Sermon – Luke 24.13-35, Acts 2.14a, 36-41, E3, YA, April 26, 2020

Tags

church, crisis, disciples, Easter, Emmaus, faith, hope, human, Jesus, lost, love, pandemic, resurrection, Sermon, vulnerable, weakness

To say we have been operating in crisis mode here at Hickory Neck would be an understatement.  We went from normal operations, to heavy restrictions for gathering and receiving communion, to entirely closing our buildings, to moving all worship online, to virtual learning, fellowship, and pastoral care.  All of those changes happened rapidly, and with an eye to whatever was next.  Once we figured out some semblance of a new rhythm and “normal,” Holy Week came, and we had to figure out how to make our most sacred week of the Church Year meaningful despite our inability to gather physically.  Baptisms and confirmations have been postponed, our Bishop’s visit has been delayed, and farewells and celebrations have been canceled.  And yet, here we are, about half-way through a stay-at-home order, with infection and death rates at astronomical levels, and the Church finds herself in the third week of Easter, still proclaiming her alleluias.

I am not sure I could pull myself together and proclaim those alleluias without the lessons from Holy Scripture we have been journeying with these last Sundays.  In a normal Eastertide, we are more carefree, reveling in Easter joy, making bold proclamations about resurrection and eternal life, and listening to the early Easter stories like the walk to Emmaus with a sense of endearment – as if saying, “Bless their hearts!” as the early Christians try to figure out what in the world is going on after Jesus’ resurrection.  But this is not a normal Eastertide.  In fact, Biblical scholar Matt Skinner refers to this time as “Pandemic Easter.”[i]  For the first time in perhaps most of our lives, we can more deeply empathize with the disciples during these early days of resurrection.  The modern Church has used Eastertide as a bold proclamation of the meaning of Jesus’ death and resurrection.  But the first disciples of Christ are not boldly doing anything.  In fact, they are bereft, confused, scared, given glimpses of hope followed by bouts of despair and doubt.  They are not sure what to believe, even having seen the risen Jesus themselves.  Even those who receive the teaching from the disciples in our Acts lesson are overcome with emotion and can only ask, “Brothers, what should we do?”

Somehow, living in Pandemic Easter has made our Eastertide lessons much more powerfully relatable.  I do not know if I am ready to boldly proclaim, “The Lord is Risen Indeed.”  But I am willing to say to fellow Christians, and to God, “What should we do?”  I am willing to talk with a fellow person of faith, or even a person of no faith, walking with them (either metaphorically or at least at a distance of six feet) as we make our way through this mess.  Those disciples on the walk to Emmaus look different to me this year.  Those two people who thought they knew what they believed, who are confused by testimony of Jesus’ resurrection, who walk away from the protective hideout with fellow disciples, are trying to make sense of life, death, and Jesus.  They are not people to be pitied or seen as adorably unsure of their faith.  They are us.  They are people in a life-altering crisis, trying to make sense of death and defeat, wondering where hope may be, and a bit lost.

And here comes the best part.  Now, I have always thought the best parts of this story are where Jesus teaches the disciples unawares, shares a meal with them, or their hearts becoming strangely warmed, allowing them to become the second set of witnesses after the women at the tomb.  But in Pandemic Easter, the best part of this story might just be what happens on the walk to Emmaus.  Jesus invites these two followers to talk about what has happened to them.  He literally walks with them as they share their shock, their grief, their sadness.  Perhaps in Easters past, I thought Jesus was being coy or trying to trick the disciples in some way.  But in Pandemic Easter, I think Jesus is doing what we all need:  Jesus listens, he lets the disciples share their reality, he makes space for the human response to a new normal.    Jesus makes space for questions like, “What should we do?”

I don’t know about you, but the very real, vulnerable, human interactions between Jesus and the disciples in Scripture today has been a tremendous balm to me.  More than perhaps any year, the Church is not telling us how to embrace and proclaim a certain and sure faith.  Today the Church is simply inviting us to hover in the actual experience of Easter – days of confusion, sadness, fear, and grief.  We are able to tarry there because Scripture reminds us today that Jesus walks with us.  When we cannot yet understand, when we perhaps cannot even believe, Jesus walks with us on the journey.  Jesus listens to our real human response to crisis and walks with us.  Someday – maybe today, maybe in a week or month, or maybe in a year, we will be able to hear Jesus’ teaching and understand, and our hearts will be strangely warmed with conviction.  Until then, Jesus walks with us where we are, acknowledging the fullness of our weakness, and staying with us and loving us through it all.  Thanks be to God.

