’re back on land, Jesus shares a meal of fish and bread with the disciples, and he sits down for a conversation with Peter. Jesus say, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?’ which has the sense of, “Do you love me more than anything?” And Peter answers, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ And Jesus says, ‘Feed my lambs.’ A second time he says to Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ And Peter answers, ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.’ Jesus says to him, ‘Tend my sheep.’ Then Jesus says a third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter, we read feels hurt because Jesus keeps asking him this question over and over, as if he is not satisfied with Peter’s response. But he answers again, with more detail: ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ And Jesus says once more, ‘Feed my sheep.’ With just a few more verses, the gospel of John comes to a close.

            Peter had, of course, denied he even knew Jesus, three times in a row, just days before this encounter. Even though Peter seems hurt, frustrated here, I see this encounter as a generous gift from Jesus. He’s telling Peter that even though Peter thinks everything is the same, back to normal, his regular old life, in fact, everything has changed. He is forgiven, forgiven, forgiven. Jesus accepts Peter’s love, and lets him say it as many times as he once denied Jesus. And Jesus, three times, tells Peter he has work to do, work that God is entrusting to Peter’s leadership, even though Peter has made mistakes, sinned, screwed up in major ways. God is far from done with Peter. It is just beginning. Everything is about to change for Peter, again. There is no going back. His life has been transformed, and he’s been resurrected alongside Jesus.

Jesus reminds us that the thing we need to inspire change has already happened: Resurrection! New life! All things new! New creations in Christ! If we are looking for that one thing that will finally inspire us to live new lives, Jesus reminds us that we’ve already received the gift. We just need to open it, and put it to use, instead of leaving the wrapped gift sitting on a shelf. We need to be resurrected alongside Jesus. Otherwise, we read the gospel and find that life before and after Easter looks pretty much the same.

That’s what I’m wondering about today. It is fascinating that a story in the gospel before and after the resurrection can look so similar – until you get to the part where Jesus pushes and prods and encourages and nurtures until Peter is finally ready to do a new thing. What about our lives? Do they read the same, before and after? Is there any difference in our lives with and without Jesus? I think of those images, those puzzles, where you see two images side by side, that are almost identical, and you have to find the minute, tiny changes. Is our before and after picture with God like that – so small you can hardly tell that it isn’t the same old same old? Or is the transformation obvious?

            I just shared this story with some folks here in the past few weeks: Some years ago, when I was serving my first church, I had found a lump in my collarbone that wasn’t there before. My mother, always an optimist, was hopeful, encouraging me to be so too. But I couldn’t be. I just had a bad feeling about things. I was very worried. Stressed to the max. A big black cloud hanging over my head. I had an exam with my doctor, who didn’t just wave it off as nothing. He recommended a CT scan. I had a scan, then a second, which showed several lymph nodes that were slightly enlarged. One doctor wanted to do surgery, a biopsy, right away. But at the last minute, he wasn’t able to do the procedure, and I had to see another surgeon. He wanted to wait. He thought it was an infection that would resolve. And so I waited, six weeks of waiting. I found it to be a long time to wait.  And in those six weeks, I found I’d become something of a hypochondriac. I worried about everything, and wasn’t really enjoying anything. But finally, the six weeks passed, and I got good news. News I hardly dared to hope for. All the lymph nodes were smaller. I walked out with a clean bill of health, and I knew I should be grateful for receiving news that so many others wished to receive and didn’t. Only, I didn’t seem to feel much relief. My good news was too hard for me to believe. I had been so convinced that something was wrong that I kept forgetting, actually, that I'd had this good news. I kept checking my collarbone, feeling the node, worrying. I'd been in such a funk for so long that I kept wanting to feel and react as if I hadn’t had the good news yet. I wasn’t quite ready to believe that the news could be so good. There was no difference between my before and after picture.

