Sunday, August 28, 2022

Places of Honor

August 28, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Proverbs 25:6-7; Luke 14:1, 7-14[1]

We all like to be valued, to be important to someone. We want to have a good reputation, and we go to great lengths to maintain our image. And how do we measure that image? We compare ourselves to others, of course. We receive our sense of worth from other human beings. We do and say things that we hope will cause others to think well of us. We follow the rules of the group we find ourselves in, the unspoken rules of how we show that we are part of the gang. We imitate the people we aspire to be, those who are more successful, more beautiful, more rich or strong or powerful that we are.

In our core we all have a deep need to be recognized, to be liked by others, and how we act is motivated by that need to obtain recognition. We need someone to tell us: I noticed you, and I like what you are doing. Nice job. Good sermon, pastor. That’s my girl! What up, homie? If the group likes something, or someone, we do too. If they make jokes, we laugh.

The issue which Jesus raises with his listeners is, who do we want to recognize us, to notice and appreciate us, to tell us “I like you”? I can depend on my peers, in which case my reputation, my efforts to fit in will be a reflection of them. I will do everything I can to remain well-thought-of by them, welcoming those whom they welcome and excluding those whom they exclude, so as not to run the risk of becoming excluded myself. This is the game we play to keep our social life going, but what we don’t realize is how much of our identity depends on this difficult game of keeping our reputation. Who I am is deeply dependent on those I associate with: my social circles, my friends, the others who maintain my reputation. Who I am is controlled by how others see me, and that can be dangerous.

Jesus visits the home of a leader of the Pharisees. The Pharisees were important, they had a good reputation. A sabbath meal must be conducted with proper decorum, respect, and appropriate seating arrangements. Jesus observes how the places of honor, the seats closest to the host, are taken by those with the best reputation. There is a bit of arrogance at play here as the guests choose their places.

The reputation of Jesus was not so good. He was known for breaking the rules. He dismissed the rules of purity and cleanliness that were part of keeping a good reputation. He did work on the sabbath, as we heard in the reading last week, and had been seen touching sick and unclean people. He and his disciples had a reputation for eating with dirty hands. And perhaps the quickest way to offend the proper order of things was to eat with unclean people, with known sinners, and tax collectors! The Pharisees, guarding their reputations, were watching him.

Jesus watches them back, as the guests chose the places of honor. He sees a teachable moment, an opportunity to give some advice on honor and humility:

When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place,” and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you.[2]

Wise advice, they might have thought. This Jesus isn’t so bad. He knows how embarrassing it can be to be put in your place. Better to have someone else show respect to you and invite you to sit in the place of honor. Then people will see how humble and exalted you are! This Jesus can play by the rules.

Of course, Jesus doesn’t stop there. “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”[3] Wise advice that shows he sees right through the game they are playing. It is the game we all play, the game of reputation management, the game of trying to look good before others, often at someone else’s expense. Jesus didn’t come to play the game, however. Jesus came to change the game, and here comes the lesson.

When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.[4]

Not only are you playing the game wrong, looking for places of honor at the banquet, but you’re playing the wrong game. It’s not about who is the most important, the most respected, who has the best reputation. It’s about who gets to eat in the first place.

This is the Jesus we know, the one who doesn’t care about the reputation others give him. The Pharisees must have been horrified. Those unclean, impure, sick and weak and ugly people – who could eat with them? That would destroy my reputation! I can’t be seen with those people.

Jesus exposes the game for what it is. The game of looking good, of building a reputation, this is a human power game. In games of power and prestige, some people rise and some don’t. Some people are part of the in-group and some are left out. Jesus shows us that when we celebrate only the well-though-of some people are left out, and those people matter too.

There is another way to define who I am. I can receive my reputation, my identity, from God. I don’t come from the best family. I don’t have the most money, the finest clothes, or the most impressive group of friends. But I am part of God’s family, I am created in God’s image, and I am more than who other people think I am.

If I build my reputation on my relationship with God, then I am much less concerned with the reputation which people give me, and I become free to associate with those who have no reputation. I am free to share a table with people who are hungry, who are homeless, who are trying to not give in to that urge to have just one more drink, one more fix. My reputation with God won’t suffer from loving the tax collectors and sinners, the prisoners, the sick, or the outcast.

