Turn

 We haven't been up on the North Shore for ten years, I think.  I moved down to Texas in 2015, and although we have visited our family in Minnesota, there hasn't been the time to drive north.  But we used to go, every summer, for three or four days, and take our dog along.  Part of my sabbatical this year was one week on the North Shore at a theological retreat center run by my friend Anna.  It is a place to unwind and relax and get inspiration from the forests and lakes and the cool breezes.  

Of course, it was 90 degrees when we arrived on Sunday afternoon --with no air conditioning, because no one has air conditioning around here.  They promised that the weather would change, though and sometime during that first night, coolness rolled in through the open windows.  It was a feeling I hadn't experienced since my childhood, pre-air conditioning.  Fans in all of the windows, my mom coming into our rooms late in the night and changing the direction of the fans so that they would blow the cool air in instead of blowing the hot air out.  

On Wednesday we had planned to go to Grand Marais.  We had so many good memories there -- hiking trails, eating at restaurants (with our dog), the local artists, the World's Best Donuts (really!).  But some of the places we remembered weren't open (although the fabulous Drury Lane Bookstore was).  However, I couldn't decide which book to buy and ended up leaving empty-handed.

On the way home, we kept looking for places to stop and hike and get good views of the lake.  Inspiration.  That was part of the reason I came, right?  As Anna's tagline goes "Retreat Reflect Restore".  But retreating reflecting and restoring is not a straight line.

We stopped at Tettegouche State Park but decided that wasn't the right place, at least not on Wednesday.  So we continued driving, debating where to stop, until we remembered a Scenic Overlook close to "home", at Silver Creek Cliff.  That is where we stopped, and that is where we walked.  We walked part of the way up and back, because we were already tired.  There is a tunnel there, but it wasn't there until 1994.  Before that, the narrow road ran right along the cliff.  There were spectacular views, but with some unfortunate downsides -- for example, sometimes falling rocks would close the road for days (or perhaps longer.  I don't know).  The tunnel opened in 1994 as well as the walking path, so you can get close to the edge of the cliff (without rocks falling on you).

I walked with my camera out, because I always want to take pictures of what I am seeing, but I was disappointed in every picture I tried to take.  They just weren't spectacular enough, I guess.  But the walking was good, and I did see a monarch butterfly and some milkweed.

Then we got to the part where we decided to turn around.  I don't remember if it was right away, but in my memory it seems like it was.  I turned around, and there it was.  The Lake.

All I had to do was turn around.  Which doesn't seem like such a hard thing to do, but, at the heart of it, that is what repentance is.  Turning.  Turning around.  Returning.  I don't know about you, but when I usually think of repentance, I think of it in my head.  My brain.  My heart. Thinking, or feeling, differently,  But somehow I think that repentance, like faith itself, is really a whole body experience.  No offense to Paul, but we don't just change our minds.  We turn our heads, our bodies, our lives, in a different direction.  

Turn.  That is what Jesus asks us to do, and not just once, but every day.  You never know which moment it will be, when you will turn, and see something different, or see something, or someone, in a different way.  We will be astonished by beauty, by vastness, by grace.  

That is what repentance, that is what turning, does.  It is re-orienting ourselves to God.  But not just our minds.  Our faces, looking up into rain or sunshine. Our backs, leaning over a garden.  Our whole bodies, our whole selves, repent.  And it seems to me that this turning is also at the heart of our lives.  Again and again and again -- we turn.

The Kingdom of heaven has drawn near.

The Fruit of the Spirit is Joy

“The Power of Joy”

Nehemiah 8:1-10

             The fruit of the Spirit is Joy.  

            And the joy of the Lord is our strength.

            Do you recognize that verse?  I have seen it on placques, heard it in songs, know it by heart.  “The Joy of the Lord is our strength.”  

            Just one verse – but have you ever thought about it?  How is joy a strength?  Is joy strong?  Is joy powerful?