In the book Falling Upward by Richard Rohr, he writes, ʺMerely to survive and preserve our life is a low-level instinct that we share with [animals], but it is not heroism in any classic sense. We were meant to thrive and not just survive. We are glad when someone survives, and that surely took some courage and effort. But what are you going to do with your now resurrected life? That is the heroic question.ʺ (21) God wants so much more for us, for our lives, for our congregation, for our world, than that we survive. More than getting by. More than the same old-same old. So much more. So much more, that God breaks into our life in human form to give it to us – life, abundant, resurrected, transformed, new, more than we’ve imagined.

We’re embarking on our stewardship campaign today. We’ve been asked to think about what dreams and hopes for our congregation will fill our buckets. In our wildest dreams, what is God calling us to do? In my experience, it is really hard for us to dream big, and believe that God has big dreams for us. Somehow, we’re sure that there’s nothing new under the sun. Somehow, we’re sure that we’re going to wake up tomorrow, and it will be Groundhog Day all over again, and instead of trying something different, we might as well just go through whatever we did to get through the first time. Somehow, we’re trying to just survive. Somehow, we’re just getting back in the boats and fishing in empty waters.

Friends, our generous God offers us forgiveness for whatever has held us back in our past, and reminds us as many times as we need to be reminded that the slate’s been wiped clean, just as Jesus reminded Peter. Our generous God will fill our nets again, or fill up our buckets again, if we need reminding of what God at work in us can do, the beyond-our-wildest-dreams miracles God can work in our world. And again, our God will start us out with a charge, a call, a commission, a challenge: Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep. Get going, get moving, get dreaming, get loving. The resurrection is now, new life if yours, start living. Our generous God will give us as many beginnings as we need. Let’s take advantage of even one of them, one new beginning, and we’ll see God’s dreams become our reality. God is doing a new thing here. It’s a new day. Where we see endings, worse – where we see the same old thing, God gives us a new beginning. An after picture. A flock to feed. A gift to open. A tomorrow that’s today. How will you change?

Amen.

           

Sermon, "Not-So-Secrets of New Life: Simplicity," John 9:1-41

Sermon 4/14/13

John 9:1-41

Not-So-Secrets of New Life: Simplicity

            Many of you know I’ve been trying hard to have a healthier lifestyle – eating better, moving more. I’ve been getting into a rhythm, and it feels good. But, like most people, I admit I sometimes wish there was an easier way, a quick fix, that would still allow me to eat as many slices of pizza as I want at our pizza and games party this afternoon! The easy way out. Aren’t we all looking for that sometimes? I still vividly remember meeting a woman while I was serving as a chaplaincy intern at Crouse Hospital during seminary. She was telling me about her diet plans, because when people are stressed and worried about big things in their life, they will often talk a lot about the less stressful, worrisome things just to have a break. She was frustrated that her dieting didn’t seem successful, and she explained to me in detail what she was doing. On certain days of the week, she’d follow the Atkins plan, and on certain days she’d do South Beach, and certain days she’d do Weight Watchers, and so on. A little bit of this plan, a little bit of that plan. The end result seemed to be that she picked the foods she liked best from every program, and ditched any parts of the diet that were too tough or unpleasant. And surprisingly, this was not proving to be a successful plan!

            We can smile/laugh at this obvious plan for failure, because we can see the absurdity of it. But I suspect that all of us have some areas of our life that we approach the same way. There’s something we want to do or be or achieve. We may even want it very badly. But we really, really want to find an easy way to do it, to get it, to be it. We know the steps it would take to accomplish the task, but we’d really like to skip steps 2-9 and go straight to the last step. In my experience, though, almost nothing worth having in life can be attained in this way. As Jesus-followers, I believe that sometimes we approach our discipleship, our walk with God in the same way. There are certain things we’d like to get out of relationship with God. But we really, really want to find an easy way to do it.

