Making Glad the City of God; Sermon, July 9, 2017

Matthew11:16-19, 25-30

Psalm 46

Sermon:  Making Glad the City of God

Good Morning!  It sure is nice to see all of your faces today – I feel like I’ve been gone for much longer than I was for the 31^st General Synod of the United Church of Christ.  Rather than my usual sermon, what I have to offer this morning is more of a reflection on the goings-on of Synod.

Like a good worship service, Synod is always themed with a particular scripture, and this year it was pulled from the 46^th Psalm, which you’ve probably recited in memorials or other trying situations – it begins with that comforting familiar phrase, God is our refuge and our strength.  The Psalmist must have been writing in a time of extreme suffering and anxiety, because the language used paints a vivid picture;

“though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

3 though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.”

And he doesn’t stop there – it’s not just the natural world in commotion, but humans too;

“The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; [God] utters his voice, the earth melts.”

Two types of the threats seem to challenge God's rule: cosmic disorder\ and political ones, those nations who seek to destroy God's people . In the ancient world, water was often used to denote existential chaos and danger.  We see this in the first chapter of Genesis, when on the first day, God parts and subdues the water to create order out of the uncontrollable power and confusion of water.  It sounds like the Psalmist is describing earthquakes and volcanoes, Tsunamis and floods. 

Both of these forces are representation of the chaos God has already conquered at creation and continues to keep at bay. It’s obvious that this was written in a time of great upheaval, worry and fear.  And yet, the Psalmist sings that God is with us within the chaos.

When I hear these phrases, they seem a lot more real than I would expect reading a 2000-year old document.  It’s not just the phrase about the ‘earth melting’… It’s hard to read about mountains shaking in the sea without conjuring up images of glaciers collapsing into the sea, or the earth changing without visualizing the epidemic of wildfires we’ve seen in the west.  Just yesterday I read that the Great Barrier Reef in Australia has officially been declared ‘dead’ – or bleached - due to rising sea temperatures. And the next verse seems just as fateful regarding our human affairs.  Nations are in an uproar across the Middle East, and are our kingdoms tottering on the brink of a nuclear war perhaps?  There is an awful lot to worry about, and these days, even if we try to ignore it, we are more connected than ever before.  Connected to each other, connected to happenings far across the globe.  Whether or not we ask for it, it’s difficult to avoid having world turbulence intrude on the Good Life on a regular basis. 

But the Psalmist assures us, God is with us.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus seems a little frustrated with ‘this generation’ for making assumptions. The crowds appear ready to judge only on the basis of the company they keep.  John the Baptist is a social misfit, much like the prophets of old.  Like a modern minimalist, he eschews social norms and spends time in the wilderness eating bugs and wearing minimal clothing.  People assume he is demon-possessed – or simply crazy.  You know, like vegans and people who live in tiny homes off the land.

Jesus, on the other hand, does the opposite.  He makes himself available and accessible, eats and drinks with the lower classes and stays in society - and is critiqued for the company he keeps. People assume he is a glutton and a drunkard.

The fact that people are quick to dismiss a person’s merits or worth based on who they hang with is as old as, well, the Bible.  We’ve all done it… in the very least, I know we all experienced at least one part of it in school, right?  Me myself, I am guilty of both.  I was part of the ‘band geek’ variety in high school.  Since marching in formation in ugly uniforms with funny hats during football games – the height of the social scene in high school – meant that I couldn’t hide my band geek status, instead I embrace it - defiantly.  Everyone remotely connected to the band geek crowd (this included choir geeks, theater geeks and maybe even Debate geeks by association) were part of my social family.  But, on the flip side, anyone I remotely perceived as in the ‘popular crowd’ I made huuuuge assumptions about.  I missed out on knowing a lot of really interesting people in high school because of my definitions of who was ‘in’ and ‘out’.

And, it’s not just school silliness, of course.  I’m pretty sure we all still do this… maybe it’s that neighbor down the street who has a bunch of friends who ride Harley’s… or the kid who hangs out with a crowd that look like hooligans… or maybe it’s someone from a different club, or a different team, or a certain political persuasion… 

Or a different church!  What guilt by association comes from being in the UCC?  In some circles, being in the UCC means we’re hopelessly liberal, vegan and live in tiny homes… or awesomely autonomous and make up our own rules.  When I was in college, someone tried to entice me into their Christian youth group by calling the UCC, ‘Unitarians Considering Christ’ with a derisive smile.  There are plenty of assumptions about the UCC.

