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Sermons available on
line beginning September, 2011
See Sermons from September 2010 to June 2011
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC Truth is the secret of eloquence and of virtue, the basis of moral authority; it is the highest summit of art and of life. ―Henri Frédéric Amiel (1821–1881)
Scripture Lessons A Question of Authority Would it surprise anyone particularly to learn that when I was in high school I used to wear an army surplus parka with a button on it that read “Question Authority?” It was a predictable adolescent pose of the late seventies for a teen who had not yet discovered Punk Rock and had romanticized the sixties while refusing to embrace disco. Yes, as a teenager in Dallas, Texas in the late seventies, I was a rebel without a clue. In our scripture lessons today we see a kind of search for authority. In Deuteronomy we heard Moses relate God’s promise to provide prophets for the people. Because the Israelites could not bear to stand in God’s presence, prophets would speak God’s word to them and relate God’s revelations to the people. But because the role of the prophet was so crucial, the text made clear that God would choose the prophet and the prophet would pay with his life if he spoke erroneously in the name of God. The same went for prophets who spoke in the names of other gods. Similarly, the community was warned that if they did not heed the words of the prophet, God would hold them accountable. Here we see the establishment of prophetic authority in the life of Israel, explicitly modeled after Moses’ prophetic leadership. Deuteronomy is the perfect book for such an authorization to take place. The whole book is framed as Moses’ farewell address to the Israelites at the end of his life just before Joshua led them into the Promised Land. At the end of Deuteronomy, God led Moses to the top of Mount Nebo where he could see the Promised Land before the Israelites would cross the Jordan without him. Moses then died and was buried in an undisclosed location. Many believe this was so that cults of veneration would not rise up at the site of his tomb. The end of Deuteronomy says of Moses, “…there has not arisen a prophet since in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face, none like him for all the signs and the wonders that the LORD sent him to do in the land of Egypt, to Pharaoh and to all his servants and to all his land, and for all the mighty power and all the great deeds of terror that Moses did in the sight of all Israel.” (Deuteronomy 34: 10-12) This is a foundational moment in the life of Israel. A generation had passed since being liberated from slavery in Egypt. Now they would have to continue without Moses, who had let them through the wilderness. He brought them the commandments. With Moses they had established the priesthood and a rudimentary judiciary. Those were largely based on the commandments and what God had told Moses. How would the Israelites know what God wanted them to do without Moses? God’s answer was that prophets would rise up to tell them. From then on prophets would serve a critical role in the religious and political life of Israel. A prophet anointed the first two kings of Israel. From then on, it would be prophets who spoke out when the kings did not live up to God’s intentions for the nation of Israel. The prophets spoke with the authority of the name of God, often prefacing their message “thus says the Lord.” You’ll notice that Jesus did not say that when he taught in the synagogue in Capernaum. In today’s Gospel Lesson, people commented on how he spoke. “They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” (Mark 1:22) Jesus spoke on his own authority as the Son of God, the Word of God become flesh. Not only did Jesus astonish the congregation with his teaching, but after he exorcised an unclean spirit, he received supernatural recognition of his authority when the spirit itself addressed Jesus, saying, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God." (Mark 1:24b) The passage ends with the crowd marveling and asking, "What is this? A new teaching — with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him." (Mark 1:27b) For us, as Protestant Christians, that is the core of the Gospel Lesson as well as the center of our faith. It identifies Jesus’ teaching as our central source of authority. The authoritative source for Jesus’ teaching is scripture. Since the Protestant Reformation, we have looked to the Bible as the primary source of theological authority. But the Bible is a big and complicated book. How are we to make sense of it all? When I wrote my ordination paper I described an interpretive principle that I based on the Trinity. The first part of this model reflects the creator/lawgiver called The Father in the ancient creeds. I call this a canonical interpretive principle. By this I wanted to assert that every passage has to be understood in the context of the whole of scripture. No verse can be understood in isolation. In the early church, there were those who believed that Christians should only read the New Testament that Hebrew Bible no longer applied. Cooler heads prevailed, and now four-fifths of what most Christians call the Bible is Hebrew Bible. Obviously the teaching and ministry of Jesus are central to our faith. They are definitive. So the second interpretive principle corresponds to The Son. Any Christian theology has to be Christocentric. Our entire moral and theological understanding springs from the ministry and teachings of Jesus Christ. Therefore, we understand the Bible through Jesus’ teachings of radical hospitality, compassion, love, justice and forgiveness. Because ours is a living faith, guided by eternal spiritual truths which remain relevant in the real world, we require a dynamic means of interpreting scripture. To complicate matters further, the newest parts of the Bible are 2000 years old. Other parts are much older. Our times are different from the times when scripture was written down. Though the human realism and sacred teachings are as true as ever, the lives we live every day are different and society (I hope) has progressed a little bit in 2000 years. Therefore, when scripture talks about regulating slavery, or a few isolated verses condemn homosexuality, we have to make room for engaging scripture with our conscience. When we have cause to question the enduring relevance of a given passage, we have the canonical and Christocentric criteria to weigh our conscientious engagement against. We want to guard against simply justifying our biases. This conscientious reading of scripture corresponds to the Holy Spirit, and provides a dynamic engagement with scripture within the constant flux of life. The Holy Spirit has inspired and guided us since the beginning of the church, and inspired the prophets before that. The conscientious reading of scripture has formed and reformed the church throughout the centuries. The Protestant Reformation might never have happened without Martin Luther’s conscientious reading of the epistles. I think every major social reform movement embraced by the church has roots in a conscientious reading of the Bible, from the abolition of slavery, to the civil rights movement, to Open and Affirming. The point is not that it is so important to have a systematic method to interpret the Bible. The important thing is that we read the Bible with our minds and hearts open. And when I say that our minds should be open, we don’t want our minds so open that our brains fall out. But we must engage the words of God with open hearts, guided by the core principles of love. Jesus commanded us to love one another. If we did that we would be known as his disciples. By a lively engagement with scripture, interpreted with humility in the context of a faith community, we can know and make known the love of God, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC Hope is a dimension of the spirit. It is not outside us, but within us. When you lose it, you must seek it again within yourself and in people around you – not in objects or even in events. ―Václav Havel
Scripture Lessons How Many Rings? I used to wonder how many rings you were supposed to wait for someone to answer the phone, back in the days when people only had one phone number, few people had answering machines, and one maybe two telephones at home with actual wires that tied the phone to your house. When you called someone, how many rings were you supposed to wait before you assumed no one was home. All that began to change with the advent of answering machines, caller i.d., voice mail and cell phones. Remember when we used those antiquated mechanical answering machines that used actual tapes to play outgoing messages and a separate one to record missed callers? That gave rise to the sneaking suspicion that people were monitoring the incoming message when they were really home. Of course now that many, if not most of us, carry a phone with us every time we leave the house, getting a phone call can happen just about anywhere and there may be no ring at all. I heard on the radio recently that neurologists have identified a condition called phantom vibration syndrome. This condition causes people to feel the vibration of a cell phone when no one is actually calling or even when a phone may not even be present. In this case there is no ring and no call, but merely the sensation of a call. When I was in graduate school, it was common for seminarians to talk among themselves about how they experienced the call to ministry. It varied widely from person to person. Some would describe a near-mystical experience. For another it could be as simple as loving the smell of an old hymnal. There still remained the problem of discernment. How could one be certain it was God that was calling? In our scripture lessons we see contrasting responses to a divine call. Notice that our passage from Jonah begins, “The Word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.” (Jonah 3:1) The Hebrew Bible Lesson for this morning began in the third chapter of Jonah (which only has four chapters). The first chapter of Jonah starts “Now the word of the Lord came to Jonah son of Amittai, saying, ‘Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’” Jonah 1:1-2) What happened between the beginning of Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 is what we remember Jonah best for: doing everything he could to avoid going to Nineveh. Rather than going at once to Nineveh, Jonah bought passage on board a ship in the port of Joppa bound for Tarshish. Almost as soon as they set sail, they were caught in a storm at sea. As the ship started to break up, the crew began to jettison cargo to lighten their load. While the crew “cried each to his god,” (Jonah 1:5) Jonah went below to sleep in the hold. The captain went down to wake him and asked him why he wasn’t praying to his God. Jonah told the captain that he was the reason God had thrown up a storm in their path. The crew threw Jonah overboard and the seas calmed. God sent a large fish to rescue Jonah, and Jonah survived for three days in the belly of that fish before it “…spewed Jonah out upon the dry land.” (Jonah 2:10) Here we find Jonah at the beginning of this morning’s passage, when “The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.” (Jonah 3:1) This time Jonah took up his call and walked the length and breadth of the city of Nineveh. You can understand why Jonah did not want to go to a hostile foreign city where they did not even share his religion and tell the people there that they were bad and if they did not change their ways his God would destroy them. But that is exactly what he did and they listened. They repented, declared a fast and everyone from the king down put on sackcloth as a sign of repentance. Because of their repentance, God’s mind changed, and Nineveh was not destroyed. When Jesus called his first disciples as he walked along the Sea of Galilee, Simon, Andrew, James and John were working. As we read it, we know Jesus as the Son of God, but how could they? He was also on the run. In the aftermath of the arrest of John the Baptist, his disciples (of which Jesus may have been one) scattered. And yet four fishermen abandoned their nets and followed. Mark makes the point, “…immediately they left their nets and followed him.” (Mark 1:18) What was it about Jesus that led these fishermen to drop everything and follow Jesus? What was it about these four fishermen that they would hear such a call and follow? What was going on in their lives that allowed them to drop everything and follow Jesus? Would any of us do that? In reality, I doubt if any of us could or would drop everything and follow an itinerant preacher on a vague mission. We have no way of knowing whether or not Jesus knew the others before he walked up to them on the beach. Perhaps this is the product of several conversations. Perhaps not. I think if anyone we knew dropped everything to become a disciple at the ground floor of some new ministry, we’d worry. Maybe we would call a deprogrammer. The question remains, how do we know when God is calling us? Is there some kind of metaphysical caller i.d.? Perhaps there is. I think we best understand what God is calling us to do when we spend part of every day listening. How often do any of us take a little time every day to listen? Listening is an important kind of prayer. It is important that we take time to just be quiet and listen. Prayer is not simply asking God for what we want and what we need. It is also about listening for what God asks of us. If we listen and if we respond to what God is asking of us, we may discover what we really need, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in Newton, UCC None of the prophets took on their assignments willingly or gladly. Moses complained that he was not eloquent enough and that people wouldn’t believe him. Isaiah claimed himself unworthy, “a man of unclean lips.” Samuel was just a little boy. Ezekiel was sent out to preach to dead bones. Jonah refused to go to Nineveh, and yet God took these people and turned them into something for his purpose.