For example, there’s how we read the Bible. We all have different ways of reading, understanding, and interpreting the Bible, which is not a bad thing. We bring different perspectives together in a community of faith, which makes for great conversation, where we learn from each other. Most of us tend to use the same techniques to read the Bible for the whole book. For example, if we tend to read stories and view them literally, we do that consistently. If we see a lot of metaphor in the Bible, we tend to always see a lot of metaphor. If we seek out the historical fact of a passage, that’s often how we read the whole Bible. The usual “lens” we use to look at the scriptures is called our hermeneutic. Your hermeneutic, your lens, might be different from my lens, and that’s ok. But it is the best if you are consistent with what lens you use. What raises alarm bells for me is when we suddenly discard our usual method of interpretation when we get to challenging passages of scripture because we don’t like the conclusion our usual method brings us to. If your usual way of reading scripture works for you right up until you realize you’d have to change your life if the scripture means what you think it mean, well, we’re probably looking for that easy way out. One of my favorite quotations is from theologian Søren Kierkegaard. He writes,

The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world? Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you? Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament. (1)

Kierkegaard writes with a sense of humor, certainly. But he also means very much what he says. He argues that what the Bible calls us to do, how it calls us to live – that’s simple. We try to make it more complicated to protect ourselves from having to do what the Bible says – we take the easy way out, ironically, by pretending the Bible is too difficult to understand. I love this quote because of how uncomfortably true it rings for me! I think simplicity is something we seek after in our crazy, fast-paced culture. I seek it. I value simplicity. I think the Bible even speaks to the value of simplicity. But I think sometimes we hear “simple” and we think “easy.” We’d like that too – easy. Just like the Staples commercials. A nice, big, red Easy button. But simple and easy are not actually synonyms. What God calls us to do might be simple. But I’m not sure that means it is easy.  

            Our gospel lesson from John today is a passage that starts out as a simple healing story. Ok, healing might not be simple for us, but for Jesus, stories of his healing are frequent, and if you just read the several verses of this story, you’d think it was a “typical” healing story. Jesus sees a man who is blind, a beggar who has been blind since birth, while traveling with the disciples, and Jesus, saying he is the light of the world, creates mud with his own spittle, puts it on the man’s eyes, and tells him to go wash the mud off in the pool of Siloam. The man does as Jesus tells him, and sure enough, he is healed. He can see.

            A healing. How would you respond? If someone was blind, and this man, preaching about God, healed this person’s blindness, what would you say? Well, of course, we’d rejoice! We’d be thrilled, right? We’d thank God! If we didn’t know God, or know this preacher, we’d probably start to take this man and his message a little more seriously, maybe think there was something to this God thing after all. Simple, right? The most natural way in the world to respond to this miraculous healing, right?

And yet, instead of this passage being a few verses long, it is 41 verses, one of our longer single scenes with Jesus. And in those 41 verses, no one, other than Jesus and the formerly-blind man himself seem particularly happy about the healing. Something else is happening here. We’re tipped off in the first verse when Jesus and the disciples first encounter the blind man. One of the disciples asked, “Who sinned, that caused this man’s blindness? Was it the man, or his parents?” That question might sound weird to us, but in Jesus’ day, blindness or illness in general, or really any bad circumstances in your life, like poverty or disease – they were mostly attributed to sinful behavior, punishment from God as consequences for not being righteous enough. And the punishment could span generations. If you, a parent, were sinful, your children might be punished. Part of us recoils at this logic, thinking it totally ridiculous. But part of us can relate – the questions we ask when someone gets sick, gets cancer, aren’t always so different today. Why did this happen? What did so and so do to deserve this? Our questions imply we believe God is the cause of the event, don’t they? When Jesus answers the disciple, “neither this man nor his parent sinned,” his response is hugely impactful. Jesus heals to glorify God, to show that he is the light of the world. And a man who was born blind can now see. But the rest of the passage shows us the curious reactions of everyone around Jesus and this man.

