Ivy Anthony - Reservoir Church

“See Here,” Sowing Seeds of Truth

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve taken up walking to a coffee shop very early in the morning. I timed it so that I would arrive just as the place is opening. And on two mornings a week, I usually run into an old friend of mine who is also trying to get a coffee before she heads off to her therapy practice.

Our moments of catching up are brief. I mean, both of us haven’t had any caffeine yet, so there are only so many coherent words we can string together. But recently she asked,

“So how are things in your world?”

and for a few seconds, I just paused—doing the mental checklist of ALLLLLLL the things happening in my inner world, in my personal life, and in the bigger world around me. And after a moment, I landed on,

“You know, we’re getting by—we’re standing up.”

And she—being a therapist—read that pause (and the panic and the attempts to de-panic that raced across my face), and she said,

“See here. When the macro is as dark as these days, the micro needs to be softer.”

We “cheers’d” our coffees, with that prayer hanging between us, and went on with our day.

We began this sermon series on Radical Hospitality on January 5th—just a few weeks ago, but it feels like January could have been a full decade ago! The world around us, the “macro,” has felt (in part), like a tornado of chaos. We don’t know where it will land, but we know it’s touching down and wreaking havoc, kicking up debris, dust, and uprooting good things—good things in us and around us.

And this is why this series on Radical Hospitality has felt so timely and timeless. It’s not only about welcoming people into our homes or churches; it’s about actively sowing truth into the landscapes we inhabit every day—in the micro and the macro. It’s about directly combating the forces of division, fear, and dehumanization that threaten it. It’s about recognizing the vulnerability of being alive and the need for compassion in a world that’s often hard and unforgiving.

To be alive is inherently vulnerable, isn’t it? Knowing that whatever storm is brewing, could touch down right in the center of our own lives—just as much as it does someone else’s. Radical Hospitality isn’t just a good idea—it’s an essential practice. It’s an active practice of sowing truth and mercy into the soil of our everyday lives, where we remember that the truth of who God is — our center, our core — is unshakeable, un-uprootable.

And when I think of the tension between chaos and truth/peace in our world, I’m reminded of a beautiful set of words by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who said,

“God has two outstretched arms—one is strong enough to surround us with justice and move us toward justice, and one is gentle enough to embrace us with tenderness and grace.”

This balance of justice and grace is what radical hospitality embodies—it’s the strength to face the storms of injustice and the tenderness to offer compassion to one another in the midst of it.

So, how do we live this out?
It’s what we’ve been exploring these last few weeks. How can we practice radical hospitality in a world determined to sow division and fear?

We will explore this together today — as we do, let’s ask ourselves:

How can we bring softness to the chaos?

How can we embody radical hospitality in our own lives today—no matter how stormy the world may BE and feel?

Prayer: God help us to call to mind the truth of who you are. The shelter from the storm — a refuge in turmoil — rest and peace in uncertainty.

To help us answer these questions, let’s turn to the wisdom of scripture. The prophet Isaiah spoke to a world in chaos and turmoil, much like the world we experience today, offering a vision of leadership and a just future. Let’s read together from Isaiah 32:1-8 as we look for guidance.

SCRIPTURE | Isaiah 32:1-8 (Common English Bible)

1 See here: A king rules to promote righteousness;
rulers govern to promote justice,

2 each like a shelter from the wind
and a refuge from a storm,
like streams of water in a wasteland,
like the shade of a massive cliff in a worn-out land.

3 Then the eyes of those who can see will no longer be blind,
the ears of those who can hear will listen,

4 the minds of the rash will know and comprehend,
and the tongues of those who stammer will speak fluently and plainly.

5 Then a fool will no longer be called honorable,
nor a villain considered respectable.

6 Fools speak folly;
their minds devise wickedness,
acting irreverently,
speaking falsely of the Lord,
leaving the hungry empty,
and depriving the thirsty of drink.

7 As for the villain, his villainies are evil.
He plans schemes to destroy the poor with lying words,
even when the needy speak justly.

8 But an honorable person plans honorable things
and stands up for what is honorable.

CONTEXT

There are a couple of points I want to draw out of this scripture this morning. The first of which is the simple phrase, “See here,” that starts us off.

It’s a phrase that immediately demands attention. In the midst of all that is swirling — God calls the people to pause, to stop, and to encounter the truth clearly. It’s an invitation to look beyond the chaos and the distorted narratives around them and to fix their gaze on what is just, true, and honorable.

I appreciate this because it becomes easy to absorb and be overwhelmed by the distaste in our days — to give focus and energy to that… . And harder to identify what truths might be getting lost in the noise around us. This phrase “see here” asks us to recalibrate.

During the period when Isaiah was prophesying, Judah was facing both internal and external pressures. The kingdom was under the threat of invasion from neighboring empires like Assyria, and internally, it was experiencing a decline in righteous leadership. Kings and rulers were often corrupt, and just horrible.

And there were just widespread injustices — the rich were exploiting the poor, and those in power were more interested in their own gain than the welfare of the people.

The ‘villain’ and the ‘fool’ mentioned in these verses of Isaiah were not just those who acted immorally in personal (micro) matters — they were political figures, leaders, who had distorted God’s vision for justice and love. As the passage puts it, they

‘spoke falsely of God.’

This false narrative of God—one that justifies oppression and exploitation—only deepened the pain of the marginalized.

When the kings of the time, when the rulers of the day distort the image of God, it doesn’t just lead to poor decisions, it activates harm, it compounds harm, it is violence. It creates a storm of confusion and despair, leaving people without hope or the resources they need to thrive. This is why, for those who were oppressed — Isaiah’s words were not only a rebuke to corrupt leadership but a hopeful vision for what true justice and righteousness could look like—when the truth of God — one who promotes good things(!) — is held at the center.

When the truth of who God is is distorted, all hell breaks loose. Sickness and despair take root, and systems of injustice become entrenched, keeping the vulnerable in bondage. The kin-dom of God here on earth becomes a quest to dismantle these systems of oppression and to restore the brokenness that false images of God have caused. It’s a radical invitation to participate in God’s kin-dom, to be the hands and feet of God’s love and justice in the world, and to embody that…..

“See here —

It matters how we talk/what we say about God, it matters what we believe of God, it matters how we embody the truths of God.

1 See here: A king rules to promote righteousness;
rulers govern to promote justice,

2 each like a shelter from the wind
and a refuge from a storm,
like streams of water in a wasteland,
like the shade of a massive cliff in a worn-out land.

Julia

Last month I attended the funeral of our 20 year old neighbor. She died unexpectedly of natural causes – home on Christmas break — at an unnatural age. The ripples of such unimaginable loss, disrupted life, and searing pain are now an unwanted part of the fabric of our neighbor’s household.

Death is its own horrific injustice. Grief its own perfect storm. One that whips up without warning, ambushes the rhythms of ordinary life. And, as I sat in the church pew at her funeral listening to story after story of friends and relatives and close family — her brother, her mother, her father, I braced myself for the final words of the pastor. I’ve been to many funerals where the opportunity taken by the pastor is to command everyone to

“Get right with God! Before your day comes!”

A grief-stricken audience, shaken by their own vulnerability and mortality, often becomes the perfect prey for a version of a God who seeks to threaten and control — rather than comfort and restore.

But this pastor got up and shared a few words I don’t remember fully — encouragement to the family and love for the family — and then, in much a way that mirrored the opening of these Isaiah verses, he simply said,

“See here.” “See here.”

With such a gentle and confident cadence he went on,

“Our God is unshakeable,” “we serve a good God.”

“We serve a loving God, a God of comfort.”

“Our God will not leave us, our God is with us.”

Words I’ve heard and have SAID many a time before. But that morning, those words landed differently — they reverberated in my spirit as undeniable truths even as my mind and body in grief couldn’t fully absorb them. No one in that room could deny the grief, the overwhelm of what felt night-marish — yet, there was also a force of comfort and truth that was roused in our spirits as he said those words.

The truth of God can not be nuanced.

We need that truth — sown into our hearts. And WE need to actively sow that truth in the world around us. Because life does not often come to us in a nuanced fashion. It often comes with stark, unfiltered reality.

“See here. See here. Our God is unshakeable.”

These are the truths // the seeds we sow when we practice radical hospitality.

Point #2:

With the truth of God at our center, comes clarity.

A parting of the fog and bombardment in a storm.

And with clarity comes restoration and transformation.

Isaiah 32 doesn’t just promise righteous leadership, but also restoration of the entire social order. It promises that the

‘eyes of those who see will no longer be closed’, and the ‘ears of those who hear will listen.’

This speaks to a future clarity, a time when people will be able to discern truth from lies, and live with truth.

Many of these people had never experienced a world that wasn’t infused with oppression, injustice and violence. So familiar was this pain and suffering, that these evils became the very air they breathed. A people exhausted by deception and manipulation, by false prophets and misleading leaders.

So these words in Isaiah would have been an invitation to hope—a reminder that God’s justice is coming to set things right, and it is also about a radical transformation of society that plans honorable things and stands up for what is honorable — for a just society where the truth of God’s love becomes a guiding force for social transformation.

JESUS

In Jesus, the promise of Isaiah is realized:

the blind see, the deaf hear, and the oppressed are set free.

In three of the gospels we read the story of Jesus and his disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in a boat to escape the crowds.. Where they become caught in a literal storm — threatening to sink the boat and threatening to sink their belief in Jesus. The disciples had known Jesus to be a teacher, a miracle-worker, a healer, a prophet of sorts — but here Jesus reveals himself as the one who surrounds them with an unshakeable force of love. The one that says,

“See here” — “I am with you in the midst of upheaval and scary-things. “A shelter from the wind — and a refuge from the storm.”

Jesus’ dynamic presence in that story and storm — interacts with the disciples in real time, in real circumstances. His words and actions in the storm are not predetermined or scripted but showcase God’s responsiveness to our human needs and emotions. God is constantly working toward clarity, healing, and restoration. The storm on the Sea of Galilee is not only about Jesus calming the wind and waves, but about God revealing the truth of who God is—both powerful and compassionate—and inviting the disciples, and us, to partner in that restorative work as well. Calling us to be the good leaders who promote righteousness and promote justice.

Toward the end of this passage, in Isaiah 32:17-18, we hear a promise:

“The fruit of that righteousness will be peace; its effect will be quietness and confidence forever. My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.”

ALL OF US

When Isaiah speaks of peace, security, and undisturbed rest, it is a picture of the world as it is meant to be….. And Jesus’ invitation isn’t only for us to DREAM of that peace, or receive this peace, but to be agents of it —- to engage radical hospitality.

Jesus’ invitation to us is to help clarify the air.

YES — to mourn. Yes, to break out into tears when confronted with the absence or rupture of God’s truth and to use that ache, to disrupt and dismantle what is evil and breathe new life into beloved community.

And it’s why in part I believe we gather together here each week — to dream and gather strength to act –for a world we believe for, but don’t yet see. To still hope. To not give up on the God we think God is. To know God. To grow a deep knowing of God that becomes written in our bodies, our souls and our hearts as unshakeable truth.

See here. The practice of radical hospitality of sowing seeds of the truth of who God is— is not about stepping out of the motion of life and curating the perfect table or house or church meeting or whatever. It’s about embodying the love of God and stepping deeper INTO the fullness of our VERY REAL lives (whatever they might bring), WITH God — To know so deeply the love of God with such clarity — that we see it, hear it, speak of it — we can PRACTICE it wherever we go.

Howard Thurman says,

“The evil in the world around us must not be allowed to move from without to within. Drink in the beauty that is within reach, clothe one’s life with simple deeds of kindness, keep alive a sensitivity to the movement of the spirit of God. This is as always the ultimate answer to the great deception.