Jesus had a bad reputation when he came to that meal with the Pharisee. Born in a stable, perceived as a troublemaker, as an outlaw, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners, Jesus was known to do and say things that were troubling, upsetting, even treasonous. He would be executed as a criminal hung on the cross. But his resurrection is the testimony that only our reputation with God really matters. God loves even those with a bad reputation, forgives all who repent, and claims each of us as God’s own. God graciously forgives us and adopts us as children in the one Holy family, a family which seeks to embrace all of God’s creatures.

We are offered a reputation based on our relationship with Christ, who was raised from his place with the lowest of the low on the cross, raised from the dead, and exalted as the Son of God. We have a seat at the table with the least of our brothers and sisters, the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind; as well as the wealthy, the strong, the powerful, and the famous. When we seek our place with humility, we will be invited to move up higher.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 14:8-10.

[3] Luke 14:11.

[4] Luke 14:12-14.

Sunday, August 21, 2022

Healing on the Sabbath

August 21, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 58:9b-14; Luke 13:10-17[1]

We don’t use the term “sabbath” much in our conversations. “What are you doing on the sabbath, brother?” “Oh, I’m going down to the temple to pray, then resting in the park.” We might ask someone, “What are you doing on Sunday?” And they might reply, “Going to church, then watching the ball game, you?” But, just because we don’t use the term “sabbath,” doesn’t mean we don’t know what it means.

In the church, we long ago took the Jewish practice of sabbath - observed from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown - and moved it to Sunday. Going to the temple was replaced with going to church, but prayer and the worship of God are still the focus. And we’ve kept the idea of keeping Sunday as a special day. Thanks to the labor movement, now we have two special days we call the weekend, which is nice. But Sunday is still extra-special for most of us.

Sunday is the day we relax with family and friends. Some people run marathons (which seems like a lot of work to me), play golf or other sports, watch other people play sports, eat out, eat together around the dinner table, or other things we don’t usually do during the rest of the week. Most of us don’t work on Sundays, though some of us do. But I’ll guess that all of us with jobs outside the home get a day or two off each week.

That was part of the point of keeping sabbath, even for our ancient ancestors. The idea of taking a break from work, a day to rest and recuperate, is important to our well-being. Even God took a break after creating the world in six days. The keeping of sabbath as a law or religious ordinance, however, wasn’t established until Moses went up the mountain to receive the Ten Commandments from God. The word “sabbath” doesn’t appear in the Bible until after Moses has led the people out of Egypt. And what were they doing in Egypt? They were slaves.

Slaves don’t get a day off. Slaves don’t get paid either, let alone health benefits and a retirement fund, but they did usually receive food, water, and perhaps shelter. But there was no break from work, no day off to rest, recuperate, and cheer on the chariot racers. Slave work wasn’t sitting at a desk occasionally Facebooking either. Day after day after day of endless hard labor with never an end in sight. Imagine that. Imagine working hard, day after day, getting ever more tired and worn down, and never getting a break. Sounds like parenting, actually. But seriously, I worked some long stretches when I worked at the bank, at month end, and after twelve days straight I was about ready to die. I can’t imagine never getting a break.

The sabbath is a gift from God. For the newly forming Israelite community, it must have seemed incredibly wonderful. Over time, it became a signature characteristic of Jewish people, that they didn’t work on the sabbath. Taking a break from the routine, taking time to worship God and be with their families was, and still is for most, part of their identity. Exodus 20, the first list of the commandments (yes, there’s more than one list), reads:

Remember the sabbath day and treat it as holy. Six days you may work and do all your tasks, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. Do not do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your animals, or the immigrant who is living with you. Because the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and everything that is in them in six days, but rested on the seventh day. That is why the Lord blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.[2]

This idea of getting a day off from work, and taking time to worship God, is precious. Certainly, this was important to a people who had just been enslaved. This precious gift from God must be protected. And so, later in Exodus, the Lord gave to Moses instructions for keeping the sabbath, and says:

Keep the sabbath, because it is holy for you. Everyone who violates the sabbath will be put to death. Whoever does any work on the sabbath, that person will be cut off from the people.[3]