[i] Matt Skinner, “The Road to Emmaus Feels Longer This Year,” April 19, 2020, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5428 on April 24, 2020.

On Cultivating Empathy…

Tags

boundaries, crying, emotion, empathy, fear, give, God, Jesus, receive, teach, weakness

Photo credit:  https://www.raisingboysandgirls.com/raisingboysandgirls-blog/girls-boys-empathy

This weekend, I watched the live-action version of Beauty and the Beast with our children.  They have seen the animated version many times, but the differences in storyline in the live version made them feel like they were seeing the story for the first time, no longer trusting the outcome to be the same.  As we watched the film, we were spread across the living room in our favorite watching spots.  At the point where the beast releases Belle to go help her father, the Beast sings a sad song not found in the animated version.  In the midst of the song, my younger daughter jumped up from her seat, her eyes overflowing with tears and ran to jump in my lap.

I was surprised by her strong reaction to the scene, and quickly began to comfort her and ask what was upsetting her so much.  She was devastated Belle might not come back and was weeping for the beast.  We whispered quietly and I tried to reassure her so she could keep watching.  Meanwhile, my older daughter was completely confused by her sister’s reaction.  Perhaps she felt her sister should remember the ending, or maybe she just thought crying over a movie was silly (as she has told me so many a time as I have wiped my own tears at various movies).

Later that night, I talked with my younger daughter about the movie and her reaction.  She said she was glad she had not seen the movie at school because she wouldn’t want her friends to see her cry.  As we talked about her fear, she recalled that I had once told her it was okay to cry when something is really sad.

I have been thinking since that night how we teach our children and what lessons adult internalize about emotions.  I am not suggesting we need to walk around crying all the time, but I do think we have internalized some messaging about how crying connotes weakness instead of a deep sense of empathy.  And the good Lord know we need a lot more empathy these days – for our friends, for our enemies, for strangers.

As I think about Jesus’ ministry, one of the things he always showed was a sense of empathy without boundaries:  for women and the powerless, for the sick and ostracized, for those who are slow to understand, for those who follow rules but forget grace, for those who have let fear and anger harden their hearts.  This week, I invite you to consider where you have lost touch with empathy.  If you need some prodding, I suspect just reading or listening to the news will give you ample opportunity for occasions for empathy.  But I imagine you already know where you have separated yourself from empathy.  It will not be easy work, and others might look at you askance when you show empathy.  But I suspect the more you work on empathy, the more you might receive it in return.

 

 

On God’s Mothering Wings…

Tags

barrier, brood, God, hen, Jesus, relax, strength, vulnerability, weakness, willfulness

Photo credit:  https://themilitarywifeandmom.com/one-simple-trick-to-help-your-kids-fall-asleep-fast/

The other night I was rocking my younger to sleep.  The practice is slowly becoming a rarity.  She is getting a bit big for rocking, and now seems to prefer me to sing to her in her bed without rocking her.  The loss of that privilege is one more thing on the list of preferences that demonstrate she is becoming a big girl and is needing me less and less.  So, although she consented to the rocking, her body revealed her resistance.  She was tense and alert.  But once I was able to quiet her down, and the rocking continued, her body began to let go.  Fatigue overcame her, and I could feel her body gradually relaxing in my arms.  That willful, determined, independent little girl was able to let go for a moment, and give into sleep in my arms.

As the tension in her body melted away, I wondered if that is how God feels when I finally cede control to God – if I am similarly determined and defiant when it comes to my relationship with God.  The revelation reminded me of the lament of Jesus from Matthew 23, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”  I have always loved that image of the hen gathering her brood, but I never thought about how willful those chicks felt to the mother hen, how willful we are when it comes to God.

As I held my child that night, and I felt her breathing slow and her muscles untense, I was keenly aware of how our bodies were becoming more sympathetic.  Her relaxing into me allowed me to relax too – such that I was not fighting for intimacy with her but just experiencing it.  Barriers came down, just for a moment, and we were able to just lean into one another.