            Sometimes we think just the opposite – that joy is a child’s virtue.  I know when I close my eyes and think about joy

             – I think about children – the children at the pre-school, who, when I come over to visit – just to check in – are so happy to see me – are so excited to show me their new shoes, or tell me about their baby brother, or their trip to the Coca Cola Factory in Atlanta!  Joy!  

            They are joyful. But then -- they don’t have to deal so much with life – at least – most of them don’t.

            Joy seems to be a luxury sometimes – for us adults – 

            it’s a serious world after all. 

             There are many wrongs to right, so much pain to heal, so much tragedy ….  A little bit of joy might be okay, but in moderation….too much seems wrong, and frivolous and even – naive …. 

            You know what they say about Pollyannas, and their annoying cheerfulness – their unrealistic idea that you can always find something to be GLAD about….

            Pollyanna…. I even rented that old movie this week –(Pollyanna) in an effort to understand Joy,   

            I remembered that this movie was one of my dad’s favorites – my goofy dad, who liked to tell the same joke over and over, and who made up his own words to songs.  

            Pollyanna was one of his favorite movies.  

            And I remembered again about the girl who played the “Glad Game” – who tried to find something to be glad about everywhere.  Her father taught her the game.

            They were missionaries, and they were poor, and they had to rely on charity.  One thing Pollyanna wanted more than anything else was a doll, but they didn’t have money for it.  

            So they waited for the charity boxes from the missionaries.  There was no doll – but there were a pair of crutches.  What was there to be glad about?  Pollyanna’s father told her that she could be glad – that she didn’t need the crutches…. That was the glad game.  To find something to be joyful about – even In a pair of crutches. 

            And the fruit of the Spirit is joy.  

            And the joy of the Lord is our strength.  But joy doesn’t seem to be that powerful.  It doesn’t even seem realistic, sometimes.  In our world.   In our time. And it probably didn’t seem to be realistic to the people of Israel in Nehemiah’s time either. 

            Nehemiah – the book where those words “the joy of the Lord is your strength” comes from.   

            Here’s the scene. It’s about the year 538 BC.  

            The Israelites have been in exile in Babylon and they have finally been allowed to come home. They came back to a temple in ruins and a city whose walls had been destroyed.  And in those days it was important for a city to be fortified to have walls.  So the exiles had a lot of work to do.  

            Under the guidance of the governor Nehemiah and the priest Ezra, they rebuilt the temple and they rebuilt the walls of the city – not easy tasks.  There were a lot of setbacks and arguments and it was hard to unify the people.  

            They were probably tempted to give up.  A lot of times.

            But finally, in today’s reading, the walls are finished, and the people are gathered by what is called the “Water Gate.”  You might call it a sort of resurrection – the resurrection of the city of Jerusalem –

            

            And while they are there they asked the priest Ezra to read to them from the scrolls of the Torah – the first five books of the Bible.  And we don’t know exactly what he was reading from the Torah –

            Just that they hadn’t heard the Word of God for a long time –

            And that while he was reading, he was explaining so that they could understand, and that while he was reading, they fell on their faces and wept.

            And that is when Ezra told them to get up, and stop weeping -- for the Joy of the Lord is your strength.

             Why were they weeping?  They had reason to weep.  

            Some people speculate that they wept because they realized how they had failed their God, and strayed from him.  

            They heard the word of God, and the law of God, and they could not find anything to be glad about. Not just because of the way the world was – a dangerous place – but because of the way they were – turning their backs on God – forgetting his promises, and their responsibility to bless the world.  

            They wept because they realized all these things – and all of them were true –

            But the priest Ezra told them the truth – That Joy is more powerful than tears – and that the Joy of the Lord – is the most powerful of all.

            Get up and realize that despite everything – God is still with you.  Get up and rejoice in the voice of God.  Get up and feast – and share what you have with others who have less. Get up and realize that you are alive….

            It can be like this for many in our own day.  

            Sometimes it seems like our religious institutions are crumbling.  People are abandoning their practice of the faith, churches are closing, the situations in our society are leading to a lack of mercy and compassion for others.  

            When we see how far we are from the Word of God, we might want to weep.  The tasks we face as a church as a big as anything faced by the people of God in Nehemiah’s day.  