The disciples start out wanting to analyze the reason for the man’s blindness, as if he is an interesting subject of theological debate. They never speak to the man directly – Jesus does that. The man’s neighbors, when they see him healed, don’t recognize him. Remember, nothing has changed about this man’s physical appearance. He was blind, and now he can see. But his neighbors, who have lived near where he sat begging, aren’t sure it is him. How can they fail to recognize him? I can only suspect that as a blind beggar, someone on the fringe of society, his neighbors never really paid him much attention, never really looked him in the face, made eye contact, as we sometime do when we are confronted with need and we’d rather keep on walking. So the neighbors aren’t sure this is even the man born blind at all, or that maybe, this man wasn’t blind his whole life as he’d claimed.

The Pharisees, the religious leaders of the day, get involved. They fight over whether the man was healed by a person from God or not, since the healing took place on the Sabbath, and healing would have been a forbidden act of “work” not “rest.” Some of them say only a man from God could have done this healing, and the formerly blind man calls Jesus a prophet, but other Pharisees can’t believe a rule-breaker like Jesus could have performed this healing. How they explain the man in front of them who can see, I’m just not sure. So they call the man back to explain his situation again, and to urge him to call Jesus a sinner, and tell the truth – in other words, tell some other version of the story that would fit with their rules about who God can use and how God can use them. The man, once blind, is baffled. “Do you want to become his disciples? Is that why you have so many questions about this miracle?” The Pharisees become more enraged.

The man’s parents are called in. Surely, they will be thrilled, right? But instead, they deflect questions. They will confirm that he was blind, and now he can see. But they say they know nothing about who healed him or how, and repeatedly they tell people to talk to their son, not them. They’re afraid of getting in trouble with the synagogue leaders.

Finally, the man who was healed is reunited with Jesus, and when Jesus confirms his identity as the son of God, the man worships Jesus. Jesus responds, “‘I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” The Pharisees, overhearing this, can’t believe that Jesus implies they are the ones who are blind. But Jesus concludes, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.” This story, this healing, is about something that should be so simple. A man was blind, and now he sees. Thanks be to God! But we witness in this passage everyone taking what is very simple, and making it very, very complicated, so that they can take the easy way out, and not have to change their lives, not have to give up their power, not have to admit their wrongs, not have to wrestle with their assumptions, not have to let go of their prejudices and stereotypes, and not have to let God be in charge.

Easy sounds so good to us sometimes. But that’s not that how we receive the fullness of the abundant life God promises. Fortunately, even though discipleship isn’t always easy, it is pretty simple, when we don’t muddy the waters. Follow Jesus. Try to do what he does, love like he loves. Not always easy. Maybe the hardest things we will ever do. But Jesus, light of the world, opens our eyes, and leads the way. We simply have to follow. Amen.     

(1)   From Provocations, by Søren Kierkegaard.

Jesus Christ Superstar: From the Other Side

        This year, after twenty-one years of seeing Jesus Christ Superstar performed by Salt City Center for the Performing Arts, Ted Neeley’s various touring incarnations, my alma mater, and the Stratford Festival, and after harassing various church musicians into incorporating Superstar into worship so I could get a small taste of participating in the production, Saturday night I finally got to take the stage as a bona fide member of the cast, in all my miscellaneous-villager glory, instead of singing along quietly(ish) from my seat.

            I’ve spent a lot of time writing about the production over the years, reviewing the show, offering my peanut-gallery comments. Now, as a cast member, I can’t exactly give an unbiased review, so instead, I offer some reflections.

            First, I had so much fun being in the show. I was a theatre minor in college, and even though theatre was my minor and pre-theology was my major, my life in college revolved around theatre. That’s what took up my time. I worked on just about every regular season show during my three years at Ohio Wesleyan in some capacity or another. I loved it. I’ve missed it. Since becoming a pastor, I hadn’t yet been able to figure out how to incorporate theatre into my life. During my first year of ministry, I did makeup design for a community theatre production. (I cannot even recall the title of the show I worked on – how sad is that?) I ended up missing several shows due to deaths in my congregation, and I never really tried to get involved again. Recently, I noticed that one of my colleagues (thank you, Michael Terrell) was doing some theatre in his community, and I began for the first time in a long time to consider whether or not I could get involved in something again.