This is serious business. God really wants you to take a break. This is reiterated in the Isaiah passage we just read:

If you refrain from trampling the sabbath, from pursuing your own interests on my holy day; if you call the sabbath a delight and the holy day of the Lord honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, serving your own interests, or pursuing your own affairs; then you shall take delight in the Lord, and I will make you ride upon the heights of the earth.[4]

Keeping sabbath, and keeping it holy, is a really big deal. Bad things happen when you work on the sabbath, and good things happen when you don’t. This is why the leader of the synagogue is so upset by what Jesus does. Jesus heals the bent-over woman; he does work on the sabbath. No, no, no! That’s not what we do. “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.”[5] The sabbath day is precious. If Jesus starts working on the sabbath, then his followers will start doing work on the sabbath, and pretty soon no one will get a day off ever again!

This poor guy who is leading the synagogue that Jesus visited that day. He’s trying to be faithful. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do things; if you want to please God, we’ve got laws that tell you how to do that. Religious observance is the way to win God’s favor, so make sure you have interesting worship services, lovely buildings, beautiful prayers, and a lot of focus on the law, in this case the law about doing no work on the sabbath.

Okay, maybe they pushed things a little too far, as Jesus points out when he responds: “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water?”[6] A little work is okay, because sometimes things need to be done now, and they can’t wait. And this woman, this daughter of Abraham, needs to be set free now, she can’t wait any longer, her life is too precious. Yes, the sabbath is good, and important, but if you really want to please God, worry less about following the letter of the law, and worry more about how you treat one another.

This religious leader, and others like him, were folks who got up in the morning thinking about God and how they might serve God better. They didn't always get it right, but they were sincerely trying. Sounds a lot like you and me. We don’t always do things the way that God might want us to. What would Jesus do? I’ll try to do that. And when I let Jesus point out the shortcomings in the way that I’ve been thinking, I might just be a little more forgiving of myself, and more kind to others.

Taking a break, resting and worshiping on the sabbath, on the Lord’s Day, is valuable. It’s important. But maybe the point is not about whether we keep the Sabbath or not, but the way in which we keep it, and keep it holy. So, I come to church and worship God. I’ll rest and take some time to be with my family. But if something needs to get done, and it just can’t wait, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I’m also not going to let whatever it is take over my day, and take away my opportunity for sabbath.

I’m not going to spend all day focused on my computer screen, or my cell phone screen, or my TV screen. But if I need to know the weather forecast, I’ll look it up. I will try to resist the temptation to check Facebook and my email. If I want to relax in front of the game with friends, that’s fine, but I’ll try to make my friends, and not the game, the main focus of my time. I may check my cell phone once in a while, but maybe I’ll take it out of my pocket and set it down somewhere so that it doesn’t command my attention constantly.

We might do a little work on the sabbath, and we might not follow the letter of the law, but we’re celebrating the spirit and the point of the law which is to be loving, caring people, resting in the presence of one another, stepping out of our routine to celebrate the gift of sabbath, a gift given by God for our well-being. Let us take delight in the Lord’s Day, share the sabbath meal together, and remember the one who came to show us the way to be holy, the one who healed on the sabbath day.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Exodus 20:8-11.

[3] Exodus 31:14.

[4] Isaiah 58:13-14a.

[5] Luke 13:14.

[6] Luke 13:15.

Sunday, August 14, 2022

Touched by the Song

August 14, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Psalm 96; Ephesians 5:8-20[1]

You know the Genesis story, when God said “Let there be light.” I wonder, was there any music? Did the light just appear, or was there some kind of a glorious, cosmic “Ta-Da!”? Did the creation have a soundtrack? There is another creation story, much more recent, that I love. It comes from C.S. Lewis in The Magician’s Nephew, book 6 of the Chronicles of Narnia.

