Sunday, March 6, 2016

'Nourishment': Sermon from February 28, 2016

Scripture
Luke 13:1-9 Common English Bible Version

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?

This familiar question greeted me when I started to study the texts for today’s sermon, because I have used it over and over again in my work. 

Just a little about me:  I grew up not too far away in Crystal Lake and now live in Chicago.  I’m a candidate for ministry in the UCC and I know Pastor Alex because he served on the Candidacy committee as I journeyed through the process. 

But over the last few years, much of my career and expression of faith has occurred through my work at an agency with a looong name.  It is a partnership between Advocate Health Care and the University of Illinois at Chicago’s Community Engagement department, and it is called the Center for Faith and Community Health Transformationconveniently referred to as just  “The Center”. Reflecting on the scripture this morning, I can’t help but weave small details of our work at “the Center” into how this scripture speaks to me and through me. Health and faith are intimately entwined, and the work at the Center is based on the recognition of that fact.

In faith communities, our Christian faith calls us to serve the needs of the least among us and we do it well—visiting the sick, hosting Anonymous groups, offering meal programs, providing emergency care and comfort---all of these services on both an individual and a community basis.  We at The Center strive to build connections between faith communities and health programming; we develop leaders in congregations, and we offer resources and support for health initiatives. The Center exists because we recognize that congregations are already supporting healing and wholeness in their communities through basic social connection and support.  As individuals, much of our health status results from the environment in which we live, and faith communities can act as a healing balm and a first line of defense against the socio-economic determinants of health.  At the Center, we know that faith-rooted collaboration brings a unique spirit power to any effort, and has the potential to be transformative not only for individuals but for the larger community.

(Ok, now that I’ve gotten that commercial out of the way… it’s hard to describe the Center in brief…)

My work with the Center focuses on inspiring healthy eating and active living as related to disease prevention – to help people analyze how faith and religious tradition informs our eating habits. Because we are in an unprecedented time of people not thinking about eating.  For the first time in human history, we have unlimited access to compact, portable, highly processed and high-calorie food, and the concept of ‘eating on the run’, ‘refueling’, or ‘grabbing on the go’ has taken root in how we eat.

In contrast, sharing a meal has long been an important religious tradition.  From the Manna God sent from Heaven to sustain the Israelites, to the Last Supper, to slaughtering a fatted calf; sharing meals has been how we as a people have marked occasions, celebrated loves ones, and shown gratitude to God.  And we continue to echo these important traditions today – with Holy Communion in Christianity, Passover in Judaism, Rosh Hashannah in the Muslim faith – and of course, Thanksgiving.

We actually have a curriculum called “Just Eating” which is used in the training of congregations, and Prophet Isaiah’s words are used in an exercise called Lectio Divina.  In a Lectio Divina, a specific scripture is spoken aloud  – a sort of repetitive group reflection asking questions like, ‘how is God calling to you through this scripture?’ As you can imagine, this Isaiah text resonates deeply.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Come to the waters, even you without money; come, eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.

How does this text speak to you?

Today we are in the 3rd Sunday in Lent.  The Christian season of Lent is often depicted as a time when we wrestle with temptation and discipline; we are challenged to give up something we love, and then struggle against the hold it has on us.  Some people relate this to the temptations of Christ during this time; others talk about it as a time to think about how attached we are to the material world over the spiritual world.  

In our Gospel, we hear Jesus encourage people to ‘repent’.  He tells us life is precarious, it is uncertain – we have no way to know when tragedy might befall us. Responding with urgency, Jesus encourages us to seize the moment to turn away from our bad habits, our bad qualities. Right?

 Actually, scholars have called this translation – repent – as an extraordinary mis-translation of the original Greek term, ‘Metanoia’.  Whereas ‘repent’ is often associated with guilt, shame, regret, or apology, Metanoia is closer to the word metamorphosis. Meta means change, and noia denotes thinking or mindset.  Metanoia is about personal and comprehensive transformation in the way we see ourselves and the world. 