―Peter J. Gomes The Good Book: Reading the Bible with Mind and Heart
Scripture Lessons To Make Everyone’s Ears Tingle So “…the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli…” (1Samuel 3:1) the high priest in Shiloh. He was working at the Tent of Meeting where the Ark of the Covenant was kept in a common shrine. This was the golden box with cherubim with outstretched wings. It had been in Shiloh since Joshua and the Israelites entered the land. When David established Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, he brought the Ark there. When the passage states that Samuel was just a boy, it means just that. His mother had brought him there as soon as he was weaned and dedicated him to serve there. Samuel was a miracle baby from the start. His mother Hannah was married to Elkanah, who had another wife, Peninnah. Peninnah had children with Elkanah, but Hannah had not (for which Peninnah taunted Hannah mercilessly). When Elkanah made pilgrimage to Shiloh every year to make their annual sacrifice as a family, the trek was a mixture of family vacation and Thanksgiving rolled into one. When Elkanah offered sacrifice some of it went to support the priests, but the family that made an offering made a feast of their portion of the meat. They often brought wine to offer as well which added to the celebration and was given to the priests as well. During the pilgrimage, after she had eaten, Hannah went into the shrine , wept and poured out her heart in prayer before the Ark. Eli saw her lips moving silently yet fervently, and reprimanded her, believing she was drunk. Eli said, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.” (1Samuel 1:14) But Hannah protested, saying. “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.” (1 Samuel 1:16) Eli then blessed her, saying, “Go in peace, the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.” (1 Samuel 1:17) After Hannah and Elkanah and the whole household returned to Ramah, along came a bouncing baby Samuel. Out of gratitude, Hannah pledged Samuel to the service of God. By the time of the next year’s trip to Shiloh, Hannah stayed behind with Samuel telling Elkanah she would take him the following year once he was weaned, because then he would have to stay in Shiloh, serving God at the shrine. After that, Samuel only saw his parents once a year when they came to Shiloh to make sacrifice. Hannah, between visits, would make Samuel the garments he needed to serve at the shrine. Hannah and Elkanah had more children, while Samuel grew up in Shiloh. At the same time, Eli the high priest was growing old. His eyesight was fading, and he was losing control of his two sons who served at Shiloh with him. Phinehas and Hophni were disgraceful. They would often demand the best cuts of meat from the Israelites who came to make sacrifice, taking it from them before the rituals of the sacrifice had even been completed. They also harassed women who came to serve at the shrine. Eli tried to reprimand his sons, but they basically ignored him. One has to wonder what the young boy Samuel made of all this. Phinehas and Hophni were essentially Samuel’s foster brothers. Judging by their behavior, I can’t imagine they were very pleasant to grow up around. Perhaps they teased and bullied the nice little kid their father spent so much time with. Perhaps Hophni and Phinehas were too intent on what they could get for themselves from the steady stream of pilgrims to pay much attention to little Samuel. I am sure young Samuel was keenly aware of what went on around him. The account of Samuel hearing the voice of God for the first time sets up almost like a joke. The dutiful young Samuel lay down to sleep by the Ark of the Covenant, as the nearly blind Eli slept nearby. Samuel heard his name called, and he ran to Eli to see what he wanted. Eli sent him back to bed. Again, Samuel heard his name called. Again Samuel went to see what Eli wanted. Eli told Samuel that he had not called the boy and sent him back to bed. A third time, Samuel heard his name called in the night, and again he went to Eli. This time it occurred to Eli that God must be the one calling Samuel. This time, Eli instructed Samuel to go lie down and if he heard his name called again, to answer, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:9) This time God spoke to Samuel and revealed a judgment against Eli and his sons. After he had listened, he stayed quietly until morning when he would have to open up the Tent of Meeting. Samuel was afraid to tell Eli about the vision. As soon as he could, Eli asked Samuel about what he had heard in the night. Eli insisted, “Do not hide it from me. May God so do to you and more also if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” (1Samuel 3:18) So Samuel told Eli everything and did not hold anything back. It must have been a difficult conversation for the boy, revealing God’s judgment to the old man who had raised and mentored Samuel. Still the imperfect teacher confirmed to Samuel that he had indeed heard the voice of God, and Eli accepted the judgment. At this point, the Israelites are in the Promised Land, but do not yet rule it. It is unclear how much of the land they even control. They are one among various tribal and religious groups living there. Shiloh was the recognized religious center for the Israelites. Though there was corruption within the community leadership, there was a general and earnest effort to serve God and discern God’s intentions for the community, and the community had the means to reform from within through prophets. An elder religious authority trained the new leaders and helped them discern vocations. Through this awkward first oracle, Eli helped Samuel understand his vocation as a prophet. Samuel would become one of the most important early prophets in Israel. He would anoint Israel’s first two kings, Saul and David. As we heard at the end of the passage, “As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him, and let none of his words fall to the ground.” (1 Samuel 3:19) I have always liked the story of the call of Samuel. Reading it this time something caught my eye in a way it had not before. The first thing God said to Samuel was “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle.” (1 Samuel 3:11) That seemed like such a vivid image to me, I figured someone must have commented on it, whether it had colloquial meaning as an expression or whether this signaled something extraordinary. I looked at some resource materials, consulted a seminary professor and a rabbi, but found no leads about the significance of news causing ears to tingle. Still it must be significant. I bet ears were tingling on the mall in Washington D.C. when Dr. King spoke of a dream. I bet ears were tingling on the last night of his life when Dr. King spoke of his vision from the mountaintop. It made me wonder what God might do with us that would cause ears to tingle when the people heard it. If we listen for the word of God and seek to do God’s will, faithfully serving and worshipping God, we can make news that will cause ears to tingle, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in Newton, UCC Grant that this day and every day, we may keep our shock of wonder at each new beauty that comes upon us as we walk down the paths of life: and that we may say in our hearts when horror and ugliness intervene, Thy will be done. ―Kathy Keay
Scripture Lessons In the Beginnings
Confirmation can feel a bit like a graduation, but only is in the sense of the standard line someone always says at every commencement ceremony and probably will until the end of time: “Graduation is not an end, but a beginning.” So then, Confirmation is not an end, it is a beginning. For the record, both Scripture Lessons for this morning came from the Lectionary assigned for the first Sunday after Epiphany. We celebrate the Magi arriving to present their gifts to the Christ child having followed a star to find him. We read that God’s first act of creation was to make light, just as the days begin to get a little longer and we celebrate light breaking into our darkness. Today we celebrate our Confirmands’ coming of age within the Christian faith by confirming the baptismal vows made for them when they were babies. In the Gospel Lesson, we heard the story of Christ’s baptism by John. That event was a kind of ordination as Jesus prepared for his public ministry. In our tradition we view baptism as a kind of ordination. We are all ministers, a priesthood of all believers. Though this is, for each of the Confirmands, a unique and personal moment of faith commitment; as a faith community we take this opportunity to affirm our covenant with God and one another. Today we celebrate as eight Christians accepted responsibility for their own faith and ministry. But what about the rest of us? What does it mean for us, all of us, to be the Body of Christ in 2012? What does it mean for us to be Christians in West Newton a dozen years into the twenty-first century? It is a tricky question to ask in the complicated world we live in. Clearly it means different things for each of us, just as we each bring our own unique gifts to offer. We got out of bed on a Sunday morning. Many of us are here other times during the week to make sure that the various ministries of our church go forward. It is amazing to me, because we all lead such busy lives, and yet, here we are gathered to reflect on God’s Word, preparing to share Christ’s table as Christians have done for 2000 years. It has to be more than simply a habit and affection for ancient ritual, even though there is nothing wrong with that - habit and ritual have real power to form us in profound ways. The fact that we are still here after 230 years is testimony to a reality far stronger and deeper than habit or ritual. It has to do with vision and mission, the ones we share, and the visions and vocations we bring with us and add to the mix. But they all come down to a commitment to making God’s love and justice real and known in West Newton and around the world. This summer members of Second Church’s Senior High Youth Group will make God’s love real on a Lakota reservation in South Dakota and several of us will serve in the jungle of Oaxaca, Mexico. The choir proclaims God’s love every Thursday night and Sunday morning, the Board for Mission and Advocacy makes God’s love real through shelter cooking twice a month as well as a variety of other ways. Every Sunday School teacher who taught these eight confirmands through the years made the love of God real in a way that led them to this day to make public testimony of their Christian commitment. As we gather here in this sanctuary on Confirmation Sunday, it is hard to look at those eight young men and women without feeling a sense of hope. They are on their way. Perhaps “on their way” is not quite what I want to say. It sounds too much like graduation. Perhaps the right thing to say is that they have arrived. Jen, Charlie, Sam, Maria, Josh, Sean, Lindsay and Mackey, you have arrived as full members of The Second Church in Newton, with all the rights and obligations that come with it. Next month when we gather for our Congregational annual meeting you will have a vote. I hope you will be here and vote. I hope you will continue to explore your ministries that you have already begun to express through music, through service, through your creativity and lively intelligence. You are an inspiration for all of us to renew our commitments and join together in making God’s love real, here and now, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
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If after my removal anyone should think
it worth while to write my life, I will give you a criterion by which you
may judge of its correctness. If he gives me credit for being a plodder he
will describe me justly. Anything beyond this will be too much. I can
plod. That is my only genius. I can persevere in any pursuit. To this I
owe everything.