Just because “a lie is elected does not mean the truth disappears.” — Andrea Gibson

Don’t give up gathering with one another, encouraging one another. Engage in chit chat in line at the coffee shop, take pound cake and soup to grieving neighbors, say “hi” to a stranger — whatever it is — don’t give up on seeding the

“micro with the softness of God’s unshakeable truth.”

Radical hospitality puts our spirituality into practice — the truths of what we know, believe, experience, and hope of God — into the real world around us — storms and all.

The spiritual practice of radical hospitality is how we are called to live our lives.

It’s how we grow our capacity to love.

It’s how we grow stronger to love.

It’s how we grow more tender to love.

Again, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in his book Strength to Love says,

“God has two outstretched arms, one is strong enough to surround us with justice and [and move us toward justice], and one is gentle enough to embrace us with [tenderness] and grace.”

Divine justice and mercy are inseparable. And in our lives, this intertwining of strength and tenderness, justice and grace, wrapped in the truth of who God is —embodies the very essence of radical hospitality.

It is the call to extend God’s love through our very bodies and arms to others.

After years of driving in and around Boston I’ve developed what my kids call a “mom arm” — where I throw my arm across the passenger seat when we hit an unexpected stop or bump, or sideways threat — whether someone is sitting in the passenger seat or not. It’s an instinctual, protective-even, loving response in the midst of danger and uncertainty. I think it’s how God invites us to show up for people, how we offer care, and compassion—without hesitation, instinctively, because we know the truth of God’s love so deeply. This is how we sow seeds of truth, it’s how we become honorable people, who plan honorable things, and stand up for what is honorable….

And here’s where I want to close with an invitation to a tangible way of sowing truth *and peace* into the world around you — in your neighborhoods and city.

One of the ways we sow truth is by empowering others to know their truth, their inherent worth and dignity. To know their rights, their civil rights. And in a landscape right now where many citizens and non-citizens alike are feeling threatened, scared, confused we produced 10,000 Know Your Rights cards.

If you haven’ seen these cards before — they are small, RED informational cards that outline the legal rights of individuals, particularly immigrants, in the United States when interacting with law enforcement, including Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). They provide clear, easy-to-understand guidance on what people can and cannot do in various encounters with ICE or other authorities. We have them printed in Spanish, Portuguese, Haitian-Creole, English, Vietnamese and Chinese.

I know many of you work directly with immigrant communities in health, education, and shelter programs. In a conversation with one of you this past week, it became clear that these cards are running out in hospitals and other community settings. Given the widespread radius that the Reservoir community reaches —we have a unique opportunity to help distribute these cards to businesses, organizations, and individuals who need them most.

So if you want to please grab a stack on your way out today — drop them at your local public library, take an envelope of them to a local restaurant, or daycare, or health clinic — wherever it feels helpful in your neighborhood and community.

1 See here: A king rules to promote righteousness;

    rulers govern to promote justice,

2 each like a shelter from the wind

    and a refuge from a storm,

    like streams of water in a wasteland,

    like the shade of a massive cliff in a worn-out land.

3 Then the eyes of those who can see will no longer be blind,

    the ears of those who can hear will listen,

4 the minds of the rash will know and comprehend,

    and the tongues of those who stammer will speak fluently and plainly.

5 Then a fool will no longer be called honorable,

    nor a villain considered respectable.

6 Fools speak folly;

    their minds devise wickedness,

    acting irreverently,

    speaking falsely of the Lord,

    leaving the hungry empty,

    and depriving the thirsty of drink.

7 As for the villain, his villainies are evil.

    He plans schemes to destroy the poor with lying words,

    even when the needy speak justly.

8 But an honorable person plans honorable things

    and stands up for what is honorable.

17 The fruit of righteousness will be peace,

    and the outcome of righteousness,

    calm and security forever.

18 Then my people will live in a peaceful dwelling,

    in secure homes, in carefree resting places.

Prayer: God, I ask you to surround us with your arms of justice and grace now. Help us to know the truth of who you are, that you are always at work in the world. Help us to embody your love — teach us to live in such a way that this is reflected through us in the smallest and the largest of ways. May our lives be an act of radical hospitality, a witness to the truth of your love that is always inviting, always healing, and always present. Amen.

Just in Case

It’s the year 2025, everyone. I’m leaving out the adjectives “happy” and “new” intentionally—not out of negativity, but because they don’t entirely capture what I’m feeling as we gather this first Sunday of the year. But I’ve been reflecting on some of Audre Lorde’s words that do deeply resonate with me, she says:

“There are no new ideas—only new ways of making them felt.”

And that sentiment rings true (for me), as we step into 2025.

As I move into this year, it’s hard to ignore how much feels unchanged. The year has already begun in violence, heartbreak, fear, and grief. Wars rage on. New tragedies unfold in places like New Orleans. Lives are continuing to be lost. These acts of violence in part reflect how little we seem to care for one another.

And I find myself searching/spinning — thinking

“what are the new ideas that haven’t been tried? What’s going to help — quell the violence, mend the divisiveness, fix what feels broken in the world?”

But if I’m honest and take a gauge of my energy — I’m not exactly overflowing with fresh creativity or ideas. But Audre Lorde’s quote got me thinking of how much of a deep well of timeless truths we have in our faith. Truths like love, care, and hospitality—that are meant to feel powerful, transformative, and good. They aren’t new, but it seems like it might be time to revisit them with open hearts. To inspect them. To embody them in ways that reveal new depths and expressions — so that they can be felt anew.

I’m not one for resolutions, but I do believe in revisiting what God has already planted in us—reflecting on those truths, and asking ourselves:

How do we express them in new ways?
How do we embody the roots of our faith in a world that desperately needs love and care?

Well for the next eight weeks we are going to do that together! Today we start a new series called, “Radical Hospitality.” We’ll be delving into this topic until Lent, stretching our understanding of what it means to live and be called to be ‘people of hospitality.’

We’ll cover a variety of aspects: our internal posture – “the hospitality of the hear,” “the Divine hospitality of God extended to us,” our home in God, and we’ll think about our homes — and what it is to open them to welcome the stranger — how hospitality compels us to seek justice.

This isn’t new. But we need a fresh expression of it. A re-commitment, a practice of it.

The word “radical” means both a return to roots – to something fundamental and foundation — as well as a desire for revolutionary change.

And ‘hospitality’ shares linguistic history with the word, “hospital” – bringing healing to host as well as guest — both receiving something they need.

Radical hospitality is a return to the fundamental practice of welcoming God and welcoming others with open hearts. Creating a space for both guest and host to experience healing and transformation through God’s presence. It is a revolutionary shift in how we relate to one another, grounded in deep, rooted care for all.

Radical hospitality is a core quality of the Way of Jesus — it rejects the divisive ‘us v. them’ mentality (those who believe differently, vote differently or those we treat as “other”) and it helps us

“stand in radical solidarity with everyone and everything else.” (Richard Rohr)

I wonder if we can find new ways in this year ahead *together* — to express what we already know — that radical hospitality is a potent, necessary way of being in our time. That matters — and it matters right now…

And we should do something about it. Just in case…

Just in case it matters to those who feel lonely and isolated…
Just in case it matters to those who are defensive and afraid…
Just in case it matters to those who are vulnerable, unprotected…
Just in case it matters to your neighbor.
Just in case it matters to a stranger.
Just in case it matters to us.
Just in case it matters to God.
Just in case it matters to our world.

Just in case….

I recently came across a short story by Howard Thurman—a mystic, theologian, and civil rights leader—that I’d like to share as we begin today’s exploration of radical hospitality. It’s both a reflection and an experience he had, titled:

“The Desert Dweller”
He has lived in the desert so long that all of its moods have long since become a part of the daily rhythms of his life. But it is not that fact that is of crucial importance. For many years it has been his custom to leave a lighted lantern by the roadside at night to cheer the weary traveler. Beside the lantern there is a note which gives detailed directions as to where his cottage may be found so that if there is distress or need, the stranger may find help. It is a very simple gesture full of beauty and wholeness. To him it is not important who the stranger may be, it is not important how many people pass in the night and go on their way.
The important thing is that the lantern burns every night and every night the note is there, “just in case.”

Years ago, walking along a road outside Rangoon, Myanmar — I noted at intervals along the way a roadside stone with a crock of water and, occasionally, some fruit. Water and fruit were put there by Buddhist priests to comfort and bless any passerby — one’s spiritual salutation to another. The fact that I was a traveler from another part of the world, speaking a strange language and practicing a different faith, made no difference. What mattered was the fact that I was walking along the road — what my mission was, who I was — all irrelevant.

Now this story echoes a deep spiritual and communal practice of welcoming and supporting others. Light, water, fruit — a sustaining, life-giving hospitality that is not conditional but given freely, embodying both the physical and spiritual nourishment.

I’d love for you to think about how many times Jesus has offered you something (however you define that), “just in case” you needed it.

Maybe it was a light — or a smile, a phone call, a mercy, a bird song, a funny absurd something that caught your attention. A spark of motivation, a pain-free moment, a nap, a moment of quiet, a stream of a sunbeam, a verse, a lyric, a hand-held, a milky way (both in chocolate bar form and the cosmic variety).

Whatever comes to mind for you — it seems God’s gifts come with unreasonable precision. Not because we’ve checked every possible box or planned for every contingency, but because they’re rooted in a radical, generous hospitality. A ‘just in case’ that flows from a love and presence that’s steady, simple, and full of grace.

Over Thanksgiving — we went to see Scott’s mom in New Hampshire — it’s not too far about an hour and 40 minutes. There had been in the forecast some possibility of snow showers, nothing substantial but you know as you go over the mountain in NH as Scott says, “anything can become a weather event — a full on white-out snow storm! So “just in case” — as we are leaving Scott says to all of us,

“you all need to bring your snow boots… and you need to grab some snow pants, and gloves and hats — and Reed, “you need to bring snow shovels — ‘just in case’ you know you need to shovel us out. We have to be prepared.”

(*now 2 of our grown children don’t even own snow pants* — and I dress like this every day!)… But to Scott’s credit it did snow. I mean we did see some snowflakes over that ‘mountain’ in NH — ha! But no accumulation.

But ‘preparedness and precaution’ are part of the “care/hospitality” of Scott’s attitude — I mean, did I get a compactable snow shovel for my car from Costco, for Christmas? Yes, yes I did! You know — “just in case.”

But this is the kind of “just in case” that’s about preparation about covering all the bases. It’s a little more about the possibility of something going wrong and needing to be ready for it—often out of caution, sometimes out of anxiety. It’s the kind of “just in case” that stems from an instinct to control what can’t be controlled.

But Jesus’ “just in case” hospitality is different. It’s not about planning for every possible outcome or controlling the outcome. It’s not grounded in fear or anxiety. It’s the posture of presence, listening and love. It’s the “just in case” posture that feels like a gift, a welcome, an “unreasonable love”, that sees us/greets us even before we know what we need.

Jesus’ ministry was deeply marked by this “just in case…” hospitality. He deposited radical care in the bodies and hearts of those around him – – particularly those that were deemed “strangers” or “other.”

His care for the vulnerable and marginalized was transformative, offering both “light” and “water” in various forms. Jesus healed the blind, welcomed the woman at the well, and sought out the lost, offering guidance and care to those deemed “the least.” In the Sermon on the Mount, He proclaimed blessings on the meek, merciful, and persecuted, providing light to the oppressed. Through the parable of the sheep and the goats, Jesus taught that offering food, drink, shelter, and care to the needy is akin to offering it to Him—an invitation to embody radical hospitality for those in need. And there are so many other stories like this…

Jesus’ actions—both literal and metaphorical—addressed the deepest needs of humanity: spiritual thirst and the need for companionship/guidance. His offering of light and water wasn’t just for physical survival, but for spiritual thriving — and a way of being in this world unto others.

It’s why the sacrament of communion can be so powerful right? A remembrance of the tender love of God that has been deposited along our life path(s)… and an offering, “Just in case”, here’s a little bit of something to drink, to eat — to feel.
Deep in your gut — in your spirit — through your body.