In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing… Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once… Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it. …

Then two wonders happened at the same moment. One was that the voice was suddenly joined by other voices; more voices than you could possibly count. They were in harmony with it, but far higher up the scale: cold, tingling, silvery voices. The second wonder was that the blackness overhead, all at once, was blazing with stars. If you had seen and heard it… you would have felt quite certain that it was the stars themselves who were singing, and that it was the First Voice, the deep one, which had made them appear and made them sing.[2]

That story may be in a children’s book, but there is such power and beauty to it that it moves me like a song. Maybe if I heard the Genesis story sung in Hebrew by a trained cantor, it would have that feel to it. Music has a potency that words alone cannot convey.

Music is one of the most powerful forces in our lives. It has the power to shape our emotions, fuse memories into our minds, and express what cannot be completely put into words. Songs can touch our hearts, as poetry, images, and symbols take us beyond the boundaries of plain or even lofty speech.

In April of last year, at the funeral of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, a bagpiper played a piece of music. “Flowers of the Forest” is a Scottish folk melody commemorating the defeat of the army of James the Fourth in the battle of Flodden in 1513. Due to the reverence in which it is held, many pipers will practice it in private, performing in public only at funerals or memorial services. Poet Jean Elliot wrote lyrics for the ancient tune sometime about 1757. Her refrain is haunting, “The Flooers of the Forest are a’ wede awa’”. Translated from Scots dialect, it means, “The Flowers of the Forest are all wilted away.” It gives voice to grief in a particularly stirring way.

Music is a key component of the life of faith. Music, worship, and the transcendent are interwoven in a pattern that makes meaning and sense out of the chaos of our lives. The spiritual life is a song that brings light into our hearts. Music even has the power to bring life into our hearts. Think of the energy and joy you feel when singing “Joy to the World,” or “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.”

A radio station in Seattle did a series a few years ago called “Why Music Matters.” A variety of ordinary and extraordinary people shared their stories of the impact of music in their lives.

Barbara Dunn, a music therapist, admits she’s a “cheerleader for the power of music.” Every day she sees how music can elevate and heal patients suffering from severe pain and grim diagnoses, during her work as the head of music therapy at Whidbey General Hospital in Seattle. This is her story about music and a miraculous recovery.

I was asked to play for this woman at the hospital who had just had a massive stroke. Our staff was thinking that she was not going to pull through. Her husband had just left for a little while, and when he came back they were going to talk with him about withdrawing life support. So, I was asked to play for this woman; and their thinking was, can you please just provide some comfort for this person who is probably at the end of her life. Can you please just go and be with her?

She was just lying there, had some life support. She was young, I think in her forties or fifties. I felt like I saw fear in her eyes, and so I’m trying to just communicate comfort. I felt like she could hear me. I was there for her, for this hour. I was playing whatever I thought would bring memories, what might be a lifeline for her. And then I left, and her husband came back. And he was, at that point, able to get her to effectively respond. They were able to communicate with her. They didn’t withdraw life support. And they actually sent her to a rehab facility.[3]

Have you ever been deeply touched by a song? Of course you have. You’re probably thinking of one right now. There are songs that make us cry, or want to dance, or just sing along at the top of our lungs. But in that hospital room, Barbara gave that woman something more. She gave her a lifeline.

There was a time in my life when I needed a lifeline. The day-to-day was fine, but I was slowly dying inside. And the main reason was that I had never really chosen a direction. You know that Robert Frost poem where two roads diverged in a wood? Well, I just stood there at that crossroads for a long time. I could feel a pull down one path, but I kept looking at the other options hoping something would appear that would lead me that way.

Eventually it was a song that gave me the lifeline I needed. “Hold It Up To the Light”[4] has this stanza:

It's too late - to be stopped at the crossroads
Each life here - each a possible way
But wait - and they all will be lost roads
Each road's getting shorter the longer I stay.

So, I made my choice. I held it up to the light, asked God to bless my decision, and I began to move. I began to see the signs leading forward, and I knew that the choice was good. The traveling music changed, but that was good too.

As we worship, we express our struggles and joys, our faith and our doubt through the hymns and songs. We train one another to give voice to the life and faith of the church. The songs that we sing may touch our hearts or the hearts of those around us, they may be planted in the souls of children, or usher us into the great unknown.

The music of God’s creation fills the universe with song. “O sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.[5] As you go about your lives, “be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”[6] Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew (New York: Collier, 1955), 98-99.