Scripture Lessons The Song of Simeon Happy New Year everybody. You may have heard that according to Nostradamus, the sixteenth century apothecary predicted that this is the year the world is supposed to come to an end, but not until December. Some believe that prediction is borne out by the ancient pre-Columbian Mayan calendar. Carved in stone, it schedules the end of the world for December 21, 2012. Of course, you might recall that The Rapture was scheduled on two separate dates in year 2011. Both dates came and went, and if either was the correct date, we all got left behind. But rather than fret about when the world will end, I believe New Year’s Day is better spent reflecting on the lessons of the past and looking to the year ahead as we resolve to do our best. One familiar emblem of New Year’s Eve is the New Year arriving as a newborn baby and the previous year departing as a weary old man with a long beard, a scythe and an hourglass. That image occurred to me when I read the Gospel Lesson with the story of the presentation at the Temple. The infant Jesus was brought to be circumcised eight days after he was born, as all Jewish males are required. There the old man Simeon saw the child, and recognized him as God’s promised messiah. Luke tells us that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that he “…would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.” (Luke 2:26) At the sight of the baby Jesus, he knew that God’s promise had been fulfilled. There are a number of things going on in this passage. It began with Jesus’ briss, showing that Jesus began his life in an observant Jewish family. They had Jesus circumcised at the proper time of eight days after his birth. Once they had been “purified” which probably refers to Mary going to the mikvah, a ritual bath, following child birth. It may well have meant that both Mary and Joseph needed to go to the mikvah to purify themselves just to go to the Temple. When I went up to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem in 2005, where the Dome of the Rock and al Acsa Mosque now stand, the Orthodox Jews in our group went to the mikvah the day before the field trip. Mary and Joseph had come to dedicate Jesus as required by the Torah of a first born son. This is what Luke referred to as “Law of Moses.” To do this they made an offering of two pigeons. All by itself, this offering demonstrates how poor Mary and Joseph were. The book of Leviticus provides an accommodation for families who could not afford to offer a lamb; they made a more modest offering of two turtledoves or two pigeons. Simeon must have been an extraordinary man. Luke describes him as a “…man righteous and devout looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him.” (Luke 2:25) You have to imagine that for Simeon, this must have been a fairly ordinary day. The Temple was the holiest place in the world for Jews in Jesus’ time, as the site still is for Jews today. Jews from all over Israel and all over the world made pilgrimage there, as they do today. How many poor young families had Simeon seen coming to dedicate a first-burn son in his many years of serving at the Temple? How many such families had he seen that day? And yet, he recognized something in that child that moved him to song. The Song of Simeon may have sounded familiar to you as Andy read it to us a moment ago. It is often used in Christian funeral services. "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples.” (Luke 2:29-31) We often say it in unison at memorial services here at Second Church. The way we use it, it is an act of explicitly letting go of the deceased, of releasing them to God’s eternal care (as if we had a choice). Of course, Simeon was the one letting go in the Gospel Lesson. He was prepared for the end or his life. He was at peace, confident that the world was in God’s hands, having seen the Christ child. In a sense, we see two holy men passing in the wings at the edge of the stage of history. One had performed his role, the other was just entering. I like to think of this as biblical precedent for intergenerational worship. We look on as a new generation inspired the old one, even as the elder recognized and authorized the infant Jesus and proclaimed his theological, historical and cultural context and significance. We should notice that Simeon did not simply fade from the scene. Simeon made a fairly grand exit. He was in full command of his faculties and at the epicenter of his faith community as he announced the cosmic drama unfolding. In fact, between the baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Simeon we see models of various stages of religious live, from cradle to grave. We see a baby and three adults at various stages of life. In this scene, Simeon is sharp, attentive to the significance of the moment and the movements of the Spirit. They are joined together, all of them in a participatory act of dedication. As we look to the year ahead, may we each be so engaged, and so dedicated and so attentive (whatever the season of life we find ourselves) to God and to one other, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
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Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24 Judgment Day Every Day The idea that human beings are destined to stand before God and answer for the actions of our mortal lives has been part of Christian theology since the earliest days of the church. The idea of accountability before God is a recurrent theme in the Parables of Jesus as in today’s Gospel Lesson. God’s judgment is certainly prominent in the Hebrew Bible, and the concept is definitely found in the Qur’an as well. Some of the greatest poets in history have explored God’s judgment and its consequences: Blake, Dante and Milton have written brilliantly on the nature of ultimate justice. There are good reasons to be uncomfortable with the idea of the Last Judgment. Eschatology has been popularized in ways that range from unsettling to thoroughly amusing. The Left Behind series of books offers a vivid portrayal of the pseudo-biblical construct of “the rapture.” That series has sold millions of books. Their central theology seems aimed at scaring people into embracing Christianity. We are to choose between rescue or abandonment by siding with the right team. That is nothing new. Last Judgment and the afterlife have been the recurrent subject of paintings and films. These often portray God’s judgment in the most literal terms with pearly gates, a big book, flaming torment and fluffy clouded heavenly reward. This imagery is so ingrained into the popular imagination that not a week passes that you would not find the familiar motifs of Heaven and Hell in a comic strip, New Yorker cartoon, or a television commercial. You may recall that after Steve Jobs died, the cover of The New Yorker showed St. Peter checking the Book of Life in his iPad. Some important things get lost when our musings on God’s judgment fixate on what the world to come will be like. Those imaginings of the afterlife tend to overlook the metaphorical way scripture talks about judgment and eternal life. In the reading from Ezekiel, the prophet spoke about justice and redemption in this life. Ezekiel mixed pastoral imagery with the international political realities and military threats of his day. He referred to God as a shepherd and the people of Israel as a flock. We are familiar with this metaphor. We are probably most familiar with the 23rd Psalm which declares at the outset, “The Lord is my Shepherd…” The same term was used by other ancient near eastern religions as well. The Babylonian god Marduk was described as a shepherd of lesser gods, and ancient Egyptian hymns referred to their deities as herdsmen. Because the metaphor is not unique to our faith tradition, we need to look deeper to see why Ezekiel described God as a shepherd. The New Interpreter’s Bible suggests that the idea of a divine shepherd is set in stark contrast to the less than faithful leadership of human kings. Among the flock, the prophet contrasts the powerful and wealthy with the wounded, scattered and beleaguered. Through this multi-layered metaphor, we see that the business end of judgment is directed at a privileged and wealthy minority who are indifferent to suffering in the wider community. The Gospel Lesson begins with a similar pastoral metaphor. Speaking in parable, Jesus described separating sheep from goats: "When the Son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate them one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will place the sheep at his right hand, but the goats at the left.” (Matthew 25:31-33) This passage mixes cosmic apocalyptic imagery of the Son of Man enthroned with the familiar pastoral imagery of a shepherd. Notice that it says, gathered before the Son of Man will be “all the nations.” That really caught my eye. This suggests that we are judged collectively as nations. In our therapeutic culture we tend to think of being judged as individuals if we think of being judged at all. But individuals’ behavior can be very different in groups. Are we to be judged for the actions of our nation? That may or may not be the case. What is clear is that judgment is undeniably based on how we live out our responsibility to one another. I think it is safe to say that the nations are gathered in judgment because compassion is expected of us on a global scale. Does Jesus’ parable even suggest that we will be ultimately judged over what we believe or what we do? According to this parable, those judged most virtuous are the ones who acted compassionately. To them Jesus said, “…inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” (Matthew 25:34-36) The criterion does not seem doctrinal! Because we are judged by what we do, what and how we believe does make a difference. I would guess that most of us would behave somewhat differently if we believed in a god that demanded we throw virgins into a volcano, rather than a in God whose son lived and died, taught and healed among us. It makes a difference whether we feel our faith is personal and individual or whether we believe faith is about relationships and lived out in community. Jesus taught that what we do to and for the people with whom we share this life, we do to and for God. This is consistent with the very first chapter of Genesis: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27) We are created in the image of God, and so is everybody else. We serve God by serving one another. This week as we give thanks for God’s abundant generosity, we can give thanks that God has given us to one another. Thanks be to God. So getting back to this whole notion of judgment, I believe in my heart that it is real. Scripture uses varied symbolic and metaphorical language to describe it. But the fact remains that divine judgment appears consistently throughout the Bible. It is worth noticing, too, that in the biblical concept of judgment, God alone is the judge. Only God is allowed to be judgmental. We are not. We should also remember that God’s steadfast love and compassion appear throughout the scripture. For me, the most useful way to think about judgment is that everything I do and say is done and said in the sight of God. Though I experience my life trapped in a limited and subjective perspective, with all the temptations and selfishness that come with that, I am perceived by the One who created me, every minute of every day. I do not mean that in the sense that some divine security camera is monitoring me around the clock, but in the sense that I am created by and in the image of the One who perceives me in every moment. Every day is judgment day. God perceives us with love, and we perceive the divine presence because we were created with compassion, conscience and love. When we are moved by compassion to serve others in need and to work for justice, we know God’s presence and we can feel God’s pleasure. The impulse to compassion is a spark of the divine image in which we are created. We know divine judgment when we look upon suffering or injustice and choose not to act. We know right from wrong. We also know that none of us always wants or does what is right. That is why what we believe matters. We must reach beyond our individual selves. We need the wisdom and the guidance of scripture and we need each other to understand and live it out together. Thanks be to God who gives us the Word and gives us to each other, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC The greatest among you will be your servant. Matthew 23:11