Jesus is calling his followers to do a whole-scale transformation of their perceptions.  Stop looking for people to blame to avoid looking inward, he says.  It was not Divine retribution responsible for the violence against Galileans or the collapse of the tower of Siloam.  Life itself is precarious – but while you yet have life, itself a gift from God, transform yourselves so you can produce fruits of the spirit and be gifts to others.

I look at Lent as a time of invitation – and invitation to thirst.  Thirst and hunger for God.  Lent calls us to "seek the Lord" and to "call upon him.”  The invitation, though, is to do more than simply drink from the waters.  It is to participate in the work of God. The transformation that is requested is directed at more than simply our personal temptation or discipline.  God invites us to begin a transformation in our interior selves, but that change continues in our thoughts, words and deeds. This type of transformation has implications for all of God's world. Each effort towards metanoia has ripple effects on those around us.  In my work, taking a serious look at considering our bodies holy, and considering what we put in our body as sacred, often leads people to look at what food they are offering at their food pantry or community dinner.  It may transform the way we choose to feed each other, and the time we put into our meal preparation – whether that be for low-income strangers or our own grandkids.  Through this personal transformation, we are encouraged to nourish others on their journey.

So I want to invite you to do something a little unorthodox – to participate in my sermon.  In the Just Eating Curriculum, we ask what you consider a “holy meal.”  What makes a meal ‘holy’ or sacred to us?  Why?  What about that meal was nourishing?

Turn to your neighbor in the next two minutes an share when you felt you had a ‘holy meal’ and what it was that made it holy.

I don’t want to stand up here and pretend that it’s only food that matters. Are there distractions in our lives that get in the way of being nourished?  Are we consuming things that do not satisfy? 

Last week, I heard Pastor Alex introduce your new music director, and at coffee hour I heard him share some innovative ideas for how to do choir and make it fit into our busy lives.  I did a lot of music when I was young – I was actually in band with Brent in high school.  And my church had one of the best choirs in our town.  It was more rigorous than the choral program at school, and it kept me in church every Sunday during the school year– sometimes in both services!  Music was the constant for me for all of those formative years – singing every Wednesday and Sunday and attending band at school Everyday. 

Since leaving home, I haven’t had the opportunity to integrate music into my life with regularity.  I joined a Chicago band for a year, and a church until I moved away.  I missed it but didn’t think it mattered.  It wasn’t until I was far along in Seminary that I started to detect the connection for me between music and God. 

Have you ever been to an arid, hot part of the world where you see signs that say, "'Stop! Drink water. You are thirsty, whether you realize it or not.'"  Sometimes we don’t realize how thirsty we are.



I started to notice whenever I was in church or chapel at school, or especially when I’d visit home and attend church with my parents, that in the middle of a song for absolutely no reason at all – I’d often start to weep. It’s the oddest thing….and kind of embarrassing because it’s pretty hard to sing when you are crying!  I tried to figure what was causing this… but eventually I realized it was, simply, prayer.  For me, singing is the purest form of prayer.  It is the most beautiful way I can participate in praising and communing with God. I thirst for it in a way that I only recognize when I get close to church.  Its transformative; it brings me an internal type of joy that I cannot replicate in any other way, because it was so closely entangled with my religious experiences as a child. Obviously, I was thirsting for a spiritual connection without even realizing I was parched.


In your life, how are you fed? ... physically fed, but also emotionally, spiritually and mentally?  What are you thirsty for?  Where is your joy? What do you have in your life that brings you closer to God, or farther away?  There is something inherent in our faith that is transformative…it had better change you and change the world, and if it’s not changing you and not changing the world, then it’s not the gospel. During this time in Lent, God invites us to reflect on how we are nourishing ourselves and nourishing the world.  Rather than fill your time with that which keeps you busy or occupied but unfulfilled, why not reflect on how to delight on that which is good, and that which adds goodness to the world?

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