In a fundamentally inhospitable world it is easy to disassociate from the good, the beautiful, the honorable, the lovely. We can be like Teflon (for what’s good) and like Velcro (for what’s painful and negative). And yet, radical hospitality helps us counter this tendency, nurturing the connection to what is life-giving and affirming of humanity’s shared dignity — returning us to one another.

The call to “radical hospitality” is fundamentally a conscious choice to love rather than hate. It is an open-heartedness that seeks to mirror the qualities Jesus models—not just embodied for our own sake, but for the sake of others. It’s a love and care that flows outward, expanding beyond our immediate circles. When we’re not in this posture, our energy tends to turn inward—we get caught up in counting wrongs, holding grudges, and building walls instead of leaving notes, water, love, or care in our wake. We find ourselves focusing on who wronged us — blaming, who we don’t like, or why “so-and-so is a jerk.”

But to embody an inclusive wise way of LOVING is to be radically hospitable. It’s an otherwise unreasonable way to live, it’s so generous, so wild, so messy and so hard. But it holds the possibility of transformation and healing. It’s not a mere platitude or a quick fix, nor should it be used sentimentally or as a tool for superficial civility. Instead, it’s a courageous and intentional choice we make again and again — to love.

While Jesus’ life gives us ample stories of this kind of love — he too, likely reached back to his ancient roots for a deeper understanding of radical hospitality. Throughout the Old Testament, the theme of treating foreigners with love, justice, and care is mentioned over a dozen times in various forms. These commandments are deeply tied to the Israelites’ history as former slaves in Egypt.

We see this in Leviticus 19:34 where it says:

34 Any immigrant who lives with you must be treated as if they were one of your citizens. You must love them as yourself, because you were immigrants in the land of Egypt; I am the Lord your God.

This is a transformative moral teaching about how to treat immigrants and strangers – how to transcend tribalism and exclusion. In the context of ancient Israel, this verse was revolutionary in its ethical implications for an ancient society that would have marginalized or oppressed foreign residents. And yet, the call is to remember their own roots — that they are commanded to love the foreigner because of their shared history as immigrants in Egypt, to remember their own experiences of vulnerability and displacement, the pain of being outsiders.

The command concludes with the signature,

“I am the Lord your God,”

signaling that this teaching is not just a moral or societal guideline, but about recognizing the dignity of others and acting out of empathy and compassion — a divine imperative/directive. As Howard Thurman would say, it is a spiritual salutation—one’s offering of blessing to another—meant to take root in the land and be passed down through generations.

And this calls for a COMMUNITY of PRACTICE — to embody radical hospitality—loving the stranger. Nnot just for the people of Israel but for ALL PEOPLE who live among them.

It’s a new expression — of an old fundamental truth … of God’s love and provision embedded in the foundations of their faith — “just in case” — future generations should need it.

We see this same message echo in Deuteronomy, where the Israelites are called to remember and once again celebrate God’s provision .

In Deuteronomy we read this… Deuteronomy 26:9-12 (CEB)

He brought us to this place and gave us this land—a land full of milk and honey. So now I am bringing the early produce of the fertile ground that you, Lord, have given me.”

Set the produce before the Lord your God, bowing down before the Lord your God. Then celebrate all the good things the Lord your God has done for you and your family—each one of you along with the Levites and the immigrants who are among you.

When you have finished paying the entire tenth part of your produce on the third year—that is the year for paying the tenth-part—you will give it to the Levites, the immigrants, the orphans, and the widows so they can eat in your cities until they are full.

Here the Israelites are instructed to bring the first fruits of their harvest to the Temple as an offering to God. This offering is an expression of gratitude for the land and abundance that God has provided. The person making the offering is not only to recall the journey from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land but also to recognize God’s continued presence in their lives. The offering also includes a call to ensure that those who are vulnerable— the Levites (who did not own land), immigrants, orphans, and widows—are included in the abundance, sharing in both the joy & the celebration — as well as the provision.

God is giving us the picture that God’s love and care is not complete without creating a flow of mutual care and communal joy that includes ALL members of the community — “just in case” we all find ourselves in need at some point.

Carol Dempsey – a biblical scholar – says that

“hospitality of the heart” encapsulates the spirit of justice. When we open our hearts to hospitality, we feel compelled to seek justice. When we embrace creation, the poor, our enemies, strangers, foreigners, outcasts, and others, we desire justice for them. We welcome without judging. We love our neighbors as ourselves. We reflect the justice, love, and hospitality of God. This hospitality leads us to desire and work for the flourishing, well-being, and good of others.

And here’s the radical hospitality that’s embedded in this way of being — that is so fundamental to the way Jesus and God try to help us organize our lives — our joy and wholeness depend on every member of society being included. … it says,

“We don’t just welcome you or accept you; we need you. We are insufficient without you. In mutuality, belonging is both a gift received and a gift given. (Cole Arthur Riley)

It is “nice” and “comforting” to offer a welcome, but true dignity lies in belonging —in knowing that your presence matters, that you contribute to the whole, and that together we move toward deeper wholeness.

COMMUNITY GROUPS

Here at Reservoir, we have about 25 community groups meeting throughout the city to practice radical hospitality. Scott and I have held a weekly community group for 15 years. It started with a gathering of our neighbors – whose faith was unknown to us – and some friends who went to church most of their lives, and some folks who went to church most of their lives and will likely never go to church again.

We have had highly curated content, read the Bible together, listened to songs, pored over poetry — done cringe-worthy icebreakers together — but mostly — MOSTLY we’ve shared about our lives. Vulnerably, honestly, open-heartedly.

I’m not that good at hospitality to be honest — likely tied up in the unhealthy way the ‘hospitality’ ministry of my childhood church rested solely on the shoulders of women. The word “Hospitality” has been soooo domesticated in my experience.

I forget to offer people something to drink when they come in — I often don’t talk to everyone in the room — I often don’t greet people, I forget to say “good-bye.” I am underprepared at times….

But radical hospitality is not a singular, individual act.

A community group is not about one personality-driven leader. It’s about the WHOLE. It’s not about personal preference — “we should be doing this or that — or let this person in or not” — it is about being present as a whole body to whatever may transpire. Whoever walks through the door. Whatever their stories are… It is about

“putting in the work to learn and to listen with a heart wide open, to collectively understand another’s experience well enough to know how they are feeling it, not as we imagine we would feel — it is fundamentally not about you — and what you think you would do in a situation you have never been in and perhaps never will be” (as Isabel Wilkerson defines radical empathy).

Over the years we’ve been part of stories that have been gut-wrenching — deaths, cancer, rejection, racial profiling, unstable housing, lost careers — and good ones too — adoptions, promotions, relationships mended, love found — scary stuff and hard stuff and joyous stuff — life stuff.

For 15 years I have felt like we have held space for other people “just in case” they might need a space to experience the hospitality, the love of God. *And for 15 years I have needed that space as much as anyone else.

The stories shared in our community group have illuminated the richness of God’s presence — the stories shared have been lanterns along my journey — notes that I’m not alone. Each story has expanded my own perception of God — so much more multifaceted and radical than I could perceive on my own. *So I don’t know! Join a community group for this season — practice and experience some radical hospitality!*

Radical hospitality goes beyond obedience to a commandment or an act of charity. It is an invitation to see one another as siblings in Christ — a fundamental way of sharing our real lives… fully known to us at times and completely UNKNOWN to us at times. A remembering that the call to love beyond our own flesh and blood is ancient — a deeply rooted one — it comes to us from indigenous leaders, spiritual teachers, and social reformers all throughout the centuries.

From Buddha to Abraham to Muhammad to Jesus. .. they all speak of a common vision for “radical hospitality.”

We are all indivisibly part of one another. We share a common ancestry with everyone and everything alive on earth. (Richard Rohr & Valarie Kaur)

There’s no perfect blueprint for radical hospitality without love. We can’t study enough, feel ready enough, or learn enough to get it right every time. I mean we could speak all the languages of earth and angels — but if we didn’t love others — we would just be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And I guess we could have the gift of prophecy and we could claim to understand all of God’s secret plans and possess all knowledge — and we could proclaim the faith it takes to move mountains —

but if we didn’t love others – we would be nothing. We could give everything to the poor and sacrifice our bodies — and boast about it — BUT if we didn’t love others — we would have gained nothing. I Corinthians 13:1-3

If we don’t love others, there is no posture of ‘just in case.’ ‘Just in case’ is living with open-heartedness and risk—opening ourselves up to the possibility that sometimes we’ll overdo it, underdo it, or not want to do it, or miss it entirely. ‘Just in case’ is about leaving space for the unexpected, for the stranger, for the unpredicted need…
Being “radically hospitable” is RISKY — especially for those of you who might already be vulnerable and underprotected.

That’s why the solidarity and the practice of radical hospitality as a community feels so important — and makes me wonder what we could do together….

How might we use our space—this church, your space, your home—to offer radical hospitality for those vulnerable to housing instability?

What does it look like/mean for our church to be a sanctuary church for ‘new arrivals’ facing threats of deportation?

What support and space can we offer to queer or trans youth who don’t have hospitable homes/churches/states/nation?

What does it look like to commit ourselves to the practice of “radical hospitality”?

How do we want the expressions of the roots of our faith to feel — to US — for EVERYONE?

What is the commitment to such manner of love? To being a prophetic witness?

That’s A LOT of questions to think about — but I want to unabashedly offer two more! Howard Thurman ends his short story with two questions that I’d love for you to take with you today — and return to this week — he asks:

In your own way,
Do you keep a lantern burning by the roadside with a note saying where you may be found? …..“Just in case?”

Do you place a jar of cool water and a bit of fruit under a tree at the road’s turn, to help the one traveling through? ……”just in case?”

Mary’s Shoes

Yesterday was the first day of Winter and today we are here on our last Sunday of Advent. The light of our days — actual sunlight — is diminishing and *at least today’s temperature* suggests we are on a colder trajectory. I don’t know about you but I’ve noticed this in my spirit too — a little bit of dimness, a little shiver of chilliness.

Our invitation this Advent has been to explore two words, “Inspire Us.” Over the past few weeks, this short phrase has taken on the form of an embodied plea for me. “Please God Inspire me…” Sort of a catch all prayer for all the goings-on-of- life. The weeks after the election “inspire me,” was a physical prayer–

“Help me get up off the living room floor when I feel so sad and distraught…”

“Inspire Me” has been a tearful cry for some hard stuff on the home front. “Help me stay in this, help me to not give up God.”

Our cat has had 26 teeth removed over the last month?! And oddly, “Inspire Me” has been a way to hold patience and compassion for even the smallest creatures among us — in the midst of everything else.

Inspiration hasn’t felt easy — and yet I think it’s the very reason that this “Inspire Us” title and prayer has felt so timely.

“Inspire Me” is a protest prayer — to proclaim the truth that we are not meant to just endure and step into disappointment & discouragement over and over — like ill-fitting shoes. We are meant to step into goodness and hope and peace and joy — this is after all what Jesus’ arrival offered and continues to offer us.

Advent of course prepares us for the arrival of Jesus — which is a whopper of an inspiring story. But it’s inspiring not only because of Jesus’ birth, but because of the inspiration it took the generations who came before him to keep believing in the prophecies and promises that foretold a Savior’s birth. Ones that proved to hold God’s people upright over time, that kept them walking in the shoes of the Spirit — even as their own spirits were weary in a weary world.

In many ways we are still waiting for the arrival of these promises and prophecies — for their fulfillment. For “Peace on Earth”, for “Joy to the World.”