Scripture Lesson The True Nature of Discipleship Our gospel story today, like all scripture, comes from a specific time and a place, and therefore has a specific context that we should be aware of. When we don’t look at the context, it is very easy to misunderstand the meaning or to misuse the text. Context is crucial to gaining the truest meaning we can. Here in this specific passage, it is important to remember that this scripture comes from a time and area of predominantly Jewish culture. Jesus was a Jew living in a Jewish setting. So when he criticizes in the beginning of this reading, he is not criticizing Judaism, or the office of the scribes and Pharisees themselves even, but he is criticizing their actions. Thomas Long considers this argument seen here to be more like a family feud, an internal affair. Long says, “When Jesus excoriates the Jewish leaders, he does so as a Jew, as a prophet like Isaiah or Jeremiah, whose strong words denouncing Israel are spoken from within.” Jesus actually starts this pericope with an affirmation of the Pharisees’ authority – he says “The scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat; therefore do whatever they teach you and follow it.” He affirms that their place of authority is valid and that their teachings are worth following. His real critique is of the way they act. Like we have heard many times before, the phrase applies, they talk the talk but they don’t walk the walk. The very next line of what Jesus says is “but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach.” Instead of acting as they teach others to act, they have become prideful, and according to Long, have even made their religious items more like fashion statements. Jesus says in the scripture, they have made their “phylacteries broad and their fringes long.” For those who do not know, the “phylacteries” mentioned in the passage are a set of small black leather boxes containing scrolls of parchment inscribed with verses from the Torah – they are worn, one on the upper arm – with a strap wrapped around the arm, hand and fingers, and one above the forehead. The Torah commands that they should be worn to serve as a "sign" and "remembrance" that God brought the children of Israel out of Egypt. And also similarly, the Fringes are a part of a garment that is worn as a reminder of God’s commandments or Mitzvot. Here in this passage, Long says, “The true purpose of these phylacteries and fringes was to keep the faithful ever mindful of the laws of God, to assist the worshiper in prayer, but, according to Jesus, the scribes and Pharisees had turned them into fashion statements.” Long even says, “[This is] Like a contemporary Christian wearing a 2 pound cross or sporting a bumper sticker on the car reading “My God is alive, sorry about yours” – these are extreme examples, but examples nonetheless, and the question can be raised: is this faithful or is it just flashy, is this praise or [pageantry]?” Is it serving as an act of faithfulness, or an act of showiness? Suddenly this reading comes reeling forward in time and challenges us as contemporary Christians to examine our own consciences. Are we faithful and humble in our lives today? For some people humility comes naturally, but for most of the rest of us, it does not. We are constantly tempted to be prideful and society exalts that urge in us. We live in a culture that puts great stock in pride and does not encourage humility. M. Eugene Boring suggests that “Matthew is proposing an alternate world, a world seen from the perspective of the kingdom of God, an alternative family where the approval of God removes the heavy yoke of self-justification.” In this passage, Jesus is creating a space where we can be permitted to release the burden society puts on us to measure our self-worth, and to instead begin to truly serve one another. But even in the space of the kingdom Jesus is introducing, as human beings, I think we still have to be mindful and really work at humbleness. I am not sure humility is in our nature, or maybe more aptly put, it alone is not our whole nature. The question of nature is an age-old question – many have attempted the answer. Augustine would say that our nature is to have disordered desires, and so we would need God’s help to make humility a primary desire for ourselves. Pelagius would say that our human nature is made evident in our ability to and struggle with making choices, and therefore with God’s help, humility would be a right choice to be made. This struggle with our nature is also made clear by this Cherokee tale: One evening an old Cherokee chief told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves. One is evil – it is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, arrogance, false pride, resentment and lies. The other is good – it is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, generosity, truth and compassion.” The grandson thought about this for a minute and asked, “Grandfather, which wolf wins?” The old Cherokee chief simply replied, “The one you feed.” There are parts in us that we can feed and make greater than other parts – it is simply up to us which we choose to foster. It is the side that you choose to tend to and nurture that wins out. Jesus himself seems to acknowledge the ability to choose to foster the good or not – he says, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.” You may choose to humble or exalt yourself. For this scripture passage, I think the phrasing of the Message translation of the Bible has a wonderful image to offer as well – it says, “Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant. If you puff yourself up, the wind will be knocked out of you. But if you are content to simply be yourself, your life will count for plenty.” Jesus challenges us to dare to go against the grain of society; to humble ourselves and serve each other in the kingdom he offers; to feed our good side of our being, and foster humility and love for others. It is not always an easy task, but a necessary one, and one that will one day be exalted. What would our world look like if we all stepped down from our self-serving pedestals and began serving one another; stranger, friend, brother, sister? Someone once told me – “Christians fundamentally don’t look different, but they could. What would we look like if we embraced the nature of generosity? We would not be always clinging to our own needs. It would be like being loved faithfully without end from the very beginning – and if you could really know that kind of love that was constant and sure, maybe you could start to love that way too. You could begin to unclench your fists and love that way too.” Imagine the chain reaction that humility and love could beget. Imagine the change we would see in the world. So I challenge you today, to go out in the world, serving others as Jesus served. Embrace the choice of humility, and begin loving others as sisters and brothers, loving your enemies, and loving your neighbor as yourself. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC The kind of enduring and all-embracing loving relationship in which we need both the ‘now already’ and the ‘not yet’ must be paralleled by the relationship between the church and the kingdom of God. ―Dorothee Soelle Thinking about God: An Introduction to Theology
Scripture Lessons Dreams and Visions The passage from Deuteronomy is the very last reading in the Torah. The book of Deuteronomy itself is written as a kind of farewell address by Moses, before the Israelites crossed the Jordan to enter the Promised Land. This is the end of Moses’ life. He had come a long way. Though the Torah is often called the Five Books of Moses, Moses does not even show up until the second book in Exodus. As a baby, Moses was rescued from Egyptian ethnic cleansing by his sister Miriam, who placed him in a basket in the Nile, near where the Pharaoh’s daughter was bathing. She took him in and raised Moses in the Pharaoh’s household. As a young man Moses was forced to leave the good life in the palace when he struck and killed an Egyptian slave driver who was beating a Hebrew slave. After he fled to Midean, he married the daughter of Jethro, the priest there. While tending his father-in-law’s flocks, he met God in a burning bush. God called Moses to be a prophet and demand that Pharaoh let his people go. When Pharaoh refused, Moses announced that God would bring plague after plague on the Egyptians. Pharaoh did not set the Israelites free until after the final plague, when the firstborn of every household in Egypt was to be struck dead, unless they had marked the doorframe of their house with lamb’s blood. After the Pharaoh’s own son died in the final plague, he relented, and let the Israelite’s go. But as they left, Pharaoh had a final change of heart, and pursued them with his army, and caught up with them at the edge of the sea. God told Moses to stretch out his staff over the waters and God parted the sea so that the Israelites could escape. When the Egyptians followed them into the sea, God closed the waters over them and the army was drowned. When the Israelites saw that the army had been destroyed, and that they were safe, they broke into song. Our Confirmation Class took a field trip to Temple Shalom yesterday. They heard that song sung in Hebrew at the morning prayer service. There is an old rabbinic legend about that moment, which is not in the Bible. They say that upon hearing the Israelites singing and celebrating, God rebuked them saying, “They were my children, too.” Once Moses had led the Israelites from slavery to freedom, he was with them in the wilderness wandering for forty years. There’s an old joke that says this is how we know we know Moses was not a woman. A woman would have gotten to the Promised Land much sooner, because she would have asked for directions. Other commentators suggest that the Israelites needed that time to get accustomed to their freedom, to learn how not to be slaves. In their wanderings they endured all manner of dangers, triumphs, good, bad, ugly and everything in between. They faced thirst, hunger, attack by hostile tribes and their own fears and anxieties. Like every human community, in the wilderness, they could prove to be their own worst enemies. Even as God was giving the commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, the Israelites were making and worshipping a golden calf in their camp