But at Synod, I saw the wide spectrum of people and communities engaged with our denomination.  Just like in our pews, in our national denomination we have former Catholics and unchurched, Fundamentalists and Christian Scientists, and everything in between.  We have churches that are Open and Affirming towards LGBT people, and we have churches that identify as Evangelical, Conservative, Orthodox or Traditional – called ECOT for short.  We have a whole association of Calvin-based churches, and one for more Pentecostal churches that call their clergy ‘Bishops.’  We have conservative leaders, like the Rev. Ken Evitts of Northwest Hills Church outside of Omaha, and married gay pastors like Rev. Scott Jones of First Central in Omaha – who are extremely good friends despite their differing politics.  They can do this because they listen to each other, and they have a common goal; the health of the church.  We make an intentional effort to be united and uniting, and live in the richness and tension that is present from diverse lives, experiences, faiths and points of view.

Jesus points out that God's will has been made known in more than one way, through different kinds of mouthpieces.  What are our expectations of a prophet's vocation or the messiah's behavior? And how do our expectations, and the little conditions they contain, prevent us from recognizing the will of God in human form?

Two of the most moving moments at the 31^st General Synod involved teens.  The UCC was intentional this year in integrating youth and young adults into all the business of Synod.  Every conference was encouraged to recruit youth or young adults to attend.  Like me, youth and young adults were assigned a working committee on one of the resolutions before the assembly, and they attended business meetings and provided testimony during the large group proceedings.  Some of those youth came to the microphone regarding the Resolution calling for our government to lift the ban on researching gun violence from a public health perspective.  And it was harrowing to hear their stories.  A young man from out west related how a Facebook comment tipped off a classmate to another classmate’s state of mind.  When police investigated her home, they found bombs, guns and ammunition prepared for a mass casualty event.  Then a young woman from Kansas explained about the live-shooter drills they do at their school; that police officers fire blanks at them in mock situations while they hustle for barricades and exits.  You could hear the emotion in her voice when she explained how frightening these drills are for the kids.

And then, the next morning, the microphone was again turned over to a group of teens from Chicago.  They related how they were in line the day before when debate was curtailed, and wanted to speak to the issue.  Gun violence had impacted every single one of them, as well.  One of the speakers lost a brother last year.  The second talked about dodging bullets daily on his way home from school. A young woman shared that three of her friends had been claimed by gun violence.  These youth were mostly from Trinity United Church of Christ on Chicago’s south side.  Both groups stole the collective breath of the assembly. Both groups pleaded with the adults in the room to do something about this phenomena that is impacting all their lives.

Jesus’ words this morning remind us not to put prophets in a box, because they rarely meet our expectations, but to open our ears more like infants.  And that’s what we try to do at Synod. 

The lasting impression Synod leaves you with in this tumultuous and highly partisan time is that civility and dialogue in regard to emotional and contentious issues are not only possible, but are valued and valuable.  We discussed contentious issues like whether the US should offer assistance to die for terminal patients; climate change; corporal punishment; the $15 minimum wage; children living under Israeli military law; and of course, the most important and contentious of all – what requirements must people fulfill to become an ordained minister.  And, to be truthful, we had quite a difference of opinion on most of those, but we were still able to come to a vote without name-calling, or accusations, or even celebrating the vote.  The moderator repeatedly asked the assembly to hold their cheers after each vote, because it was not a competition with victors, it was being the body of the church. 

(I’m sure this makes it sound incredibly dry… but in a way, it was refreshing and inspiring to be one of 5000 people gathered to listen for God’s still-speaking voice through the experience and concerns of those around us.)

The scripture chosen by the denomination was not all of Psalm 46, but a small line in the middle of it; “there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.”  I confess, going into Synod, I had trouble understanding why that verse was the verse chosen as our theme.  But, after the successful conclusion of the 31^st Synod, now I think I understand. Because while the mountains are trembling, and the earth is changing, and the seas are foaming and threatening to bring chaos to our midst, there is a stream, a small...refreshing…tame…a saving flow of water that doesn’t drown us or flood our homes or beat down on us like Niagara Falls.  Rather, it is an orderly and managed source of strength and sustenance.

And maybe God is made happy by this minutaea, by these people acting orderly to nourish and sustain our community, the church. So that we can prayerfully and respectfully agree to speak with one voice, and as our tradition has done since the founding of this country, we still strive to speak the gospel to the modern day.

There was another moment that stood out during Synod. A moment when you could feel the emotion in the room. It was so powerful that it was repeated the next morning, because we in the United Church of Christ are United and Uniting so that we may one day be one - and it’s something we take seriously. 