            But this wasn’t just any show. This was Jesus Christ Superstar. As I was waiting in the wings right before my first entrance – “What’s the Buzz?” – I realized I had a huge grin on my face, and I was having a little trouble wiping it off to replace with “perplexed townsperson.” I’ve imagined being in the show for so long. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but I really didn’t see how I would be able to be in the show that went up during Holy Week while I was serving a church. I am so thankful for this experience.

            In fact, as I think about my experience, a lot of “thank yous” come to mind. I want to thank my co-pastor, Aaron Bouwens, for not minding, for being supportive, when I told him I had committed to a project that would mess up our carefully worked out schedules, make me unavailable for some meetings, leave him on his own at Good Friday worship, and render me exhausted on Easter morning. I have to thank my congregation at Liverpool First UMC. It would be easy, especially when we are still in our first year together, for folks to have balked at my spending so much time away during Lent, rushing out at the ends of meetings to catch second halves of rehearsal, rescheduling programs to accommodate my schedule, etc. Instead, they were totally excited for me, and got together a huge group to come and cheer me on Saturday night (and then they still showed up on Sunday morning for worship!) I feel very blessed to be their pastor. I’m thankful to Bob Brown and Cathleen O'Brien Brown for being so flexible when I filled up my audition form with a huge list of rehearsal conflicts, and for Bob, as a director, going out of his way to make sure that the other pastor and I who were in the show could choose to portray our villager-characters in a way that wouldn't be harmful to our spirits – so thoughtful. I’m thankful to my family, and my dear friend Heather, for celebrating me on Saturday! There were flowers, “Beth Quick, Superstar” t-shirts, and Heather, also a pastor, might have had other things on her mind Saturday night, but she was still there, cheering me on! And of course, I have to thank Henry Wilson, who was playing Judas the first time I ever saw the show, who I had a huge crush on, which in turn fueled my love of the show, my questions about Judas, my theological searchings, and really, impacted my path into ministry in some important ways. I’ve been very upfront in writing about this influence on my blog and in my sermons over the years, and to be the focus of that commentary – well, there are many different ways a person might react to that! Henry, who I finally met after all these years, was entirely kind and gracious, and I enjoyed getting to watch him, now playing Jesus, bring the same depth and quality to this role that he always has, always taking rehearsals seriously, culminating in a truly moving performance.

            I know the folks involved in Superstar bring a variety of faiths and believes and experiences to the show. For me, though, it is always a spiritual experience. What would you have done, if you’d been there? Where would you be in the crowd? As a teenager, watching Superstar awakened in me the lifelong quest to answer those questions. It is so easy to believe that we would be supporters of Jesus, defenders, pleading for his freedom, pleading for his innocence. The thing is, I’ve never been much of a risk-taker. Heck, I even sat in my car for a good while on the night of Superstar auditions, talking myself out of auditioning several times before I finally went in and took the plunge, and that was for an experience that was all for my benefit, that I knew I would love. Would I risk raising my voice in an angry mob, shouting for crucifixion? I wonder how many of us would even be in that crowd, and how many of us would avoid the scene altogether, just trying to stay out of it. Where would be in that crowd? Where I am in this crowd? I claim to be a disciple of Jesus – what risks am I taking today to stand up against injustice? To speak for the marginalized? To love in the radical, sacrificial way of Jesus? What cost am I willing to incur? What truths must I speak and live? On this Easter Sunday, I feel particularly blessed to have had such an awesome vehicle for exploring these questions in Superstar, as I continue seeking new life.