below. On this Stewardship Sunday, it is worth remembering that there were two significant and very different offerings made by the Israelites in the wilderness. One was for making the Golden Calf. When the people became anxious that Moses was away on Mount Sinai, unsure when or if he would come back, they asked Aaron to make them a god. By this they meant an idol, like they had known the Egyptians to worship. In their ignorance and fear, they turned to imitate the practices of the very same people who had enslaved them. “The people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, ‘Come, make gods for us who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.’” (Exodus 32:1) So Aaron told them to bring him their gold jewelry and he made them an idol. They immediately began to worship it. The other offering was one that God asked them to take, for a project God had asked them to carry out. That was for the building of the Ark of the Covenant and the Tent of Meeting. “And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Tell the Israelites to take for me an offering from all whose hearts prompt them to give...’” (Exodus 25:1) Already, this offering is very different from the one that led to the Golden Calf. It is not a desperate offering made out of fear, but the promptings of their hearts. And though the Ark of the Covenant would be covered and decorated with gold, it was not an object of worship. It was not a “god box.” It was a constant reminder of their relationship with God. It was to contain the tablets on which Moses had recorded the commandments. The offering would also provide for the Tent of Meeting, where the community could gather for worship. In our Gospel Lesson this morning, a Pharisee asked Jesus “…which commandment in the Law is the greatest?” (Matthew 22:36) Characteristically, Jesus answered the question, but in his own way. When asked which was the greatest, he gave two: love God with all your heart mind and strength and love your neighbor your neighbor as yourself.” He was quoting one commandment from Deuteronomy and one from Leviticus. In essence, Jesus’ answer to the Pharisee echoed the offering that provided for the building of the Ark of the Covenant and the Tent of Meeting: a place for a community to gather, worship God, and together discover what God expected from them and how they should live together. It gave them focus and purpose and it bound them together. And yet, after going through all of this, after bearing the complaining and squabbling of an entire nation, after facing down the most powerful leader in the region and beating the odds, remaining faithful to God based on a promise made to their ancestors they barely remembered through generations of slavery. After all he had been through, Moses would not even set foot in the land that they had been promised. He only got to get a glimpse of the Promised Land from Mount Nebo in what is now known as Jordan. On this day when we dedicate our pledges here in our sanctuary, the Lectionary once again provides us with just what we need, a vision we need to take in and contemplate. It is fascinating that the Torah ends with a man looking off into the distance, to what is ahead. This is, incidentally, the mountaintop Martin Luther King Jr. was referring to when he gave his famous “Mountaintop” speech in Memphis the night before he was assassinated. “I may not get there with you,” he told his audience, “but I have seen the Promised Land.” As we dedicate our pledges, as we dedicate ourselves, let’s think about all we have been through together, all those who have come before us, and what lies ahead for us. We have to keep faith with those who led us here, and honor their memory. But we cannot worship the past. You’ll notice that the Israelites did not build a shrine to Moses or carry his bones with them. They did not even mark his grave. We must move forward. We need not stumble around the wilderness. We have a calling, to be the Body of Christ in the world. What does God want from us? What are our dreams and our visions? How will we live out our love of God and our love of our neighbors in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC Grace is love that cares and stoops and rescues. ―John Stott
Scripture Lessons The things that are God’s The night before last, I had a fabulous religious experience. Samantha, Tracy and I were here in the sanctuary with the Confirmation Class right around midnight. It was the night of our class’s second mini-retreat, and we all spent the night together here at the church. We camped inside in sleeping bags in the living room and the library. We played some games, watched a movie, ate snacks, talked a lot and even slept a little. After the movie was over, we came up to the sanctuary. It was dark, and I only turned on the lights here in the chancel. Most of the class sat in the deacons’ seats, the ones in front of the choir pews with different apostles carved into them. We brought up a table and a few of the choir chairs from Fuller Chapel. We arranged ourselves around it in a loose circle and began our midnight Communion service. I don’t know if you have ever been in here after dark. Perhaps you have attended a Christmas Eve Candlelight service or a Good Friday Tennebrae. This sanctuary is beautiful any time, but at night it takes on special qualities. With only ten of us in this enormous sanctuary, the acoustics gave our conversation and our prayers a certain resonant awe-inspiring quality. That is what spaces like this are supposed to do, and this one does it well. The street lights and spotlights outside gave the stained glass a twinkling, jewel-like quality from the scarce light filtering through the windows. In our Communion service we read the same Gospel Lesson that Mary Beth did a moment ago. After one of the Confirmands read the lesson, we discussed it together. Without any prompting, they zeroed right in on Jesus’ statement about giving to the emperor what is the emperor’s and giving to God what is God’s. One Confirmand remarked that the emperor made the coins and God made us and everything we have. So the implication, they noted, was that we are supposed to give to God by the way we live our lives and from what God has given us. I cannot adequately express how deeply gratifying Friday night was for me. I feel privileged to have been able to share that night with such amazing young people. They have received grace upon grace from God as they have grown up in our church. They also bring a lot to the table. God is doing great things in them, with them and through them. We are blessed to have them in our church. At our best, Second Church has been the village that every child needs growing up. Now they are preparing to assume more responsibility in our congregation as they become full members of Second Church on Confirmation Sunday this coming January. But their preparation did not begin with Confirmation Class. It did not even begin with Sunday School, as important as it is. I think religious education begins at the dinner table for most of us. Think about it. For most Protestants, it is the primary form of worship we bring into the home and practice as families, when we say grace before we begin a meal. I have Roman Catholic friends who grew up saying the Rosary at home together as a family. Think of the Passover Seder, the ritual meal commemorating the Israelites’ liberation from bondage in Egypt. The meal is generally held at home with family and friends, with foods that symbolize the sacred narrative of God’s bondage and liberation. Christians believe it was a Passover meal Jesus shared with his disciples that we know as the Last Supper. We recall and reenact that meal in Holy Communion. We usually experience the Eucharist in the sanctuary, but it can be celebrated anywhere. The home itself should be a sanctuary. The family is a congregation at the most basic level. The Church, this church and the wider Church throughout the world is one great extended family of faith, and part of the whole human family. We are called to be in the world, but not of it. Christianity is, at its core, an alternative lifestyle. There is and should be a dynamic interrelationship between the individual, the family, the church and the whole world. We all rely on one another. We all bless one another. This is how we are made, in the image and likeness of God. God made humanity to complete creation and be stewards of it. God made us for relationships with each other and relationships with God. Look at the full biblical narrative. In the first creation story in Genesis, God created us male and female. In the story immediately following, God said that in was not good that the human should be alone, and so created a partner. As the Bible progressed, God called Abraham and his descendants into a covenantal relationship. God gave us the commandments to guide us. When the Israelites kept getting into trouble, God called prophets to speak to the people so that they could know God’s Word in terms we could understand, and receive comfort at times of disaster and affliction. The full biblical record shows our God seeking ever closer relationship with humanity across the centuries. As Christians we believe that this reached its pinnacle in Jesus Christ, when God became human and lived and died with us, like us, teaching us and healing us and calling us to go and do likewise. There. I have boiled the Bible down to one paragraph. But that’s not so impressive. Jesus did it in two verses: Love God with all you’ve got (heart, mind and strength), and love your neighbor as yourself. But Jesus’ life and ministry were only the beginning. We are now the Body of Christ in the world. We are part of a mystical communion, a living reality throughout the world, called together by love and called to love, which the world needs more than ever. The world needs us and we need the church, more than ever. I imagine most of us have seen the news. What started about a month ago as a 100 member protest in the financial district in Manhattan has spread to over 100 cities across the country and is cropping up around the world. I do not want to get into the politics of it, which is hard. But I managed to deal with our Gospel Lesson without bringing up tax policy. Besides, whatever your politics or economic theory, as Christians we need to look at this volatile moment and recognize the humanity driving the whole thing. People are afraid. They are desperate and angry. They need hope. And we have to recognize the humanity on both sides of this divide. At this difficult moment in history, we all are needed to pull together, give of ourselves and lift up a vision which speaks of a 100% solution. It is not about being right, it is about being righteous. That is what we are here for. That is what the church does at its best. We work together, using the language of the heart to make our lives meaningful by serving others. A church is a place where high purpose and sacred commitments empower us to learn from our differences rather than let them to divide us. I heard an interesting statistic recently. Do you know how many people in the United States are committed members of a house of worship or religious community? The number surprised me, at 25%. That is across all faiths. In New England the number is closer to 17%. You could look at that number and despair. Say it is time to hang it up. Our faith traditions are in a death spiral. I choose to think those numbers speak of how badly we are needed. You could look at those numbers and say that 83% of New Englanders need a religious community. Two shoe salesmen landed on a foreign shore and saw all the locals walking around barefoot. One salesman took the first boat he could get home, shaking his head, saying “Nobody here even wears shoes.” The other salesman stayed; amazed that everyone he saw needed shoes. We have a lot to offer. It goes well beyond our magnificent sanctuary, fabulous music, inspiring worship, and warm, hospitable congregation. Those are great things, but they are the beginning. Lives are changed here. Faith is formed and lived out. We have for more than two centuries served the community of Newton and beyond in ways that might surprise you. But that rich heritage needs to be lived out now in the present so that we have a future. Most of you probably know that we have been running a deficit for two years. But that is because we take our mission and responsibilities seriously (not that we don’t have to take the numbers seriously). We love our building and we have a responsibility to keep it in good repair. The spire needs work so that we can protect the organ from incoming rain, and we need to repair the organ from the most recent rain damage. We have made a commitment to youth ministry and Christian education, and it shows. But we have to staff them sufficiently to support our excellent programming, and there is more we should and can do. We are all needed to make it happen. We all have to give our time, our many talents, and frankly our money. All three. And if we all dig deep and give from what God has given us, you will be amazed by what we can do, by the grace of God, in a world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