            But the joy of the Lord is our strength too.  And if we stand in that joy, the work we must do will be done.

            The joy of the Lord is resurrection Joy.  It is the fruit of the Spirit.  

            It is the city of Jerusalem come back to life. 

             It is the gift of the word of God, the God who is still speaking to you, the God who still has a mission for you.  It is the gift of life – and it is the gift of the community – standing TOGETHER as they listen to the word of God.

            The joy of the Lord is our strength – and it is resurrection joy – and it is a communal joy. –We can give it to one another.  Pollyanna gave it to her community – where she came to stay – and they gave it back to her when she lost joy and felt she couldn’t go on.  

            The fruit of the Spirit is joy.   Resurrection joy.  

            We give it to one another. 

 

            Where have you seen joy this week?  Where do you find joy?

            I have a friend who has had cancer – who I have prayed for – and kept in touch with – and this week – I saw on video – I saw that she has been raising monarch butterflies – and releasing them.   

            Go out and look for joy this week!   And then come back to witness to the power and presence of God in the world.

            AMEN

            

Strengthening the Core

Shortly after I arrived here, one of the members of my congregation decided to go back to school.  It was a dream for her.  She wanted to be a personal trainer.  She wanted to help other people be healthier.

When she finished, she asked if a few of the members of my congregation would be her first students.  She would train us, and also learn from us so that she could improve her teaching skills.

So, nearly every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, I stay at church for an extra forty-five minutes to do the "Work-out of the Day."  We use weights sometimes, we do step up exercises, we even tried a hula hoop a couple of times (something at which I am an abysmal failure.)  We have tried walking with these stretchy binders on our legs (our trainer calls it the 'monster walk').  We always end with a one-half mile walk.

These are not hard exercises.  But some of them have been hard for me.

I have never been the athletic type.  I just didn't feel like I was good at athletics.  (I'm more the bookstore and library type).  And in our culture, it's important to be good.  The one exception was swimming, which I loved, even though I was not an exceptional swimmer.  I enjoyed being in the water, and I didn't feel like I was competing with anyone.

So here I am, every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, with my water bottle and my yoga pants, doing standing jumping jacks and bicycle crunches, step ups and all kinds of unfamiliar exercises.  Our instructor will tell us what a particular exercise will help with sometimes.  And it took awhile before I started to recognize a familiar phrase:  This exercise will strengthen your core.

I have realized that this is what I need: a stronger core.

It's not all about wanting to look thinner and trimmer.  I won't lie; that's part of it.  But I realize that with a stronger core, our bodies just work better.  I'm remembering what happened to my mother-in-law a few years ago.  Little by little, she became unable to get herself out of a chair.  What we realized was that she was trying to do it entirely with the strength in her arms.  In order to get up, she actually needed a number of different muscle systems, working together:  arms, legs -- and of course, the muscles in our "core."

With a stronger core, our bodies just work better.

What's your core?  Someone asked me this last weekend.

Maybe there's another way of asking it.  What is it that holds everything together for you, makes everything work better?  What's at the center of your life, and is it strong? For me, I suppose it is poetry and prayer and time for reflection.  What's your core?  How can you strengthen it?

I think this is important for individuals, but also for congregations.  What's at the center of your life, as a congregation, and is it strong?  How can it be stronger?

At the heart, to me, strengthening the core is about trusting God.  The only way we can strengthen it is to practice.  One exercise at a time.  The exercises might not be the same for all of us, but the core we strengthen is the same.

Our instructor wants us to do a 5K walk or run, sometime this fall.  We aren't ready yet.  But if we take small steps, if we strengthen our core, perhaps we can do it.

Sermon for Pentecost: "Whose Spirit Is it Anyway?"

Acts 2:1-21; Numbers 11:24-30

“Whose Spirit is it, anyway?”  2017

           

            I don’t know if you have noticed much, but we have been lighting a particular candle every week since Easter

            We have been lighting this beautiful, large candle, the one right here in front of the altar, every week. 