I wonder what barriers are up between you and God these days.  What might leaning into God, trusting God to handle your vulnerability and weakness, feel like?  I do not think God wants us to give up our strength, independence, or drive.  But I do suspect that we would do a better job with those if we were bold enough to admit when we need God too.  That may mean confessing that to God directly.  It may mean finding a trusted friend who can serve as Christ for you this week.  Or it may mean confessing that weakness to a friend who is also struggling so that they can see their weakness as beloved as yours.  Allowing ourselves to be gathered by God’s mothering wings – even if only every once in a while – might just be what we need to strengthen us for Christ’s work in the world.

Sermon – Mark 5.21-43, P8, YB, June 28, 2015

Tags

baptism, Christ, communion, community, doubt, faith, God, hemorrhaging woman, Jairus' daughter, Jesus, powerful, saints, strong, weakness, witness, women

Today we are surrounded by some powerful women.  Many of you do not know Charlotte and Piper, who we are baptizing today, but they came into the world fighting.  While they were in the womb, their lives were threatened.  Doctors were able to operate in the womb at twenty-one weeks to ensure their survival.  Despite that help, they were born early and very tiny, but amazingly, had to have very little medical support.  Once they gained weight, they were able to come home and enjoy a healthy infancy.  My guess is that the strength these two children of God harnessed is what has pulled them through – a strength that their parents might regret when they hit their teenage years!

When we baptize Charlotte and Piper, we will baptize them into a communion full of strong saints – women who have paved the road before them, who have shown great faithfulness and strength, and who will serve as mentors and guides in their earthly pilgrimage.  We meet a couple of those women today.  First we meet Jairus’ daughter through her father.  Now, we might not think of her as a strong woman, since she is near death, but this young woman was powerful nonetheless.  She evokes such devotion in her father that he, a synagogue leader, is willing to bow down to the controversial Jesus and beg for healing for his dying daughter.  Jairus’ love for this powerful young woman made him willing to cross boundaries, to show vulnerability, and put great faith in Jesus.  We also know that Jairus’ daughter is twelve, about the age that women start menstruating, making them capable of producing life – one of the most powerful gifts of nature.  Though she is at death’s door, her power as a woman and as an individual bring people like Jesus to her, so that she might be restored to wholeness of life.

Of course, we also meet another strong woman today.  By all accounts, this woman should not have been strong.  In those days, menstruation alone meant that women had to be separated from the community for a period of time for ritual impurity.  But to have been bleeding for twelve years means that this woman has been ostracized from others for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive.  Furthermore, she spent all her money trying to obtain healing from doctors.  Her poverty and her impurity make her a double outcast.[i]  But this woman will not quit.  She boldly steps into a crowd (likely touching many people that she ritually should not) and she grabs on to Jesus’ clothing, knowing that simply by touching Jesus she can be healed.  She does not ask Jesus to heal her or mildly whisper among the crowds, “Excuse me Jesus, could you please heal me?”  No, she takes matters into her own hands, and though Jesus demands to speak with her, her own determination and faith make her whole.

In many ways, the baptism that we witness today is a same expression of strength and faith.  When we are baptized, we (or in the case of infants our parents and godparents) boldly claim the life of faith.  We renounce the forces of evil and we rejoice in the goodness of God.  We promise to live our life seeking and serving Christ, honoring dignity in others, and sharing Christ in the world.  This action is not a meek or mild one.  This action is an action of boldness – one in which we stand before the waters of baptism, and stake our claim in resurrection life.

Now, here’s the good news:  even though we are surrounded by powerful women today and we are doing and saying powerful things, we do not always have to be strong.  All the women we honor today are strong – but they have moments of weakness too.[ii]  I am sure over the course of twelve years, the hemorrhaging woman has doubts.  As bold as she is today, I am sure there are moments when she fears – maybe even that day – whether she could really reach out and claim Jesus’ power as her own.  And as Jairus’ daughter feels the life fade from her, I am sure she doubts.  I am sure she wonders whether she will ever be able to claim the life-force that is budding inside of her or to live a long life honoring her parents.  And though Charlotte and Piper have been warriors thus far in life, they will both have their own doubts and weaknesses.  In fact, that is why we as a congregation today promise that we will do all in our power to support them in their life in Christ.  That is why her parents and godparents promise by their prayers and witness to help them grow into the full stature of Christ.  That is the good news today.  For all the moments of strength that we honor in one another, we also honor the doubts, fears, and weaknesses.  God is with us then too, and gives us the community of faith to keep us stable until we can be strong witnesses again.  Amen.

[i] Mark D. W. Edington, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 190.

[ii] David Lose, “Come As You Are,” June 24, 2012 at https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1493 found on June 25, 2015.