The Second Church in
Newton, UCC Faith and prejudice have a common need to rely on authority and in this they can sometimes be confused by one who does not understand their true nature. But faith rests on the authority of love while prejudice rests on the pseudo-authority of hatred. Everyone who has read the gospel realizes that in order to be a Christian one must give up being a fanatic, because Christianity is love. Love and fanaticism are incompatible. ―Thomas Merton, The Power and Meaning of Love
Scripture Lessons Maybe it’s because the presidential race is warming up, but I cannot help but think about contemporary “gotcha” politics when I hear this exchange between Jesus and the temple priests. The priests were disturbed by the arrival of a rural teacher who had created a sensation in the countryside. He had come with his disciples to Jerusalem and a large crowd of followers lined the streets to cheer them on. Though we are reading this passage in September, the event occurred during Holy Week. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, both eminent New Testament scholars and old friends have co-written a book called The Last Week, in which they bring their considerable knowledge to bear on the events of Holy Week. Borg and Crossan say that on the day we have come to call Palm Sunday, there would have been two noteworthy processions entering the City of Jerusalem as the city and everyone there braced themselves for the influx of pilgrims who flooded the city every year at Passover. At about the time Jesus and his disciples came over the Mount of Olives and crossed the Kidron Valley to enter at the Lions Gate, the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate was entering another gate on the other side of the city. Borg and Crossan write, “Pilate’s military procession was a demonstration of both Roman imperial power and Roman imperial theology. Though unfamiliar to most people today, the imperial procession was well known in the Jewish homeland in the first century…It was standard practice of the Roman governors of Judea to be in Jerusalem for the major Jewish festivals. They did so not out of empathetic reverence for the devotion of their Jewish subjects, but to be in the city in case there was trouble.” Winding through the narrow streets on the opposite end of the city, Jesus’ raucous parade of disciples, adoring followers and curious onlookers was meant in part as a parody of Pilate’s show of force. While Pilate came into the city mounted on a prize steed, with armored troops marching in disciplined lockstep, Jesus rode a little, donkey colt, followed by fishermen, carpenters and peasants waving palm branches, carpeting his way with their own cloaks. Neither spectacle would have escaped the notice of the temple priests. They were caught in the middle between two displays of political theatre. You can sense the priests’ precarious political situation and the anxiety it triggered when they huddle for an impromptu strategy session. The Romans did not trust the priests, but they served their purposes because they held authority over the most sacred place in Judaism, the Temple in Jerusalem. That gave them a certain amount of sway over the Jews living in Judea, who generally resented being occupied by foreign gentile idolaters. At the same time, the people did not trust the priests either. They knew them as corrupt and exploitive. They were collaborators, in bed with the Romans. No priest (especially high priests) could serve at the temple without the approval of the Roman authorities. They built the Antonia Fortress right next to the Temple to keep an eye on things and remind everyone who had the upper hand. The garrison was situated over the cistern that supplied water to the temple. The Romans were in control and everyone knew it, especially the priests. Usually, the High Priest did not last very long in the office. Caiaphas, who was High Priest at the time, had an unusually long tenure for that period. He was keenly aware of the potential difficulties that could arise when a popular country rabbi turned up at the same time Pilate arrived with extra troops to keep a lid on the Passover festivities. When the priests asked Jesus “By what authority are you doing these things?” (Matthew 21:23b) they were trying to set Jesus up. They had heard excited talk about Jesus being God’s anointed Messiah, the heir to King David’s throne. There was talk about Jesus being the son of God, that he prayed to God as Abba, Aramaic for “daddy.” If they could get Jesus to make either one of these claims in public, the Romans would solve the problem for the priests. After all, “Son of God” was a title for the Emperor of Rome. Pilate could not and would not stand by as a popular folk hero made such a claim. Jesus, always quick on his feet, made a brilliant political maneuver by answering their question with a question of his own. He said that he would tell him the source of his authority, if they would say whether John’s Baptism came from Heaven of from human authority. The priests knew he had them. They admitted it among themselves. "If we say, 'From heaven,' he will say to us, 'Why then did you not believe him?' But if we say, 'Of human origin', we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet." (Matthew 21:25b-26) So knowing that they had been snookered, the priests basically looked at their feet, kicked the dust and mumbled, “I dunno.” Jesus then said, basically, “I guess I’m not answering your question either.” Immediately after this exchange, Jesus told a parable that demonstrated his understanding of the basic ambiguity and complexity of life. He told of a father with two sons. The father told one son to go and tend his vineyard. The son refused. But afterward, that same son went to the vineyard and set to work anyway. In the meantime, the father asked the other son to work in the vineyard. That other son told his father that he would, but never went to the vineyard. Jesus asked, “Which of the two did the will of his father?” (Matthew 21:31a) This parable reminded me of one of the Ten Commandments of Simply Smiles, which is “Under promise, over deliver.” Many of you may know that I spent a week in the Mexican state of Oaxaca in August, working with Simply Smiles. Half the week was spent in Oaxaca City at their center of operations, and half the week we were in the jungle further south in the Zapatec village of Santa Maria Tepexipana. The commandment to under promise and over deliver is meant to build the confidence of the people they serve. I asked my friend Pete Allen, whom you may remember came last year to preach and give a presentation on Simply Smiles, to email me their Ten Commandments so that I could be sure to get them right. The full list is: 1. The need always trumps the obstacles. 2. A high standard of excellence in all we do. 3. Preserve and build dignity. 4. Perception matters. 5. We are all ambassadors. 6. Safety is the determining factor. 7. Always explain why. 8. No busy work ever. 9. No one is above any task or person. 10. Under promise, over deliver. When Pete sent me the list he added, “We also emphasize entering into every situation with humility, with a priority on listening, and with a commitment to building trusting relationships first.” That last note explains “under promise and over deliver,” because it is hard to build trusting relationships when there is no follow through. The priority placed on listening helps to avoid a trap that many aid organizations have fallen into in the past, which is telling people what they need rather than asking. They also have an “Unofficial 11th commandment: Always have fun!” I have never in my life seen people have so much fun digging a trench and laying pipe. I think part of it was the novelty. But I think it was also moving out of one’s comfort zone with a shared sense of purpose and camaraderie. There is nothing like doing something that you know is going to make a real difference to real peoples’ lives. When we approached Santa Maria Tepexipana, children shouted “Gringos!”* It was said affectionately, by the way. They would smile and point as our two vans and truck drove by. They would come to our campsite and play and hang out with us. After dinner one night, a five year old climbed into my lap and talked non-stop for about an hour. With my toddler Spanish and no Zapatec at all, I did not get much of what he said. But it didn’t matter. As he sat in my lap I let him play with my flashlight, and that was cool with him. The staff and interns clearly had built friendships with the kids and their parents. The interns knew local family histories and the village gossip. Though we were prepared to be self-sufficient, women in the village frequently came to our campsite bringing coffee and home-made treats like tamales and arros con leche, a rich sweet drink made from milk and rice. Another Second Church member, Lissa Gilbert, went down there to volunteer two weeks before I did. She and I would be happy to tell you more, and I hope there will be an opportunity for us to share photographs of our experiences there. I also hope our church can lead a group from Newton down there next summer for an intergenerational mission trip. It takes a minimum of fifteen and a maximum of twenty-five volunteers to form a group. What I love about it is that it would provide new opportunities to do what I hope we do every day as a church, which is to build relationships near and far, and change lives, in a world without end. Amen. *The best explanation of the origin of the term is that during the Mexican-American War (1846-48) Marines would sing Green Grow the Rushes as a marching song. From that song arose the Mexican slang term for people from the U.S. Bruce Macdonald told me this after I delivered the sermon.