And this is the scandalous thing about Advent: it invites us to step into the legacy of those who came before us — to slip into the shoes of our ancestors of faith and walk in those footsteps — unearthing the inspiration they left behind. As we do, I think we can find again that our birthright is to be fully inspired by the Holy Spirit, not just as passive recipients, but as active co-creators with God. Jesus’ arrival wasn’t a quaint, one-time Christmas story — it’s a scrappy one that disrupts the holy order of the Roman Empire and turns this world upside down. And we are meant to be the ones who continue to fulfill these promises — to bring about the change this world desperately needs, both now and in the future.

And we need HOLY INSPIRATION to do so. We need this prayer, “Inspire Us, God!”

Today, we’ll spend some time stepping into the shoes of the faithful that have gone before us — like Mary the mother of Jesus. And we’ll wonder together just how God can Inspire Us.

Dear God, Inspire Us. And honor where we are at. Inspiration might look like rest for us — for our weary souls in a weary world, or a smile, or a quiet moment of noticing that all is not lost. Whatever inspiration looks like for us today, usher in that newness that spark just where we need it most. — Amen.

One of my favorite things to do when I was little was getting into my mom’s closet and trying on her shoes. Some were the typical “dress-up” shoes with heels and fancy buckles — but others were just ordinary shoes, sneakers — some of them smooshed from years of living underneath everything in that closet. But I didn’t care, I wanted to try all of them on because they were my moms.

I would open her sock drawer and put on sock after sock after sock — in hopes that I could layer enough, make my foot long enough to fit into those shoes — you see, I didn’t just want to flop around in them, I wanted them to fit.

We lived in an unfinished house in central Maine. I remember reaching for those shoes through the rough 2 by 4s that framed out the shelves not quite completed — as far as I could against those uninsulated walls — often with success in turning up a pair of shoes to slip into. My favorites — that got tucked away for the winter — were her favorites — a pair of Dr. Scholl’s slip-ons. Bought at a local department store — and worn through all five of her pregnancies — “the most comfortable,” she’d claim — tried and true.

Of course what made it so fun was that I was SLIPPING INTO the stories, imagined and real — of my mom’s life. Informed by photos and vignettes I’d overheard her share… I could be like her dancing on top of a table in some sort of club with a flapper costume on — or I could be gathering the little bits of this and that — that we had and we didn’t have — and magically cobbling together a meal — or tackling a stack of wood to be chopped, or twirling through the kitchen with a baby on one hip and 4 more encircling me…I could be the expressive, free-spirit she was — as well as the hard-working hustler, creative — holder-of-all-things-and-people that she always was… and is.

I’d march into the kitchen where the warmth of the wood stove and my mom’s laughter and attention would greet me.

And many times she’d say something like,

“oh you remind me of aunt so-and-so or your great-grandmother June…”

Not really a dismissal of her own likeness — but an acknowledgement that her likeness was an inheritance of many great women that had come before her.

The connection my mom makes to the generations that came before her, is not unlike the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus. The origins of Jesus’ birth story begin centuries before He arrives on the scene, in a long line of ancestors. In fact, in the Gospel of Matthew, the first 17 verses are an introduction to the genealogy that traces Jesus’ lineage through David and all the way back to Abraham (Matthew 1:1-17). This legacy also shaped Mary’s story.

Now scholars often note that when it comes to Jesus’ birth story — Matthew’s emphasis is on Joseph rather than Mary. It is to Joseph that the annunciation of Jesus’ birth comes. It is Joseph whom the angel directs to flee from Herod, and then later, to return again. In fact, in Matthew — Mary is silent. She speaks not a single word, and no one speaks directly to her. There are no emotions attributed to her, no judgments, no opinions expressed.

*Now this version of a ‘silent Mary’ falls in line with what I knew of Mary from my faith upbringing. As best I can remember Mary’s appearance was only as a mute figure in the yearly Christmas pageant. Demure. Submissive. Domesticated.* Correspondingly these values were to be embodied if one was to be a ‘good’ Christian woman in the eyes of my faith tradition.

And yet, even in this silence, *if we look closely at the genealogy* we learn a lot about Mary. What makes this genealogy unusual is that it contains the names of four women — four unusual women. These are not the exemplary and well-known women such as Sarah and Rebecca, but they are the stories of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba — where each of these women *if we had time to go into each of their stories* …in some way threatened the status quo, and each in turn was threatened by that status quo. When Matthew introduces Mary’s name at the end of the genealogy, we know that she’s linked — with these other women. (thanks to Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “Mary, Mother of God” for her work on this).

These women were not just passive figures in history; they were active disruptors, challenging the established order and norms of their time — making a way for their rights and lineage to survive — and Mary is no different. Like them, she steps into a narrative that defies expectations.

Mary is from a non-descript town of Nazareth, a common girl, with a common name — yet she receives the “favor of God.”

And in Luke’s Gospel Chapter 1 we read how those words begin the birth story,

“God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee… and the angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel (again) said to her,

“Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God.”

Favor. Favor. Favor. Now this stands in stark contrast to the story we might expect in Luke, because earlier in this chapter we read of the other miraculous conception — of John the Baptist — which is preceded by the high status, priestly bloodlines, and holy virtues of his parents, Elizabeth (who’s Mary’s cousin), and Zechariah. Yet Luke says not a word about Mary’s righteousness, her faithfulness to the Law or family of origin. In fact nothing in the introduction of Mary qualifies her for this role — apart from God’s own favor given to her.

God looked with favor on Mary just as she was.

There is an unspoken value in small impoverished towns on “getting out” — on “making it!” And there’s a way (as subtext) — that if you “stay” — you are kind of a failure, you’ve amounted to nothing. My mom stayed (in the town she was born and raised in). And she raised us in that same town — my basketball coaches were her classmates — and I knew the stories of who had left and who had stayed — and the glaring value assigned to those choices.

There’s a way my mom could have felt trapped and depressed by her circumstances, many that she could not change. She could have taken on “lowliness” or “common-ness” as her identity — casting herself into a pre-written narrative — one that would seek to define her by the limiting factors surrounding her…

She never seemed to subscribe to those limits- likely in part it was the long line of women that she drew strength and wisdom from — who were creatives in their own rights — pushing against the need for a resume full of qualifications labeling them as “worthy-enough.”

And likely in great part she drew encouragement from the Spirit of God every day. As Nikki Giovanni the poet and activist who died last week says,

“the state of the world we live in is so depressing… and this is not because of the reality of the men who run it, but because it just doesn’t have to be that way. The possibilities of life are so great and beautiful that to see less wears the spirit down.”

I know my mom’s spirit was worn down at times, life was hard — but she just wasn’t interested in staying Uninspired.

She spoke a new narrative into being for her life. Often speaking against the “ways things had always been” (in churches, in schools, and a marriage) — unto a free-er future for the next generation for me — for my kids — for so many. She prayed, she went to church — but she mostly lived with the Spirit-envisioned possibility that there could be something more.

**In these recent weeks I’ve gone back to slipping into my mom’s shoes — those Dr. Scholl’s — the good ‘ole standbys of faith…. Where possibility is birthed. I’ve been on my knees in prayer, asking God specifically for the things I long for and hope for — for mercy to triumph — for goodness to win out… And I wait expectantly for some of those unseen promises to come to be … I do so in the good company of my mom and Mother Mary — and so many of you…

Understanding that Mary is part of this lineage of women who were daring and willing to defy the culture narratives written for them — makes her “favor” not just a divine blessing, but a divine subversion of the status quo. Being “chosen” by God, is a radical one, turning upside down the world’s values. This context makes the “favor” she receives even more profound — it’s not just about being chosen; it’s about how God’s favor disrupts the world’s sense of worth and power. It’s about how there’s an inheritance implanted at the core of US too — by the Holy Spirit and available to all of us.

God’s Spirit and LOVE takes up residence in our human hearts – we are the temple also of the Spirit — where something new mysteriously miraculously is birthed within us. EVEN AS WE STAND IN towns, and pre-written narratives — in a nation — that we are all done with – that we have no patience for anymore.

Mary’s reality is somewhat akin to our reality too, hers is not a blissful, copacetic existence. She is a marginalized young Jew living in the midst of a land occupied by the Roman Empire. She is disadvantaged in a world that would neither notice nor protect her. She lived in the time of Herod the Great – full of terror – “babies — innocents were being killed”. People were hungry, shelter was scarce and people lived in fear for their lives and their children’s lives.

Mary’s setting — MUCH LIKE OURS — is not a quick roadmap to inspiration.

And yet if we continue in Luke’s gospel, we see Mary speak. It’s her feminine voice that begins the Jesus birth story and she shares the longest set of words spoken by a woman in the New Testament.

Inspired by the love and favor of God, she breaks out into song and here’s the first part of her song:

(Luke 1: 46 – 50 Common English Bible)

46 Mary said, “With all my heart I glorify the Lord!

47   In the depths of who I am I rejoice in God my savior.

48 He has looked with favor on the low status of his servant.

    Look! From now on, everyone will consider me highly favored

because the mighty one has done great things for me.

Holy is his name.

50 He shows mercy to everyone,

        from one generation to the next,

        who honors him as God.

The beginning of this song – is a song for all of us… and especially for those who like Mary – are discounted by society, pushed to the edges, invisible …It’s a song for when we think God has forgotten just how long we’ve been waiting and longing or discouraged! It’s a song that invites us to join in the ancient chorus – that sings,

“We are meant to be inspired, to be loved, and know that we are favored.”

This song was born long before Mary – she joins the ancient singers of Deborah, Miriam, Hannah who sang of their own struggles and God’s love – a song inherited by Mary.

“When Mary sings of God here — she didn’t say that God looked with favor on her virtue. She didn’t say that God looked with favor on the fact that she had tried so hard that she finally had become the ideal version of herself. No. God looked with favor on her just as she is.” (Nadia Bolz-Weber)

She says, “let it be” – and God fills HER shoes with God’s Spirit, love, encouragement and inspiration.

INSPIRATION comes from the gift of knowing God’s deep LOVE for us.

The trick of course is that it’s hard to BE, no less STAY inspired when life just crushes upon you. When you are told again and again that you actually aren’t “making it”…. When the threshold of “enough-ness” is far out of reach — whether that’s in a capitalist culture, a patriarchal society, or an unhealthy religion (not to mention the intersection points of all of those).

It forces us to clomp around in shoes that are too big for us — trying and trying to slip into other people’s shoes —- that will never fit.

AND YET ALL THE WHILE — the Spirit of God is trying to walk us right back to the birthplace of love — and FILL US — us— God’s temple of the Spirit — God is trying to fill our shoes with God’s Spirit.

A love that fits just right.

When I layered sock upon sock on my foot — trying to fit into my mom’s shoes — I hadn’t factored in that with each layer of sock — my foot was also getting progressively wider — and I actually busted out the sides, before I filled in the length.

I think it takes our hearts a little practice to be convinced that this kind of love — doesn’t waver. That it is an inheritance that knows no bounds.

My mom just turned 70 years old in September and as I joined so many others in celebrating her — I reflected on my way home of the greatest gifts I’ve received from her. Her selflessness, her merciful listening ear (I talk to her almost every day and talk relentlessly about myself) — but most of all the gift I realized, is that I know that I am, and have always been lavishly loved by her.

Can you imagine what we could imagine, create if we believed we are totally and fully loved by God?

We are co-creators with God, our lives are a canvas entrusted with the beauty and power of divine imagination.

It’s why in the Advent Guide this year we included murals from the Boston area. When I think of divine inspiration, prophetic voices — truth-telling – I think of street artists. When art is made for the community, by community members — powerful conversations and change can be afoot. I want to show you this mural, “A Legacy of Color” — it’s in Roxbury and made by two Roxbury/Boston born artists, Genaro Ortega and Luis Taforo. *I’ll give you a second to take it in.

When I went to see this mural and take pictures of it — I saw this boy putting on big shoes — thinking,

“Oh, he’s trying to fit in the shoes of someone he looks up to — but he’s got some growing to do — it’s about possibility, this next generation coming up..”