            But today is the last Sunday we will light it for a long time.

            There is something sort of sad about this for me. 

            I love light, and candles, and fire (as long as it’s safe). 

            I love a good campfire, when we are sitting around in the dark sharing stories, singing songs, whispering prayers. 

            And what does it mean, anyway? 

            What does it mean that we light this candle, and that after today we won’t light it any more?

            It has something to do with Jesus’ resurrection – but Jesus is still risen, so why would we not just go on and light this candle every single week? 

            That wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it? 

            We would light the candle and remember what we said on Easter, that “Christ is risen” and we would all answer, “He is risen indeed.”

            But we don’t do that.

            And to find out why we have to go back.. we have to go way back… we have to go REALLY far back to the book of Numbers in the Old Testament,

            to the story about Moses and the 70 elders that we read this morning.

             This story takes place while the people of Israel are wandering in the wilderness.

             They are wandering in the wilderness, and it’s going to take them awhile to get to the promised land.

             They are wandering and they are hungry and they are complaining to God. 

            Even Moses is complaining, because he’s feeling the weight of being the leader of all of these people, and there’s only one of him. 

            So God is hearing all of this grumbling and complaining, and he gives the people food – manna and quail, to be specific – and he also finds some leaders who will share Moses’ spirit – 70 of them to be exact.         So Moses would not have to do everything all by himself. 

            There were others. 

            And God put some of the Spirit on them, and they prophesied.  But Just once.

            But there’s this odd thing that happens. 

            There are 70 people who are in the authorized place, who prophesy. 

            But there are these two, Eldad and Medad, who are not where they are supposed to be, and they prophesy too.   (light a couple more candles). 

            And it seems that there is some anxiety about this.  Somehow the rules are not being followed.

             Someone is getting some Spirit who shouldn’t be getting the Spirit. 

            And we should stop this from happening! 

            But Moses actually is not bothered about this at all, and says instead that he wishes that ALL of God’s people would be prophets.

            Prophets.  What does it mean? 

            Moses wishes all of God’s people would be prophets. 

            I’ll bet you never thought of that as a name for yourself. 

            Child of God.  Yes.  Image of God.  I hope so.

             Sheep of the shepherd, Living stone?  But prophet? 

            What does it mean? 

            It does have something to do with this light right here. 

            And it has something to do with spirit.  Light and spirit. 

            They go together. 

            And God wishes that all of God’s people would be prophets. 

            Has wished it for a long time.

             Ever since the wilderness, when the Spirit spilled out – just for a little it – on Eldad and Medad. 

            To be a prophet.  We still think it has something to do with foretelling the future sometimes, having a crystal ball, when it has more to do with speaking God’s truth. 

            Dreaming God’s dreams.  Seeing God’s visions.  Carrying God’s light.

            Yes.  (light a couple of candles).

            Being able to having enough light to see the love of God, and share it… To carry the spirit of God, the spirit that raised Jesus from the dead – and in some way or another – to share it. 

            To bring light where there is darkness.  Light where there is death.  Hope where there is despair.

             That’s what it means to be a prophet.

            So.  This brings us to today. 

            Pentecost Sunday.

            On that day the disciples were all together in a room.  They were waiting. 

            On that day there were people gathered in Jerusalem, because it was  a Jewish festival 50 days after Passover. 

            So they were already gathered for one purpose. 

            But while the people were gathered, and while the apostles were waiting, the wind blew so hard everyone could hear it and the tongues of fire danced so brightly that they could see it, and there was light and there was noise, and the apostles were ALL like Medad and Eldad –

            It wasn’t just one person testifying – they were all testifying.

            There wasn’t just one person who held all of the spirit. 

            There were all of these people sharing the spirit. 

            And there wasn’t just one person who was bearing the light.  They were all bearing the light  All of them.

            That’s what Pentecost was.

            The dreams and visions of God, now a part of the disciples.

            The light of God.  Now a part of the didsciples.

            The spirit of God – the spirit that raised Jesus from the dead – now a part of the disciples.