The moment happened at the close of business on Monday night.  Apparently elated by how well business was proceeding, the Moderator broke out in a spontaneous singing of that favorite hymn….

We are one in the spirit, we are one in the lord.  We are one in the spirit, we are one in the lord.  And we pray that our unity will one day be restored.  And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love, yes they’ll know we are Christians by our love.

Amen and Amen.

When Truth Makes Us Uncomfortable; Sermon, June 25, 2017

Jeremiah20:7-13
Matthew 10:24-39

Sermon: When Truth Makes Us Uncomfortable

On my way out of Chicago, while taking the train to O’Hare airport, a man walked onto the train car and began telling his truth to the whole car.

If you live in Chicago, you’ve seen this before.  Technically it’s not allowed by the CTA, but often, and especially at rush hour, people down on their luck will come on the train and announce that they are in need, they are hungry, they just need a little to get home, that every little bit helps, and walk up and down the aisles hoping to collect people’s loose change. 

It’s both a smart strategy to reach a lot of people all at once, and an uncomfortable reminder as so many of us are riding home thinking about our dinner plans with friends, or grocery shopping, or television show list for the night that we are blessed, and this would be an opportunity to share our blessings.

(And inwardly, we usually groan and try to find something to stare at on the floor or out the window, so we don’t have to meet the eyes of the person asking for money.)

This man caught my attention because he was different.  Although he was just wearing a t-shirt and pants, he wasn’t dirty or smelly.  While it was clear he hadn’t shaved in quite a while, he didn’t have any of the visible signs of long-term homelessness – he wasn’t missing teeth, or limping, or showing any indicators of substance abuse.  More than that, the man was proud.  He stood tall, spoke in complete sentences, was respectful but was not apologizing for his existence.  He wasn’t there to pathetically beg, he was there to reasonably afflict. 

He said, ‘ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt your commute, but I am homeless. I am looking for work.  I thought perhaps there might be a hiring manager somewhere on this train.  I am able-bodied, and here asking for your help.  Does anyone know of someone hiring?  I was staying at a shelter, but the shelters all have bed bugs.  I’m trying to get into a room but I need to raise $12 in order to get a bed tonight.  I am willing to work, but I will need to raise $19 for bus fare for the commute.  People never think about how much it costs to be homeless.  They don’t think about how much it costs to go back and forth for food, and beds, and services and searching for work.  They don’t think about the bed bugs, and I wanted you to know.  I am ready and willing to work, and looking for a referral.  People always think the homeless are addicts or criminals, but here I am, telling you that I am healthy and not an addict and just need a job.  Can anyone on this train help me find a job?  I also need a toothbrush.  Can anyone help me with a toothbrush?’

This man wasn’t just seizing an opportunity to ask for money. There was some real burning criticism in his words.  Especially because, in my former state of Illinois, a political stalemate between the Speaker of the House and the Governor has led to a failure to agree on a state budget for over 2 years. Without a budget, the state is just not paying its bills.  Debt is climbing exponentially by the month, the credit rating of the state has been downgraded to ‘junk status’, and social service organizations from all regions have been forced to close their doors because they haven’t been paid in 2 years.  So, under these conditions, it’s easy to imagine that shelters have bedbugs, and agencies that might help with housing or employment are no longer serving people like him.  This man was just dropping a little uncomfortable truth into the minds of people who are insulated from his experience. 

As I was already thinking about the scripture for today’s sermon, I wondered if that man’s name was Jeremiah.

The call of the Lord is an uncomfortable one.  Jeremiah shows us just how uncomfortable it can be. Jeremiah had a lonely life in a time of great social upheaval.  He has the unpleasant task to warn the people of Jerusalem that the city was to be destroyed by the kingdom of Babylon.  Jeremiah will live through the year that is so defining in the Jewish experience – the destruction of the temple in 587 BCE and the first exile.  By failing to uphold God’s covenant and be God’s people, Jeremiah is certain that their fate is sealed.  He is compelled to speak against Jerusalem and encounters hostility as a result.  On the other hand, when he decides to stop speaking, the word of God burns inside of him, and he has no peace then either. 

Jeremiah shares not only his message, but also details of his experience as a messenger. He is known by historians to be “the weeping prophet”.  The prophet's pain is on display for all to see. Hiding from neither God, himself, nor the reader, Jeremiah refuses to be silenced by any who would rather turn away, by any who would prefer to reject him and tune out his message. Jeremiah was given a gift – he was given a sight, an understanding, a conscience.  It would have been an abdication of his responsibility to be silent.