[4] David Wilcox, “Hold It Up to the Light” on Big Horizon © 1994 A&M Records.

[5] Psalm 96:1.

[6] Ephesians 5:19-20.

Sunday, August 7, 2022

Live by Faith and Hope

August 7, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Hebrews 11:1–3, 8–16; Luke 12:32–40

Are you waiting for something? Are you expecting something to happen, but you don’t know when? We spend a lot of our time waiting. We wait in line to check out at the grocery store. We wait for the light to change from red to green. We wait for the inspiration to come. We wait for the computer to boot up. With all this waiting, you’d think we would be good at it. We should be able to wait, as Jesus said, “like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet.” Our lamps are ready to be lit, we’re awake and alert, ready to go!

The thing is, we know that when the waiting is over, the time for change has come - and change is scary. The moment comes and… we let it pass us by. The big day arrives and we’re afraid to move, to act, to change, to stop waiting. There is a song by Sarah McLachlan that captures the sense of despair that can accompany waiting:

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay.
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard, at the end of the day.
[1]

Waiting is comfortable. We have our routine, the same day to day, week to week, a comfortable rhythm. Waiting doesn’t require much of us. The thing is, if we just wait, often what we hope for never happens. Maybe what needs to happen is waiting on us.

Abraham had been promised a land, a people, descendants numbered like the stars. But ages went by, and he and his wife, Sarah, grew old. Still, he had faith. “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going.” Even as he waited for the promises of God to be fulfilled, Abraham continued to do as God asked, until finally God came through. “Therefore, from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, ‘as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.’” Abraham lived by faith and hope, and became known as the father of many nations.

After college I took a job at the bank. Just something to pay the bills while I waited to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life. It was nine years before my waiting was over, and by then I had grown pretty comfortable with my routine. But I had faith and hope for what was next; and when I felt called, I got moving.

Change for me meant leaving my hometown of Denver, moving to a tiny apartment in Chicago, and starting school again. It was very hard to leave that old life behind. I left my family, my friends, and many things I loved. I fell to a low point of loneliness and sadness in that time. But with the help of my new community, the strength and wisdom I had gained as I waited, and with some faith in the calling I had received, I began to rise from that low point and in my new life I began to shine.

The change that comes at the unexpected hour may begin with things getting worse. It is difficult to overcome inertia. There is loss, and some cherished things must be left behind. Moving in a new direction takes a lot of energy. There are those who will oppose the change, and will tell you that you’re making a mistake. I remember thinking, “What have I done?” But with the help of those around you, with faith in the strength of God to see you through, and with the knowledge that the light of the world has come into your heart, you can face the end of waiting.

Maybe you’re ready. Perhaps you have made purses that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven. Your lamp is lit. You’re at the door. The excitement of finally going fills you with joy. Isaiah, the prophet, was ready. When he heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” He replied, “Here am I; send me!”[2] When the road ahead is clear and well-marked, and you’re ready, moving on is easy. When the way is less clear, or a fork appears in the road, we hesitate.

A decision must be made. Which way shall I go, which choice shall I choose? Often, it is facing a decision, choosing one thing and losing another, that causes us to keep waiting. We fear making the wrong choice, or losing out on something because we have chosen something else. The songwriter David Wilcox puts it succinctly:

I was dead with deciding - afraid to choose.
I was mourning the loss of the choices I'd lose.
But there's no choice at all if I don't make my move,
And trust that the timing is right;
Yes, and hold it up to the light.
[3]

When the waiting is over, start moving. If you hold your choice up to the light, you’ll be moving in the direction that leads toward God. The change may be hard at first, but don’t give up hope, for after the fall comes a rising. The prophet Simeon said that Jesus was destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel. We are a resurrection people, and though we fall, we rise again to new life, and to the fulfillment of our calling to seek the realm of God.

“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Let’s be ready when the time comes, trusting that the timing is right, already moving forward with faith and hope, forward toward the kin-dom of God.



[1] Sarah McLachlan, “Angel” on Surfacing (Wild Sky Studios, 1997).

[2] Isaiah 6:8.

[3] David Wilcox, “Hold It Up to the Light” on Big Horizon (A&M Records, 1994).