But the artist’s statement informed by the community was this —

“As we, the community, capture the essence of its own rich tapestry, we step into our own history. (The genealogy/the inheritance from which we come)…. Each of us, symbolically slipping into the well-worn shoes of those who have paved the way before us. In this moment, we embrace the stories and struggles of our past, witnessing a dynamic transition unfold; a journey of identity and empowerment. With every step, we carry the weight of our shared history, each worn path etched into the mural serving as a visual homage to the challenges we’ve overcome and the victories we’ve achieved together. This becomes a powerful metaphor for embracing our unique paths while honoring the roots that anchor us. A community of pride and honor, strides boldly into its future. Let us take pride in the footsteps we follow and the paths we create. Together, we paint a story of strength, unity, resilience, and a boundless future.” (GoFive)

A boundless future — where newness is around every corner — where blank walls and canvases are emboldened with charges of empowerment and encouragement and truth.

Mary’s song builds with this same energy, an embodied boldness, here are the last few verses:

Luke 1:51-55 (Common English Bible)

51 He has shown strength with his arm.

      He has scattered those with arrogant thoughts and proud inclinations.

52 He has pulled the powerful – taken princes – down from their thrones

        and lifted up the lowly.

53 He has filled the hungry with good things

    and sent the rich away empty-handed.

54 He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,

        remembering his mercy,

55 just as he promised to our ancestors,

        to Abraham and to Abraham’s descendants forever.”

This is a powerful, wild, resilient protest song! It lays out a boundless future for the kin-dom of God to come — and Mary is speaking of it so surely, so expectantly –it’s as if she embodies and births this way of being herself…..

When Mary sings this song — she participates in this kind of maternal thinking *which goes beyond being a mother, or a parent even*, she embodies this maternal way of being that expresses concern for the protection, the well-being, the good will of not just THE CHILD OF GOD — but is a way of regarding EVERYONE as a child of God.

And we are invited to inherit (*not imitate*) Mary’s story as our own.

And some days this is all we can do, to keep trying to see the world as God sees it -even if the powerful are still on their thrones (AGAIN), and have their hands full of riches – and even as the poor and powerless are still in the trenches… Some days all we have is the legacy of those who have gone before us — holding up the promises of God’s love and presence – potential etched on the walls of our streets and in our hearts.

Mary doesn’t have the things that would make this an easier go of it for her — she has a little bit of this and a little bit of that… Priest Barbara Taylor says, “and she has the willingness to believe that the God who loves her will be part of whatever happens next—and this apparently, is enough to INSPIRE where it is her feet will tread.

Mary teaches this tiny baby Jesus – about the love of God. Her inspired song may have been the first song Jesus heard in the womb – his ear tuning to this melody.. And maybe it was the song sung throughout their home while Jesus toddled and shuffled about in Mary’s shoes …perhaps it was the lullaby she sang to him each night … and maybe this song, was the clarion call that Mary sang through the streets when Jesus went missing for three days in the temple. . . Maybe it’s what inspired the first words of his public ministry to be,

Luke 4:18-19

“The Spirit of the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners, and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed”.

Maybe it was the ravaged, sobbing song he heard his mom sing – or the one he hummed himself – as he died on the cross… Nevertheless it is a song he heard again and again throughout his life. And maybe one that inspired him …

Mother Mary’s song continues to be sung to us this Advent. It’s a reminder for whenever we find ourselves prone on the living room floor — or vacant of spirit — that our birthright arrived on the scene long ago —

Titus 3:4-7

“when God our savior’s kindness and love appeared,

5 when GOD saved us because of God’s mercy, not because of righteous things we had done. That God did this already through the washing of new birth and the Holy Spirit,

6 which God poured out upon us generously through Jesus Christ our savior.

7 Because of this, we are made right with God by God’s loving-favor.”

Today in our time and in our culture, we get to have our shoes filled with this goodness — with this disrupting, inspiring, reckless love of God. … and this is deeply rooted joy.

JOY TO THE WHOLE WORLD

So may we repeat,

And repeat, and repeat,

This sounding joy.

Let me pray for us:

“Maternal God, come close to us now. Keep singing to us. Show us how to love. Show us how to wait, — inspire us — so that we can deliver YOU into this world again and again.”

The Letters We Write

Recently I’ve been revisiting an essay that I have returned to again and again over the last eight years. It was written by Vincent Harding in the early 2000’s. Vincent Harding is a late civil rights elder who was a friend and speech writer for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. – he was a historian and a theologian, and among many wise writings he published an essay called, “Is America Possible? To My Young Companions on the Journey of Hope.”

It’s actually not really an essay — it’s a letter that he writes to young people that have inspired him and the many hundreds of people that those young people represent. And it’s not a letter where he coercively crafts an argument with an answer to this roaring question — it’s an unfolding conversation (that he invites us to enter), that gives voice to the history of hope (often times blood-stained hope) that he lived and experienced. And it’s a conversation that also elevates the dialogue of contributions and possibilities of what creating a new America, “a more perfect union,” could be with the many young people’s voices that he has recently worked with and learned from.

I return to it because it is a love letter.

His letter starts as many do, “Dear so-and-so” — naming the recipient of the address. In this letter he addresses each and every youth that has been inspiring to him — for a full page and a half. And for each person he names he provides an additional little note — a blessing – a TRUTH that follows that person’s first name.

Dear Mumia (with appreciation for your refusal to submit to the threatening darkness),

Dear Rachel and Jonathan (as you manifest the blessed beauty of your mother),

Dear Pastor Sheila (because I know the Lord has laid her hands on you),

Dear Maria and Santiago (beloved adopted sister and nephew, continue to chant and live your hope),

And so on and so on and so on — he does this.

The very salutation of his letter communicates his deep care and love for humanity, for the possibility of this nation — for the beloved community that he felt was a spiritual responsibility as much as a political one.

The letter is a moving, tattered tapestry of story after story. Conversation after conversation of people — of all ages, races, ethnicities, connections and convictions — seeking to create and grow the beloved community. In America — and beyond.

I return to it because it’s a political letter.

It’s a letter that invites us into these dialogues too — asking us at a fundamental level — political questions. Political of course in its Greek origins means how we gather in public life, and who we gather with — and how we agree on how we gather? Public life is about putting our dreams into formation — giving shape to them , organizing how we gather as communities, neighborhoods, a nation.

It’s a gospel letter.

The gospels do this very thing, right? They tell story after story after story of the people of God. The followers and friends of Jesus – trying their best to live out the values and the teachings and the practices of God — so that our dreams and ignited imagination can create the kin-dom of God here on earth — so that we don’t lose sight of that.

It’s a lovely, political, gospel-y letter that denies giving way to define itself as any one of those categories — nor argues that one should stand as greater than the other. It is all actually one letter, one story, one way of being in private and in public life. And this is what makes it an inspiring letter.

And on most days – particularly as we draw closer and closer to an election — I need a little inspiration. I can give way pretty quickly to the verses in Ecclesiastes that say:

4 Generations come and generations go,

11 No one remembers the former generations,

and even those yet to come will not be remembered

by those who follow them. (Ecclesiastes 1)

And get stuck in thinking that all of this just doesn’t matter. All of this is meaningless — a horrible set up for the next generation, a house of cards, a letter that’s ending has already been written.

But Vincent Harding inspires me to return to what has indeed already been written — that truth and integrity and love matter in the face of violence, hatred and despair.

That much of the New Testament is a compilation of letters written to us. And they are not dead letters, they are letters of our living Jesus, letters of love encouraging our public life — even when it feels so (gosh darn) hard.

And it is our role — it is actually our calling to continue to write letters like this into our present day landscape. To write hope into the hearts of those around us — and to allow our hearts to be malleable of the same accord. Because we want the next generation to have blessings and possibility known and as close as their very names. So that they are emboldened – so that amnesia doesn’t take root — so that they have some signposts to read along the way. Along the way that makes way for other people. A chain reaction if you will, of making way for the way of Jesus. And to have the empowerment to re-write what we might get wrong along the way.

Today we’ll look at an interaction with the disciples and Jesus that might help us — and continue to hear thoughts and the voice of Vincent Harding. As we keep going in this sermon series called, The Way of Jesus in Public Life.

STORY | Writing letters to my daughter

Our daughter started college three years ago — and every morning of her first year (for a chunk of time) I got up early and wrote her letters of the heart — the truest form of a love letter.

“Dear Elle — (my beloved, the one who made me a mother).”

I wrote letters when she was feeling homesick — told her how she was missing nothing back here at home — how to keep looking forward even when nothing was familiar…

“Dear Elle (the one who holds so many dreams, those that are formed and those that are still to take shape — keep going).

I wrote letters to encourage her voice and her connection:

“Dear Elle (the one who has the great advocate at your side – say “yes” to office hours and say “yes” to parties too).

And I wrote to her with practical wisdom when she seemed to forget some of the basics

“Dear Elle, (may wisdom befall you in the form of time-management, setting an alarm clock — eating a banana).

And I signed each letter with a refrain —

“A new day comes, keep your head up — you are surrounded in love.”

I wrote so many letters that first year.

Ooooo! It was some of my best writing — love letters, gospel-y letters (inviting her into an awareness of something beyond herself).

I felt like such a good parent – inspiring, present, responsible.

And yet . . .Elle did not read one of those letters.

This girl did not even get her mailbox key until APRIL of her first year. *super*

SCRIPTURE

Now Jesus might know a thing or two of what it feels like to have his words not be fully taken in. All of his teachings are recorded and written as letters for us, right?

Teachings that are meant to help us when we feel homesick for the world we dream for but do not yet see. Fundamental practices that are meant to buoy us when we forget how to start our days or live our days — encouragement to forge our way forward when all/so much looks like chaos, unrecognizable and unjust.

And yet — sometimes I flail around like I’ve never read a word — of the Word.

And so this morning I wanted to invite us to read some of the gospel of Mark, together. It’s where the disciples seem to flail around a little bit too.

We enter this scene where Jesus and the disciples have been traveling around and they’ve witnessed a lot of Jesus’ actions, listened to a lot of Jesus’ words — heard about the kin-dom of God, the one that is among them and yet not fully realized. And where we pick up here in Mark 9 is where Jesus has just added a little tidbit of information that foretells his death and then his resurrection… so the disciples are spinning a little bit, I think:

Mark 9:33 – 37

33 Then they (the disciples) came to Capernaum, and when he (Jesus) was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?”

34 But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.

35 He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

36 Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them,

37 “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Now the disciples have the unique opportunity to be with Jesus in real time. To see the teachings, the practices of Jesus enacted in their very presence. And yet they seem to not be reading the scene here.

I can imagine Jesus, as he sits them down addressing them:

“Dear disciples — dear , dear, dear disciples… (of whom I wish to bless, but who seem to not pick up anything I’m putting down), pray tell…
“What were you arguing about along the way?”

Now in the disciples defense — they’ve had a lot to digest. They’ve just witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus — they see Moses and Elijah on top of a mountain. They hear the voice of God through a cloud — they try to help a boy with an unclean spirit — but they can’t. And then Jesus calls them a

“faithless generation”

and then Jesus easily heals the boy — and then Jesus tells them he’s going to die… and then also in 3 days come back to life.

Soooooo — I get that they were just trying to figure out what was going on, and they feel the pressure, right? I mean Jesus has been doing/saying a lot of great things. Large crowds are following him and increasing daily. So if Jesus dies, the disciples think, “well we have to be “GREAT” too! We are supposed to carry something helpful forward for the kin-dom of God. And the prospect is scary. They are afraid.

I feel this too. I look around some days at our national landscape and I think I DO NOT understand. at. all. What is happening here? And Jesus, I do not understand what you are doing — call me a

“bad reader” — or a “member of a faithless generation”

but I think I need a little more “greatness” attached to my name to make an impact here.

I get why the disciples were arguing about

“who would be the greatest.”