            (I shared the story of the two men in Portland who stood up for the teenage girls who were threatened, and the last words of one who said, “Tell everyone on this train that I love them.”  I said this was his one prophecy.)

            So after today, the light of this candle will be extinguished.  We won’t be lighting it any more.  You can come back here and unless there is a baptism – the candle won’t be lit.  And if you have ever wondered why

            Here’s why that it

            Because the light is in you now.  

            The Spirit is in you.

            It is you who go out into the world, to be light and hope and love to people who so much need to know, need to feel, need to see it.

            It is you who feed the hungry, it is you who lay hands on the sick, it is you who tell about God’s mighty acts, not only in the Bible but in your life.

            But here’s the thing:  remember that the light you bear – starts here.

            Not in this sanctuary, exactly, but in this gathering, among this people, and with the one who died and rose.

            We gather in grace, grow in Grace – and Go in Grace – and it is God’s grace that fills us.

            It is not your life, not your power, not your spirit, but the Spirit of God lives in you.

            Your small candle is a part of this large candle, and even though we can’t see it – the light still shines.

            AMEN

The Meaning of the Light

We're coming up on Pentecost Sunday, and I am thinking of light.

More specifically, I am thinking of a particular light (or is it fire?) -- the light coming from the Paschal candle, the large festival candle that we light the seven Sundays of Easter up through Pentecost.

On Sunday, we will light the Paschal Candle one last time.  Then we will not light it again (except for funerals and baptisms) until we light the new fire in the darkness before Easter morning.

What does it mean?  Do we notice the light of the small fire while it is present?  Do we notice its absence in the sanctuary during the rest of the year?  I wonder.

We used to extinguish the candle on "Ascension Sunday", when Jesus meets his disciples on the mountain one last time.  He gives them instructions.  He tells them to wait for the Spirit.  And then he ascends.  He goes up.  He disappears from their sight.  And in that moment when Jesus disappears from their sight, we paused for a moment, and we extinguished the paschal candle.  The flame, like Jesus, disappeared.  And just like the disciples, now we do not see Jesus any more.  For forty days after his resurrection, he appeared to them, talked to them, taught them, showed them his hands.  And then… he disappeared.

Is that what it means, then?  The light of this candle?  It means the visible presence of the resurrected Jesus. We light it on Easter, and for seven Sundays afterwards.  But after Pentecost, we don't light it any more.  Because Jesus doesn't appear to us.

The light is the flame of his life.  Is that it?  But why do we only light it for seven Sundays of the year?  Sometimes I wonder.

I arrived at my first parish in the middle of the summer.  One of the first questions I was asked, at the little country church, was "When do we stop lighting the candle?"  The instructions they read said that they were supposed to light it through Pentecost, and as far as they could tell, it was still Pentecost.   It was mid-July, and they were still lighting the candle every Sunday.

Was that so wrong?

Anyway, we don't extinguish the candle when Jesus ascends any more.  We keep it lit until Pentecost.  We keep it lit until the tongues of fire dance on the disciples heads.  But then we stop.

What does it mean?  What does it mean that we light the candle, but then we stop lighting it?  Do we notice its presence, and do we notice its absence?  Perhaps if there were more darkness, the light of the candle, the fire that dances for seven Sundays up until today, would stand out more.

Sometimes I do wish we could light it all the time.  Why not?  But there is something necessary about lighting a candle for a time, and then not lighting it again.  There is something true about it, too.  The light does shine in the darkness, but we do not always notice it.  The light does shine in the darkness, but there are times when Jesus feels absent to us.

As for me, I wish we would notice.  I wish we were more able to notice the small things, the light coming from the single candle, and how suddenly, after today, there will no longer be a visible flame.  But there's something else too, something else.

I wish we would notice the presence…. the presence of the flame, the flame dancing in each and every one of us, every broken bruised one of us, bearing the light of His life, now.  After Pentecost, I pray that we will notice that the light still shines.  Only now, the light shines in us, bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks, failures and successes, God's only plan for spreading of love and grace and freedom and hope in the world.