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Newton, UCC Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendour, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the Angel’s hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty: believe me, that angel’s hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing Presence. Our joys, too: be not content with them as joys, they too conceal diviner gifts. Life is so full of meaning and of purpose, so full of beauty—beneath its covering—that you will find that earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage, then to claim it: that is all! But courage you have; and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through unknown country, home. ―Fra Giovanni Giocondo (c.1435–1515)
Scripture Lessons Biblical Proportions I am incredibly grateful to be here with all of you on this day of intensely mixed emotions. This is the time of year when fresh school supplies, new teachers and the start of the academic year offer hope and inspire ambitions to achieve. We cannot help wanting such achievement for our kids and we hope our kids will want it for themselves. It was Oscar’s very first day at Second Church Nursery School when the attacks of 9/11 occurred, the day two of the doomed flights departed Logan Airport just down the Mass Pike from us. We all remember how that bright Tuesday morning suddenly turned into a tragedy of biblical proportions. I know that is a cliché, but I think it fits in this case. In one sinister plot, three thousand human beings lost their lives, the Pentagon was severely damaged and the jewel of the New York skyline was reduced to rubble. Hundreds of rescue workers who picked through the wreckage of Ground Zero to locate survivors suffered life altering health conditions from breathing the dust that lingered in the air for days. If that was not a tragedy of biblical proportions, I don’t know what is. For many, 9/11 was a profound challenge to their faith. How could a good and just God allow it to happen? For others, the fact that the terrorists were religious fanatics was simply more proof that religion itself was the problem. Others did not go so far, but blamed Islam. Even now, ten years later I won’t insult your intelligence by offering simple answers. I don’t think there are any. I do recall, though, during the weeks that followed, I was comforted and inspired by the spot-on tone of the scripture lessons from the Revised Common Lectionary. The lectionary is the schedule of Bible readings prescribed for worship on a three year cycle. I particularly recall Jeremiah crying out from a city under siege and lamenting over the destruction of Jerusalem. The situations were not identical, but the emotions were familiar enough and the words seemed to hit us where were living in that moment of history. That’s the way I felt when I read this morning’s reading from Genesis. The faith that Joseph demonstrated when he forgave his brothers was breathtaking. If anyone had cause to hold a grudge it was Joseph. The only compassion his brothers had shown him was to sell Joseph into slavery instead of killing him. But they still told their father, Jacob, that Joseph was dead. When the old rascal died, the brothers were scared to death. They could not guess what Joseph would do to them without their father to protect them. Joseph had become a rich and powerful man, in charge of the Pharaoh’s whole household. So they concocted yet another story, claiming their father’s protection from beyond the grave. They essentially said, “Dad said you can’t touch us.” It was feeble, but it was all they had. They were at Joseph’s mercy and they knew it. But, more than anything, Joseph was hurt by their fear of him. “Joseph wept when they spoke to him. Then his brothers also wept, fell down before him, and said, ‘we are here as your slaves.’ But Joseph said to them, ‘Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…’” (Genesis 50:19-20a) The reason I see this is an extraordinary display of faith is because he had no reason to trust his brothers. It would probably be a long time before he trusted them again, if he ever did. But Joseph’s continued faith in God amazes me. If you know the story, after Joseph was sold into slavery his master’s wife took a shine to him. But Joseph rejected her advances and was thrown in jail. This had to be a tremendous crisis of faith for Joseph. He must have wondered why God had not protected him when he had done the righteous and honorable thing. And yet, when Joseph’s fortunes were restored and his brothers were in fear of him, he asked, “Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…” (Genesis 50:19b-20a) Though Joseph momentarily held godlike powers over his brothers, he reserved judgment. Joseph did not exact revenge. He remained humble in the sight of God. He proclaimed his faith in God’s redeeming grace. “Even though you intended to do me harm, God intended it for good.” As Christians, we place high moral and spiritual value on forgiveness. It was the focus of all three of the scripture lessons Katie read a moment ago. As we remember the horrendous attacks ten years ago this morning, forgiveness is difficult to contemplate. For some it is unthinkable. There is an important difference (among many others) between Joseph’s brothers and the 9/11 hijackers. Joseph’s brothers confessed their offenses and asked for forgiveness. The hijackers are dead. They killed themselves in the attack, so it is a moot point. And defending ourselves against al Qaeda was and is the right thing to do. Last week I heard the widow of a man killed on 9/11 talking on the radio about how her son (only five at the time) was beginning to make sense of the event. She said her son was particularly disturbed when people had gone to Ground Zero and partied all night when they heard the news that Osama bin Laden had been killed by a team of Navy Seals. He asked his mother, “Doesn’t that make us like them?” Documents captured at the scene in Pakistan showed bin Laden spent time every day contemplating new ways of attacking the United States. There is no question in my mind that it was a correct course of action. But celebrating the death of even an evil man seems shameful. The action was right, but celebrating it was not righteous. Don’t get me wrong. I am relieved we can observe this anniversary knowing al Qaeda’s capabilities are significantly diminished and Osama bin Laden is no longer fanning the flames of hatred or plotting violence against anyone. We are free to focus our attention on the victims, survivors and heroes of that day ten years ago. Though that day was among the worst in our history, certainly the worst I have lived through, it brought out the absolute best in so many people. Many who died at the World Trade Center lost their lives trying to save others. Many were successful, and bear lingering health effects. On Flight 93, (on which Newton North principal, Jen Price, lost her parents) passengers discovered through cell phone calls to loved ones the intent of the hijackers. They took matters into their own hands, rushed the cockpit and prevented a fourth attack, possibly on the Capitol building or the White House. Rescue workers from all over the country came to New York to help search through the rubble at Ground Zero, to help find survivors and recover bodies. New Yorkers pulled together, prompting Tom Brokaw to observe that our largest city had suddenly become a small town. Perhaps most amazingly, members of Congress from both parties stood together on the Capitol steps and joined their voices singing God Bless America. There is no question that the terrorists meant to do us harm, but so many responded to the crisis with goodness. We humans are a messy lot. Even though we share many things, we differ on many others. Many of us have strong, passionately held beliefs, opinions and convictions that inevitably come into conflict. That is true in a global context, on our national scene, and sometimes in our church. We see that was the case even in the Early Church, when Saint Paul wrote to the church in Rome. That church was made up largely of Jewish Christians who did not agree on whether they were obligated to observe dietary laws after they were baptized. Paul’s earlier letters show that he had strong opinions on the matter, yet he did not weigh in on the dispute in Rome. He asked, “Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.” (Romans 14:4) At the end of the day, we cannot help but wonder why that event ten years ago happened. Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of Why Bad Things Happen to Good People and a former Newton resident said that when he hears people ask “why” he often hears an anguished cry of “woe” behind it. Ten years later, I don’t think any of us has a satisfying answers as to “why.” We still feel the pain, though with some distance on it. Some ask if Islam was to blame. I am embarrassed to admit I was among them in the weeks after the attacks. But we must remember that many Muslims and people of other faiths died in the attacks. The Salies, our Muslim neighbors who own and operate L’Aroma coffee house less than two blocks from here, lost their daughter Rahma, son-in-law Michael and unborn grandchild that day. The question of which is the true religion is not ours to answer. I am not saying that there is no place for critical thinking. I never want to be so open minded that my brain falls out. But the question of what religion is the bearer of ultimate truth is not up to us. That’s God’s call. We don’t have to be right all the time; we just have to try to be as righteous as we can. We are called to do good and love one another as God loves us and to be the best Christians, the best human beings, we know how to be.* I would like to close in prayer. I wrote this prayer with Rabbi Gurvis from Temple Shalom. It was circulated by the Newton Clergy Association and is being said in worship by congregations of various faiths throughout Newton this weekend, and will be part of the interfaith service at city hall tonight.
Prayer for 9/11
Leader: Merciful One, we gather today with vivid memories of a bright morning ten years ago.
People: As we gather, we recall loved ones lost, and honor those heroes struck down as they rushed to save others.