It feels like a deep spiritual responsibility to create the kin-dom of God on earth. And the most recent experience they have is of FAILING to heal a boy — it’s what’s likely most fresh in their minds.

*Now I want to pause for a moment on this story of the boy.*

There are a fair amount of verses devoted to detailing what this unclean spirit does to the boy. It throws him to the ground, it convulses him, it makes him foam at the mouth, grind his teeth, it casts him into fire and into water — it tries to destroy him — it makes him not be able to speak or to hear.

Jesus — asks the father of the boy

“how long has this been happening?”

and the Father says,

“since childhood.”

Jesus casts the spirit out and turns to the disciples and tells them that it can only be cast out by prayer.

Now it’s not lost on me — that when Jesus hears the disciples arguing about ‘who is the greatest’ — that instead of getting into the minutiae of what they were talking about or the details of debate — that he brings a child to the center of their meeting.

A child who is not violently possessed by something trying to destroy it at all costs.

Despite not being recorded as saying anything — I think the child is the one holding the conversation here. Yes, We know Jesus gives voice to the voiceless – it is the vulnerable, the ones regarded as hopeless, useless, purposeless — held at the edges of society with no social or physical power — for whom Jesus writes the letters we read today.

“You belong, you are welcome.”

*Yes, Jesus of course — likes to flip our hierarchical ways of structuring our communities — as well as our ways of thinking of leadership — or who’s powerful, etc.. He flips it all upside down.

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

Yes – and I think here he’s saying to the disciples,

“If you are going to talk about ‘greatness’ – let’s talk about what kind of “greatness that is” — and let’s think about the child you saw a couple days ago and the child you see here today….”

If you are writing a letter to them — about the kind of kin-dom/beloved community you are creating with the “GREATNESS” you are arguing about — how does that letter read?

Is it a letter of possession?
Of dominance?
Of control?
Is it Full of “BIG, BIG, BIG-ly — HUUUGE” — violent voices?
Ones that overtake the voices in their path — ignoring them, silencing them, stomping on them?

Or do you write of a greatness that points to something even greater?

“If you believe in the kin-dom, if you believe in me — yes you will do the works I have been doing AND you will do even greater things than these…..”

Ones of compassion and of help. Of healing and of possibility. Of good news and great love.

But if you build a kin-dom that argues about how much greatness you can showcase in ideas, buildings, power or money — you will destroy this child, you will send him to the ground foaming at the mouth.

But if you embrace the child of which the kin-dom is born within — you start with a salutation:

“Dear young person, (beloved child of God — I see you…)”
“Dear young person, (beloved child of God — you are welcomed here….)”
“Dear young person, (may you be embraced by a future that needs your voice).”

And I can imagine that the disciples would think, “but Jesus this child can’t even read yet.”

And that’s the truth — the young may never read the letter — but they will get the message. The message of whether or not they are left alone in the wilds of our day, or whether they are embraced into the fold of greater possibilities, given greater capacity to receive and give love, and greater capacity to hope.

In the 1930s, the poet Langston Hughes observed that the origin of a deeper American Dream is not to be found in some GREAT, distant, abstract idea but very near, in the stories of our own lives — of those around us. Especially the young. His insight rings true to this day:

“An ever-living seed,

Its dream

Lies deep in the heart of me.”
(https://fetzer.org/resources/america-possible-letter-my-young-companions-journey-hope)

I think Jesus is inviting the disciples and us to grapple with the idea that if we are going to engage or even touch a conversation about what/who is the “greatest” — let it be unto developing this ever-living seed in all of us. Let it be unto growing the greatest humanity, the greatest spirit, the greatest community — a way of living alongside one another — that opens up the greatest capacities, the greatest gifts. Vincent Harding would say,

“let’s find ways to move against that which crushes our greatest human development, and our greatest communal and public development — like segregation — like white supremacy.”

Let’s find ways to work unto a shared flourishing — which creates a greatness we’ve never quite experienced before.

“Our work in public life is to care and receive care from each other. To create a world where those who are hurt and harmed — who are right now being harmed by patterns and practices of dominance and greed and deadly indifference to shared flourishing is a priority, a promise, a practice we collectively commit to”. (enfleshed.org)

What happens though is that when we are tired — when we are confused or dismayed – or afraid – we argue. Often loudly. And like these disciples — we can quickly get into a sickening spiral.

One that takes us away from whatever is true — whatever is honorable — whatever is just — whatever is pleasing — whatever is lovely — whatever is admirable — and those things are the things we need in our perception in our public life. (Philippians 4)

Because without them — the realities of life — will swallow us up — will throw us to the ground, to the fire. The bullies, the loud-mouths, the violence of our days will seep into the fractures that are ever-widening. And it will poison the roots of the childhoods of this generation and the next — if we continue to argue along the way.

SIGNPOSTS
https://onbeing.org/programs/vincent-harding-is-america-possible/

Vincent Harding started a project called Veterans of Hope – at the age of 66 in 2004. (And to be clear, in this context “veteran” refers to individuals who have dedicated their lives to activism and social change, rather than military service). It was a project designed to inspire and promote public civic engagement of disaffected youth by connecting them with organizers, artists, religious and political leaders, educators, healers and visionary activists from 50 to 90 years old. Veterans like himself that were not holding HOPE as a way to bypass the past or present darkness of our land — but still believing for such hope along the journey.

He recounts a time that he met with a young man – who as they started talking in a more personal way, turned out was one of the “leaders of the drug-running folks at the time” – but this young man shared that one of the reasons why he felt like he had gone in the way that he had gone — not trying in any way to excuse himself — was the fact that he, like many other young people, were operating in a situation where they felt it was just very, very dark all around them. And what they needed were, as he put it, some signposts, some lights in other peoples’ lives, that would help them…

“Live human signposts,” is what they needed.

These lights would help them to see the possibilities for themselves (to bring to life something that already was inside of them — that ever-living seed). Often the approach when working with marginalized youth is to educate them to figure out how quickly they can get out of the darkness and get into a more pleasant situation. When what is needed again and again are more and more people who will stand in that darkness, who will not run away from those deeply hurt people and communities and will open up possibilities that other people can’t see in any other way except seeing it through human beings who care about them. And Vincent Harding says, “if we teach young people to run away from the darkness rather than to open up the light in the darkness, to be the candles, the signposts, then we will do great harm to them and our communities.”

Imagine living a life in such a way where our lives could be signposts for what’s possible?

Imagine not having to be THE ONE — the only — the best/greatest signpost of all time for all humanity — but one of a constellation of signposts that could help guide us all unto greater movement into a true, honorable, just, admirable — nation/world?

Much of what Jesus had shown the disciples was exactly this — how to be a collection of people alongside other people — unto a better future they craft together. To the disciples they recorded these moments as “miracles” (the feeding of the 4,000 — the healing of the blind/sick and so on), and perhaps that’s what it would feel like to us too today if we were to witness a world where there was enough food for everyone to be fed, where the evil of pain and sickness was addressed seriously and holistically and transformed into healing — where the smallest, the weakest, the vulnerable the oppressed were brought into the center and given equitable access and voice — all of it does indeed sound miraculous. But it also sounds like a letter I would read again and again — if someone would just write it.

Jesus — reminds us it has been written….

“Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice – (live it!) And the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:9) — Sincerely, Jesus.

And Jesus — Vincent – – the disciples — invite us to be the living letters we wish to be written into the future.

Elle eventually read my letters. I don’t know how much or how little –but I do know she can return to them when she needs the reminder that she is loved and that I believe in her.

But actually the greatest thing of all — has very little to do with me – or my words — but rather the collective humanity around her. The many signposts along the way in a year that was really tough — people who cared and loved her too; coaches, friends, lab partners, strangers at the store. Helping her live out what she is for and what she is meant for… saying, “Dear Elle (beloved child of God, I see you…).

Vincent Harding said that,

“Now it’s a powerful time in this country for young people and us to be asking the question: and what are we for? Do we exist for some reason other than competing as the greatest nation — or finding the greatest possible technological advances? Are there some things that are even deeper that we are meant for, meant to be, meant to do, meant to create?”

Jesus is asking us the same — and also reminding us that:

“We are not alone in this struggle for the creation of the beloved community it will take…

He reminds us that,

“It has long been written and known that those who choose to struggle for the life of the earth and its people are part of an ageless, membrane of light that is filled with the lives, hopes, and beautiful visions of all who have fought on, held on, loved well, and gone on before us.”

“This task is too magnificent — too hard — too great — for a few disciples to shape alone, to be carried by us alone, in our house, in our meeting, in our organization, in our generation, — but we try anyway — for the next generation — so that they will remember us — and for the generation after them, so that they will remember them… We are all a part of one another, and we are all part of the intention of God — to continue being light and life to everyone around us.”
Words by Vincent Harding. (“The Greatness of the Myth, The Goodness of the Man”, Eboo Patel, onbeing.org).

Prayer

Dear God, the one who reads all our letters — who regards them as prayers. May our lives — both private and public be holy renderings of the love you seed in us, the dreams you call out of our beings. And may you remind us that “a new day comes, to keep our heads up — and that we are surrounded in love — come what may.”

Resources:

https://fetzer.org/resources/america-possible-letter-my-young-companions-journey-hope

https://onbeing.org/programs/vincent-harding-is-america-possible/

https://onbeing.org/blog/the-greatness-of-the-myth-the-goodness-of-the-man/

Connection Might Save Us

We are in our Fall Series called “We Are Reservoir.” It’s a fun season — jumpstarting, reminding us of the beauty and presence of God in this community. Jesus at the center of all we do — all we dream and envision — and even more than what we can imagine. We draw close to us (as best we can) the values of an open, inclusive, beloved community that Jesus calls us to create and grow. Staying open, eager, connected to the Spirit of God by which we move and breathe and have our being.

This series “We Are Reservoir,” while in some ways is a taste and a teaching of Reservoir’s expression of how and why we think about faith and God the way we do (I think is mostly an invitation to live a connected life. To live a vibrant life — with a vibrant faith — with a vibrant God right at your hip. It’s an invitation to continue your journey of faith, cultivated “yes” (in part) by your individual moments with this wondrous God) but mostly it’s a journey lived out with all the beautiful, complicated, messy, people…image-bearers of God among and around you.

In some ways, “We Are Reservoir” isn’t really about Reservoir at all — it’s always been about what is beyond Reservoir. It’s the belief that God’s imprint is held and living in everyone. And perhaps our most vibrant faith — our most vibrant view of God will take shape as we seek to discover just that. As we live our lives tethered to a dynamic Spirit that promises to enrich our story as we uncover the stories of God exactly where our feet are.

I’d love to spend some time with you and the Spirit of God this morning — wondering together about why connection, why community is so vital to a healthy faith, a healthy life. We’ll learn from the stories of the widows in the New Testament and we’ll ask ourselves potent questions,

“Am I lonely? Am I connected? Where am I finding community?”

Prayer: This morning, may we turn to each other – as we turn to you, God. Today we ask of you what is simple — but seems to take lifetimes — help us love one another, unto a community of saints and widows and students and tradesman and high-level professionals and all of us — help us to resurrect one another where parts of us might feel absent of life…help us to continue to see you the life-giving, resurrected one in our midst.

YES DINNERS

Well back in 2016 (after a notable election) we started what we called “yes dinners.” It’s the same design as the Beloved Tables that we are running right now. . .. our version of community dinners that allow you to gather around a table, meet some folks in this community and feel (hopefully) a little more connected — a little more known.

And we completely stole this idea from a small grassroots organization called the People’s Supper. Who, in the wake of the rupture of the election and rippling division, vowed to hold 100 Suppers in 100 Days — hoping people would lean in and opt to connect around a table rather than hunker down in silos. This organization set out to equip communities with the tools they would need to build trust across lines of difference —

“realizing that social change moves at the speed of relationships, and that relationships move at the speed of trust.” (www.thepeoplessupper.org)

Over the years I think this movement has grown a lot — realizing areas in which they needed to adapt and change — and realizing that these meals weren’t a panacea.