Responding to the call of God can be uncomfortable, but it’s a burning in your bones.  It’s an undeniable screaming of your conscience.  There was a provocative quote on Facebook recently that spoke to this:

“I screamed at God for the starving child until I saw that the starving child was God screaming at me.”

Jeremiah could hardly quiet his screaming conscience – and if he did, it would have been an abdication of his responsibility to respond to God’s call. 

We live in a world that has already broken the demands of God’s covenant, to love God, and love one another as Jesus loved us.  We live in a world that more often than not ignores the cries of the widow, the orphan, and the homeless guy on the train.  We live in a world where someone always profits from the conflict between the police and the poor, between the worker and shareholders, between the sick person and the insurance company that doesn’t want to pay for medical care.  And those powers are so powerful that when that doesn’t seem to be enough, they go further, press for more power, reach for more profit.

On Thursday, the Senate released the health care bill they hope to replace Obamacare. In their efforts to bring down the monthly premiums for the average person, this bill shifts those costs to even higher deductibles, smaller subsidies, less guaranteed coverage for marketplace enrollees, the ability to discriminate against people who have costly medical conditions, and older people.

But more critically, hidden deeper in the bill is a gutting of Medicaid - the health program that has for decades served poor children, the elderly, and people with disabilities.  Medicaid is what paid the bills for my grandmother during the 6 years of dialysis at the end of her life.  Medicaid is what kicks in when my friend Kath, the one with cancer, becomes too sick with chemo-related side effects to go to work. In fact, Medicaid is the only reason she’s alive at all. Medicaid has provided health insurance for children and women who have children, but leave childless men and young people without children in a lurch.

Until the ACA. The ACA provided a whole bunch of federal funding to allow states to expand this program, and Medicaid enrollment represents about half of the 23 million people who are considered newly insured – including 441,300 Veterans. You may not realize this, because the state of Nebraska is one of 19 states that didn’t take the money to expand Medicaid.  But in Illinois, I met dozens of people who were, sometimes for the first time in their lives, able to take care of their health.  This was because for the first time, the ACA made it possible to sign up for Medicaid based on income only, not gender or children.  This meant that a lot of the people who lived on the street could see a doctor.  People like the homeless man on the train, or a Veteran dealing with PTSD, or others trying to manage diseases while homeless; young men and women who were runaways or people who aged out of the foster program; low-income students and grad students and people doing seasonal work and people with addictions who are desperate for treatment; the expansion of Medicaid appeared like a new doorway in their lives. And it’s a door that will be closed again under this new bill.

The Senate health care bill would roll back all these expansions beginning in 2021– but not stop there.  After 2024, the amount the federal government funded would slow, and not be adjusted for increases in population or need.  Effectively, it would be a net reduction in funding, forcing states to eventually narrow the eligibility, decrease benefits, or push people off of Medicaid completely. Where they go from there, I have no idea.

Who is deserving of good health?  Who is deserving of being able to pay for their health?  If you are sick, is it your fault?  Do we have any responsibility as a society to care for our neighbor’s health?  Does God’s covenant with His people involve caring for their well-being?

For me, this is where I feel the burning fire shot up in my bones.  This is when I cannot stay silent; when I see vulnerable people be treated as if they are disposable, as if we can’t see their needs as human needs, as if their health coverage isn’t a major factor in whether they will ever be able to stand on their own two feet…I cannot let it pass.  Our choice to be in covenant with God is a pledge to love God with all our heart, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

In our Gospel today, Jesus says he comes not to bring peace, but the sword. It’s not a comfortable moment when we hear those words from the man we know to be love incarnate.  But it can be uncomfortable to claim that every human life matters in the face of powerful forces that will, unconsciously at best, profit off of the suffering and deaths of the weak and infirm.  If we demand that our leaders see humans the way God sees humans, those leaders who are charged with shrugging off our responsibility to others will turn on you, and that will bring division.

But if we ignore the details of this law, ignore the scream of a hungry child, ignore the fire in our bones or the pricks of our conscience, then WE are abdicating our responsibility as God’s people.

If we are truly trying to be God’s people, we must keep the covenant that requires seeing God, that heart, that core of humanity, in each person.  And if we have it in our power to be sure they get life-saving treatment, maybe life-changing treatment, how do we profess to love God and follow his healer Son if we ignore those same needs?

We can pretend it’s not happening, but someday down the road it may be your neighbor, your best friend, your daughter, or your mother or father who pays the price for this retraction of health care for the most vulnerable.  For as the scripture said, the hairs on every head are counted, and God’s eye is on us.