Leader: O God we offer you our broken hearts as we navigate our mixed emotions, which sometimes overwhelm us, leaving us numb and confused.
People: May our hearts remain open to hope and compassion, even in the face of fear and hatred.
Leader: Even in the confused aftermath of tragedy, we recall acts of kindness, proclamations of love, comfort shared in the midst of tragedy and uncertainty.
People: We know that our shared humanity can be the seed-bed of common ground and common purpose.
Leader: May we offer and accept friendship from neighbors far and near. Though we are many and miraculously diverse, we each receive life by our Creator, and our lives are meant to be shared.
People: We share our loss with people of good will around the world.
Leader: As we remember the past, let us maintain hope for the future and share the work of building our community. May our yearning for security never eclipse our zeal for justice or our defense of liberty.
People: We pray that our resolve be strong, but that it never make us hard. O God grant us such courage that terror has no meaning.
All: O God, as we recall the tragic loss of life in New York City, Washington DC, and Shanksville, Pennsylvania ten years ago this day, we pray that the bereaved might know comfort, the wounded might know healing, and that we each might discover resolve, inspiration and wisdom by examining the past and honoring the fallen. May we be enlightened by the past even as we face the future with courage, hope and purpose in a world without end. Amen.
*After spirited discussions with Charlie Wu, I was reminded that this is the most appropriate Christian approach to competing truth claims within a religiously diverse world. Philosophers have called this concept “epistemological modesty.”
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Newton, UCC God is a generous giver, but we can only see and enjoy God’s generosity when we love God with all of our hearts, minds and strength. As long as we say: ‘I will love you, God, but first show me your generosity,’ we will remain distant from God and unable to experience what God truly wants to give us, which is life and life in abundance. ―Henri J. M. Nouwen, Bread for the Journey
Scripture Lessons I Can’t Complain, But… Joe Walsh was a guitarist with The James Gang, in the sixties and early seventies. They had hits with Rocky Mountain Way and Funk #49. He later played with the Eagles. During the summer of ’78, the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, Walsh had a solo hit with Life’s Been Good. It was one of those songs that got so much radio play that it became part of the soundtrack of that summer. Life’s Been Good was a funny send-up about a rich and famous rock star living a fabulous lifestyle with a mansion that he’d never seen because he stayed in hotels all the time. He couldn’t drive his Italian sports car anymore because he lost his license speeding and now locks himself in the back of a limo for fear of being attacked by adoring fans. He knows he had a good life but admitted, “I can’t complain, but sometimes I still do.” I thought of that line when I read the passage in Exodus. After generations of slavery in Egypt, the Israelites were finally free. They were miraculously rescued by God. As the Pharaoh’s army bore down on them, God made the waters of the sea part so they could escape. When the Egyptians continued the pursuit, God closed the sea over them. When the Israelites reached the other shore, they danced and sang praise to God. When we find them in our reading today, it was six weeks later and they were hungry, talking about how great the food was in Egypt. Rather than singing praises to God who liberated and rescued them, it was more like “What have you done for me lately?” This is not exactly what Robert Schuler used to call an “attitude of gratitude.” Similarly, in the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, some of the workers actually complained that they got exactly what they bargained for. Jesus compared the kingdom of heaven to the arrangement between a landowner and various workers hired to work in his vineyard. It starts in the morning with the landowner agreeing with a group of laborers on what scripture described as “the usual wage.” (Matthew 20:2) As the day progressed, the landowner hired additional workers, promising to pay, “whatever is right.” (Matthew 20:4) At the end of the day, the landowner paid all the workers the same amount that was agreed upon with the first workers hired; the ones who worked through the whole day. Though they got exactly the wage they had agreed upon, they were incensed that those who had not worked as long were paid the same. They were treated fairly, but they were upset because they did not benefit from their employer’s extravagant generosity in the same way. We should remember that this is a parable, a made-up story used to teach a lesson. There are no pretenses to historical accuracy or claims of being factual in any way. And yet I am struck by how realistic it is in a certain way. This is why I often say that there is a difference between truth and facts. We read the Bible for truth. Jesus’ sixteen verse parable is as true and enlightening as when he told it twenty centuries ago. Contentment is a challenging concept for many of us. Though we may have what we need, we want better. We can’t help comparing what we have to what others have. We don’t really want a fair deal, we want better. Striving can be good, and great things can come from it. But often what we strive for is an illusion. Think about Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, who dreamed of being somewhere over the rainbow. When she got there all she wanted was to get back home to her family. Remember how the Israelites complained in the wilderness? They actually seemed nostalgic for bondage in Egypt because the food was better there. They did not know how hard freedom could be. Thinking with their stomachs, their situation did not seem fair. As much as we talk about wanting life to be fair, we never think about the downside of fairness. Can you imagine what life would be like if it was truly and precisely fair? Can you imagine a life where we all got tickets every time we exceeded the speed limit or just fill in the blank with whatever it is you did and got away with. And still, at some level, we want the cosmos to balance the equation. We want reality to somehow fit the simpleminded algebra we project onto existence. One of the hardest realizations in anyone’s life is that life is not fair. We know the reality of injustice, human suffering and natural disaster. Every day we are confronted with evidence that way too many people suffer beyond any reasonable explanation and it most certainly is not fair. Were the floods in Vermont fair? Were the tornadoes in Springfield, or Joplin, Missouri, or the wildfires in Texas fair? I just finished reading a book about hurricane Katrina, and I was reminded that there were scattered voices in the aftermath of the storm who claimed that New Orleans was hit particularly hard because of the hedonistic excesses for which the city is famous. In this case, this blame-the-victim theology ignored the fact that the French Quarter, ground zero for the city’s most extravagant and flamboyant debauchery, remained mostly dry, while the majority of the city was under water. I would have more sympathy with the “wrath of God” interpretation of events if the people making the argument linked the disaster to the vast racial and economic inequalities that had been allowed to fester there for far too long. But it was the poor and people of color who suffered the most from the hurricane. There is no simple equation. Blaming the victim for suffering is simpleminded and mean-spirited. Jesus had no patience for it. Once, some people told Jesus of “…Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices?” (Luke 13:1) The implication was that as they were fulfilling religious obligation while they were killed by a coldblooded Roman official. Jesus simply asked, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered thus?” (Luke 13:2) On another occasion, in the presence of a beggar who had been blind from birth, Jesus was asked if blindness was God’s punishment for the beggar’s sins or his parents’ sins. Jesus said that "It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.” (John 9:3) Then Jesus healed the man’s blindness. The appropriate first response to suffering is never to ask whose fault it was or whether or not it was deserved. The response to suffering is to provide comfort and assistance. I am pleased to recall that the overwhelming response of Americans to Hurricane Katrina was not to cluck our tongues at whatever perceived excesses may have occurred in New Orleans, but to try and help the people whose homes were lost and lives were shattered. I don’t know any place in the Bible where it says that life is fair. There are plenty of voices in Scripture that cry out to God about incomprehensible suffering and injustice: Job, Lamentations, and numerous Psalms. As he hung on the cross, Jesus quoted the Psalmist who asked, “My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1; Matthew 27:46) The Bible does not say that life is fair. It does affirm faith in God’s ultimate justice. And at the very beginning, the Bible says that life is good. The first chapter of Genesis tells us that we and the world in which God made us, are good. We are made good and we are meant to do good things. In this life, we will never see the world as God intended it, but we are intended to make it better. We can dwell on life’s imperfections, and we should not close our eyes to them in any case. But, thanks be to God, we are also blessed with visions of a beautiful creation and a place in it. By the grace of God, every once in a while, we open our eyes to those visions of stunning beauty. A moment ago I mentioned The Wizard of Oz. My favorite version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow was recorded by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. He was a Hawaiian ukulele player and singer. He recorded one of the most beautiful and brilliantly juxtaposed medleys I have ever heard. He seamlessly blended two familiar American standards: Somewhere Over the Rainbow and What a Wonderful World, first made famous by Louis Armstrong. Somewhere Over the Rainbow expresses such a melancholy longing for a world that is simpler, happier. It speaks from a dawning realization of the complexities of real life and a desire to be someplace better, simpler and happier. But in this medley, escapism gives way to the realization that, warts and all, we live in a wonderful world. This medley is all the more poignant when you know that Israel Kamakawiwo’ole suffered from a genetic predisposition to morbid obesity. His father had the same condition and died young of a massive heart attack. This massive man with the voice of an angel died young as well, as I’m sure he expected. But Israel Kamakawiwo’ole new how to count his blessings, and he blessed us with a musical treasure for all time. He sang about a wonderful world. Life is hard sometimes, and we are all living through a particularly difficult time now. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know when I say that life isn’t fair. But life is also beautiful. We have much to be grateful for. We need to count our blessings and be grateful. When we do that, it is much more likely that we can be a blessing to others. We live in a wonderful world. We are made in the image of God and we are meant to do good things in this sad and wonderful world without end. Amen. Return to the top of this sermon. Return to Sermon List
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