“They don’t inoculate against grief, or polarization, or futility. But still holding close to the belief that those moments in which we truly connect with each other matter. They move us from isolation to connection, and toward a shared humanity. And the absence of such connection actually diminishes us.” (www.thepeoplessupper.org)

There are ways that big national events –like elections and a global event like a pandemic spike our awareness of how disconnected we are. We are suddenly all paying attention all at once — to what has laid beneath the surface for a long time.

We are a lonely bunch.

We really are.

There are just tons of data to support this. I mean our social connection has just plummeted since the early 2000’s — so much so that Vivek Murthy our Surgeon General (the doctor of our nation) last year put out a Surgeon General’s Advisory report declaring that we are enduring an epidemic of loneliness and isolation — one that has profound negative effects on not only our individual health but also societal health.

Loneliness is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death. The mortality impact of being socially disconnected is similar to that caused by smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day. Vivek says we will pay an ever-increasing price in the form of our individual and collective health and well-being if we don’t figure out how to build more connected lives and a more connected society.

Social connection is our deepest fundamental human need, as essential to survival as food, water, and shelter.

“Just as hunger and thirst tell us that we need to eat and drink — loneliness is our natural signal that reminds us when we need to connect with other people.” (Together, Vivek Murthy)

If left “untreated” Vivek believes we will continue to splinter and divide until we can no longer stand as a community or a country. Instead of coming together to take on the great challenges before us, we will further retreat to our corners—angry, sick, and alone.

Throughout history, our ability to rely on one another has been crucial to survival — in fact our ancestor’s default setting was “togetherness”! (hunter-gatherers and such). We human beings are biologically wired for social connection — we are made as relational beings.

God embedded in the very design of the universe the energy of love and relationship…. Many scientists have pointed out that love is

“the very physical structure of the Universe.” That gravity, atomic bonding, planets, orbits, cycles, photosynthesis, ecosystems, force fields, electromagnetic fields, and evolution all reveal an energy that is attracting all things and beings to one another, in a movement toward ever greater complexity and diversity—and yet ironically also toward unification at ever deeper levels. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin) This relational energy is quite simply love under many different forms.” (Rohr)

You see the energy is not IN the planets, or IN the atomic particles – the energy is found in the relationship between them.

It’s so beautiful — this ‘love force’ surrounding us at every turn — suggesting the very nature of our beings should just ooze with connection and good relationships — healthy communities. And yet it’s the hardest of things to do … we are often pretty bad at being relational beings.

Vivek Murthy spent the first part of his term as the nation’s doctor embarking on a “listening tour” around the country. Listening to stories, of what people were going through on the health front, what their lives were like — and what he uncovered was that the most prevailing ailment that held many chronic illness in common was loneliness.

Stories have always helped us feel connected and promote a sense of belonging. Storytelling helps us relay our values, purpose and identity and helps us bond emotionally.

“Ever since the first cave drawing we’ve been encoding our experiences in stories through words, pictures, music and rituals that are passed down generation to generation.”

Stories help us feel connected to one another. If I’m not sharing knowledge and emotions — bringing my true authentic self – my complex, diverse self – to a relationship — then I feel lonely.

Connection Value

It’s why here at Reservoir “connection” is one of our core values. We value

“life-giving connections and are committed to pursuing God’s wholeness, love, and leading in every moment of our lives, transcending distinctions between sacred and secular.”

What feels especially Reservoir-y about this to me — is that we don’t define what those “life-giving connections” look like — or where you’ll encounter them!

As we move into the scripture this morning in Acts, I invite you to hold all these parts of connection and community — its complexity, its importance, the stories, the barriers and the ways in which you feel connected or not.

Let’s read this story in the early part of Acts

Acts 6:1-7

1 In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Hellenistic Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food.

2 So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, “It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables.

3 Brothers and sisters, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them

4 and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word.”

5 This proposal pleased the whole group. They chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit; also Philip, Procorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolas from Antioch, a convert to Judaism.

6 They presented these men to the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.

7 So the word of God spread. The number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith.

Here we have the early developing church in Jerusalem. A rapidly growing community of people that have come together with all their complexities and diversity, right? The 12 disciples themselves come from different social backgrounds, and opposing philosophical and political viewpoints.

Matthew, the tax collector was seen as regarded as a collaborator with the Roman occupiers. Simon the Zealot, was a member of a group that sought the expulsion of the Romans and the regaining of Jewish independence. . . and yet this early church community as it’s taking shape in Acts, is characterized by extraordinary unity and generosity. In Acts 4 it says,

“all the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had.”

However, in the midst of all the ‘love force’ and relational capital — we have some internal division brewing among the community.

The “Hellenists” are presumably Greek-speaking Jews, which means that they originated outside of Palestine.
The “Hebrews” are also Jews, of course. But they are Palestinian Jews, whose first language is Hebrew or during this time Aramaic.
The “Hellenists” feel that, because of language and cultural differences, their widows — are being neglected by the predominantly “Hebrew” members of the community as well as the entirely “Hebrew” leadership of the Twelve – the apostles.
They are being excluded from the daily distribution of food, from a meal, from a seat at the table.

Now this passage is often regarded as offering a quick, good response to a practical problem in the community — with the appointment of the first deacons to address it (and Greek speaking ones to boot).

And as I read these verses I can acknowledge this — the apostles responded efficiently. “Check!” I mean it’s better than letting tension fester — or continuing to neglect an already under-resourced and excluded group of women.

However, I can’t help but wince at a couple of points as I read these verses as well. And rather than bypass them unto the happy ending in verse seven where we see

“the word of God spreading and the number of disciples and priests increasing in number…”

I want to press into those points that give me pause and see what we might be able to learn about connection and community.

If I may, I’d like to rewind a tiny bit to the Gospel of Luke — where we see a sequence of “widow” stories and Jesus’ interactions with them. That may help us with this story in Acts. Luke (also the author of Acts) spends a lot of time in his own Gospel talking about widows (and women in general), more than the other gospels. Noticeable enough that some scholars wonder if he himself was raised by a widow. Let’s consider four of these widow stories really quickly in the gospel of Luke:
(Much of this learning from F. Scott Spencer)

Anna the Prophetess – we learn that she is an esteemed elderly widow who stays at the temple day in and day out — fasting and praying and worshiping. She is faithful, she praises God and speaks about Jesus to everyone as the Messiah. And while it might seem like the temple is her primary resource, the gospel of Luke paints the picture of the temple as an exploitative establishment, a

“den of robbers”

and likely not a great support to Anna.

2. In Luke we also have the story of the widow of Nain. – Jesus finds the widow of Nain at a funeral procession for her deceased son. And Jesus rises her only son back to life– and gives him back to her — which gives her back her social standing and her livelihood AND social connection. He restores her primary means of surviving materially as well as emotionally. Jesus raises her from the death of loneliness. In the midst of pallbearers, and townspeople, and a large crowd — Jesus is the one to show compassion and make a “life-giving” connection.

3. We then read the parable of The Persistent Widow. Where for the first time in Luke’s Gospel, a widow is given her own voice. She pleads for justice in front of a

“judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people”

and the widow is granted her request. She makes a new way, receiving justice from an unjust system — expanding her story of what a relationship with a just and loving God could be.

4. Lastly we have the story of the Poor Widow who gives all she has — two coins to the temple treasury. And we see again Jesus

“pitted against the temple authorities”

Jesus not only caring for the widow’s story but pointing out how the Sadducees used widows as subjects of debate and how the scribes used them as objects of exploitation. Jesus says,

“Truly I tell you, all of them have contributed out of abundance, but this poor widow out of her poverty has put in all she had to give.”

Jesus calls her worth and dignity to the surface — and at the same time criticizes the corrupt temple system which took all of her resources and offered nothing in return. No connection, no community.

This little rewind confirms that we shouldn’t be that surprised that resources and networks for basic economic, practical and social support are lacking for these Hellenistic widows — But we might be surprised that the neglect we witness – here in Acts – comes from the budding and growing community of Jesus’ followers. *wince*

The apostles have holy reasons and holy words for this — they say,

“it is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables.”

But in light of the stories we just read in Luke their exclusionary explanation seems to place them in the

“unholy alliance of unjust judges, hypocritical scribes and an exploitative temple system.” (Spencer)

This distinction of “the Ministry of the word of God” verses the “service or ministry of the table” makes me wince because notice that what is “not right” is not as much the widows’ predicament as it is the prospect that the 12 have to curtail their teaching ministry in order to help the widows. (Spencer) Talking about what might be “right” or “wrong” feels ill-placed when the basic human rights and need for love and dignity is not on the table.

“In effect the apostles co-opt the widows’ ordeal: they suppose that their right to proclaim the word is as much in jeopardy as the widows’ right to receive food. While they proceed to map out an effective plan for meeting the needs, the Twelve still punctuate their proposal reiterating that , “We, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word”. (adapted Spencer)

And there’s a way to wonder — well, what’s the big deal? Everyone seems happy here — the widows are fed, the 12 get to keep doing their apostle-thing — all is good.

BUT — Luke’s Gospel repeatedly exposes the 12’s proclivity to promote the ministry of teaching and preaching at the expense of the service of food at table, in contrast to Jesus’ pattern of transcending any distinction between the “sacred” and the “secular.” What is deemed to be “sacred” on the surface — Prayer and teaching and preaching is not interconnected with Jesus’ presence, listening and liberating these widows from material and physical oppression.

And the cost is that no life-giving connection is experienced — by either the apostles or the widows. The widows plead here, in Acts, for recognition as much as for food. And the apostle’s recognition of the sacred in human form is missed.

As a scholar of this story says,

“The Twelve lay their hands on the seven men to be appointed to the “charity ministry of widows”– but keep their distance from the widows — they don’t lift a hand in that regard.” (Spencer).

WIDOWS

Quick action is taken — a solution is crafted and put in place (a fix!) — but in such quick action it seems apparent that there is

“a posture of trivializing not only the needs – but the personhood of the widows”

their voice, their complaints, their concerns — their full multidimensional selves. It doesn’t seem that the apostles get that curious about these widows, their stories — their lives.

The apostles lumped the widows into a stereotype — telling a story that had already been written for them. A lowly, destitute group. A group that was “needy” — that could belong kind of in an annex to the Christian community they were growing. Missing of course the need that would bind them all — the need of human connection.

The widows were surrounded by people, by crowds, by whole people groups, by judges and court personnel, by the religious and the sacred — but personal and human encounter and connection didn’t happen. Their stories weren’t listened to — new stories weren’t possible. They were lonely.

Can you imagine if the apostles had just given the widows a safe space to grieve and eat? Can you imagine the “word of God” that would have spread from these widows mouths — what a ministry that would have been. I mean not as much a “teaching ministry” — but a “living ministry” – I guess.

Vivek Murthy says that

“loneliness is the subjective feeling that you’re lacking the social connections you need. It can feel like being stranded, abandoned, or cut off from the people with whom you belong — even if you’re surrounded by other people!* What’s missing when you’re lonely is the feeling of closeness, trust, and the affection of genuine friends, loved ones, and COMMUNITY.” (8 Murthy).

And there are three dimensions of loneliness

Intimate loneliness — where there is a lack of a close confidante or intimate partner —
Relational loneliness — where there is a lack of quality friendships and social companionship and support
Collective loneliness — a hunger for a network/community of people who share your sense of purpose/interests.

*This explains why you could have a very close, supportive partnership – a great marriage — and still feel lonely for friends/community. (8 Murthy)

It’s why loneliness is considered a health crisis — it’s why the Surgeon General has laid out a strategy and commitment to taking actions to establish connection with others as a core value of this nation.

It’s so important because

“such a world, where we can recognize that relationships are just as essential to our well-being as the air we breathe and the food we eat, is a world where everyone is healthier, physically and mentally. It is a world where we look out for one another, and where we create opportunities to uplift one another. A world where our highs are higher because we celebrate them together; where our lows are more manageable because we respond to them together; and where our recovery is faster because we grieve and rebuild together.” – (Murthy)

In 2016 after the election — The People’s Supper (org I mentioned at the start), visioned these very same things as they set out to hold those 100 dinners in 100 days post election. Yet in a nation whose relational social fabric was already so splintered — coming to the table was the hardest barrier to crack.

They underestimated the vulnerability, the trust and the time that it takes to come back to a table- a nation – a social fabric that had in many eyes failed them. Yet they keep trying. Their recent initiative called “breaking bread and building bonds” is a partnership with the mayor of NY holding 1,000 meals citywide — to these same ends — believing that social connection can mend and heal. Very much an on-going work in progress.

This is the holy work — cultivating relationships — inside and outside of a church building.

At Reservoir we are invested in continuing to grow and create the Beloved Community we are called to be — one where

“loneliness and nihilism are replaced with connection, sacred purpose, and respect for human dignity, where we recognize that our own wholeness and flourishing is tied to the flourishing of others” (Russell 231- 232).

Where we not only welcome everyone without exception but we try our best to create environments of belonging. And learn with humility from the missteps we make.

As you heard we are running Beloved Tables — meals for connection. I have been referring to them as the “warm up thing” that gets us ready for the “real thing” — for saying “yes” to community. But I think they actually are “the thing.” They are the tables where being seen, heard, and known is what’s being served. It is believing that every person and voice matters and embracing our diverse stories — held by the binding force and energy of God’s love that keeps our universe moving, where rich connection and constant curiosity exist.

COMMUNITY GROUPS

You’ll have a chance today to learn more about our community groups by visiting this link. And my goodness I wish I could tell you all the amazing stories I’ve been in the presence of in community groups — how much embrace, how much stretching and connection has occurred — but they aren’t my stories to tell. But I CAN tell you they’ve influenced my story, they’ve broadened and expanded my view of God in ways that far exceed only the traditional “sacred” ways of knowing God — stories of musicians, and cancer-survivors and artists and rejection and heartache and parenting and single-hood and aging… it’s all there. The story of life. That we get to write together, with Jesus right in the center guiding us along.

Connection, my friends — it’s how we’ll thrive — it is what will save us unto the Kin-dom of God here and now.

Prayer…

God we pray with trust and trouble and hope in our hearts. Help us oh God to find one another above the noise, and the distractions — help our fractured and sensitive hearts — Hearts that are made to love and scared to love too…bring us into your deep embrace and sustain us with meals, and mercy, laughter and learning, forgiveness and freedom — unto a community of beautiful people – who are still learning what it is to follow you today.

Help us today, God. Amen.

Resources

Book: Together | The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World, Vivek Murthy

“Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation”, 2023 | The U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community

Article: “Neglected Widows in Acts 6:1-7”, F. Scott Spencer

The Catholic Biblical Quarterly , Vol. 56, No. 4 (October, 1994), pp. 715-733

“Hello” to Wide Open Spaces

Well folks this is the last sermon before we start our more organized sermon series for September and beyond. Next week we’ll start our series that we love to return to each Fall — “We are Reservoir” — followed by a meaningful new series that will lead us into October and November.

What I love though about our summer weeks is that while for the most part we preach on whatever we feel so led to speak on — our sermons sometimes unsurprisingly play off of one another. An affirmation not only that we pay attention and listen to one another, but also that the spirit of God is at work, summoning us to listen deeper.

Steve’s sermon last week (if you didn’t have the chance to hear it, I encourage you to find some time to do so) it’s one of those experiences that completely undoes you and also somehow puts you back together again in a 25 minute span.

So if at some point this week you feel like

“You know what I need right now? To be totally re-arranged — I need some heart whiplash!”

like in a good way — listen to Steve’s sermon. He talks about the beauty, the ache of what it is to love, and the gift of what it is to be present to what is, the “‘what-is’ of now”, to find reality as the friend of God.

I had noted in our sermon planning document that this week I’d preach on Psalm 118. And as I listened to Steve’s sermon I thought,

“great! This follows suit” — one of Psalm 118’s more well known verses is “this is the day the Lord has made – let us rejoice and be glad in it!”

And I thought —

“oof, I need that truth as the summer ends (and the days get shorter, and colder and darker)… I need these words as an embodied practice as I look at our national landscape this Fall… and for all of the reasons it’s a beautiful daily reminder of what a gift each day can be.”

However, as I returned to the Psalm this week — I kept being drawn to the first few verses — would you read them with me?

Psalm 118: 1-5 (Common English Bible)

1 Give thanks to the Lord because God is good,
because God’s faithful love lasts forever.

2 Let Israel say it:
“God’s faithful love lasts forever!”

3 Let the house of Aaron say it:
“God’s faithful love lasts forever!”

4 Let those who honor the Lord say it:
“God’s faithful love lasts forever!”

5 In tight circumstances, I cried out to the Lord.
The Lord answered me with wide-open spaces.

These are the verses we’ll explore and take in this morning. We’ll think about tight circumstances, wide-open spaces and what that means with a backdrop of God’s enduring faithful love — and we’ll touch on a couple of recurrent themes from last week’s sermon as well.

Prayer

God of this morning and every morning — help us to lean in as much as we can today. To you, to this community, to ourselves. Remind us what wide open spaces feel like. How it is to wander in them and explore and discover and be held by your loving presence even at the furthest edges – even when we are at the edge of ourselves. Help us to find the treasures of wonder and awe placed in these wide expanses and also placed in the micro moments of our everyday lives. Oh God of the ordinary and the holy — help us to find these truths wrapped around each other and us this morning. Amen.

I’ve been remembering some of my “back to school moments” which has been a notable exercise. So many of my memories are so clear and detailed — I can quickly feel the energy, the emotions — a lot of it really revolving around choosing those first day outfits. For me, this also entailed writing in sharpie on my white, canvas sneakers whatever brand name was in that year — Keds, Capezio, Esprit. Making sure I wasn’t labeled as the poor kid with department store shoes on, ugh — so many more memories — all of them key formative moments of my childhood. I could quickly tell you a story of every “Ivy” that was represented in each era. Especially the culotte era (which wasn’t of my choosing), but it overlapped with the Milli Vanilli era — which surprisingly worked really well together.

Similarly, my first day of grad school was memorable — I met one of my very best friends in my first class. Who still is one of my very best friends. We synched up for a group project and she invited me to a Celtics game and we got to learning each other’s stories rather quickly in the nosebleed seats of the Garden.

She was at a pivotal juncture in her life — leaving a job in the corporate world of which she had hustled and put herself through college — and was now exploring this whole new field of public health and advocacy. The impetus was the abrupt death of her Dad, leaving her unmoored with grief and questions and a fierce drive and determination to make sense of it all, find answers and create a new path. *more on this in a moment*

Psalm 118

Psalm 118 is one of six Egyptian Hallel Psalms that were recited during the Passover and other major Jewish festivals. The Hallel Psalms celebrated the deliverance of Israel from Egyptian slavery.

These Psalms (113 -118), much like the Hebrew word “hallel” from which the word “hallelujah” originates, give thanks and praise to God — highlighting the characteristics that distinguish God from other deities of the time. The repetition in these first four verses of “God’s faithful love that lasts forever!” is as much a profession as it is a lived experience of the ancestors and people of God. A song to be sung and a story kept alive of not only a God of the heavens — but one to be found in the fleshy, Earth-level journey of life as well.

Parts of these Hallel Psalms ripple through the Gospels. On the occasion of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem — annunciating the joy, the hope, the celebration of the messiah, the savior everyone had been waiting for. And it’s also thought that some of this Psalm was sung at the end of the Last Supper – as Jesus and his followers hoped that this good God could help as God had done in the past — make a way forward in the excruciating hours that would come.

This is a Psalm of thanksgiving and of praise.

And what’s to be noted about a psalm of thanksgiving is, that first of all, it is a response to a heard lament.

It’s why this verse 5 — after the rousing community praise of such a good God — stands out to me, let’s read it again,

“In tight circumstances, I cried out to the Lord. The Lord answered me with wide-open spaces.”

I don’t know — it could be just me —

But there is something about this verse, maybe this translation – that just catches my breath. A knowing of that feeling in your body? Tight spaces. Points in your life — in a day — where you just can’t get enough elbow-room from your circumstances, or the thoughts in your head, or the hurt, or the worry, from the voices that threaten to shape you into narrower versions of yourself. Not enough elbow room for anything to slide in alongside — -not hope, not faith, not a prayer.

And yet it says,

“In tight circumstances — the Lord answers with wide-open spaces.”

Another translation says,

“in my distress – the Lord answers with freedom.”

Gah.

Psychologists say that common causes of psychological distress include:

Traumatic experiences
Major life events (even if those major life events are positive)
Everyday stressors, such as workplace stress, family stress, and relationships
Health issues
Financial difficulties
Losing a job, a loved one, or a familiar routine
Discrimination, oppression, or microaggressions

Which — sounds — you know, like a lot of life. Pretty all encompassing.

And so what do we do with that!? What’s the answer to such a plethora of tight spaces?

This too, is what my grad school friend was trying to get to the bottom of.

STORY

If there’s one thing about my friend that was and still is true — she loves a good answer. What’s that saying,

“there are no stupid questions, only stupid answers?”

Yah she would say,

“there are only good questions and good answers.”

And she was truly on a hunt for those good answers. Her Dad’s death had left her with mounting spiritual questions — and also questions about what types of cancers get research funding, who gets into trial pools, who gets all the information about treatment and access — what societal barriers exist and how do we change them! She was going to shape those answers into being… if she had to single-handedly do it.

And while centering her life around this, while in the wake of immense grief — studying, interviewing and starting over — my friend also would find out that she was losing her hearing.

Throughout her life she had periodic appointments and adjustments to her hearing aids. But it was never clearly relayed to her that her hearing loss was progressive. So progressive at this point that hearing aids would no longer do anything. And her choices were to be implanted — to get a cochlear implant — or carry on as long as possible with lip-reading. And as you might imagine my friend felt locked in to a body that was betraying her — grief and fear were more audible than anything.

Grief and fear know no bounds. They seem to both prowl in the wide open spaces of our lives and also lock us into tight spaces.

“Locked-in”

In the gospel of John there is a scene that plays out between the resurrected Jesus and his disciples that I think helps us imagine some ways to move from tight spaces to wide-open spaces with God. The scene reads like this in

John 20:19

“the doors were locked where the disciples were… for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” (John 20:19)

Jesus appears among them. The last they saw Jesus he was being killed. But here is the resurrected Jesus — free of his tomb. He stands with the disciples who are locked in a tomb of grief and of fear. Fear of the Jewish authorities, fear of themselves, fear of Jesus who is now with them. And yet Jesus appears and doesn’t chide or admonish, instead he says

“Peace be with you”

which in the Aramaic of his day was simply a standard – ordinary – greeting.

“Hello.”

Hello

“welcoming them to a place of deep encounter: encounter with themselves, with their fear, with each other and with the incarnate one in their midst.” (Back cover of In the Shelter, Padraig O’Tuama)

God’s faithful love lasts forever, and sometimes our way to experiencing that is by simply saying “hello” to what is in the room with us.

The good questions my friend kept asking on repeat, (in a variety of ways) were

What does this all mean?
And what does this mean of God?
How do I greet this day? This life?

We both were pulling from our childhood faith traditions and experiences (hers Catholic and mine evangelical), to make sense of these questions. Questions that she & I knew weren’t just hers but were universal questions of being human. And we were trying on answers that had long been formed for us.. Trying our best to evolve our faith — bringing new ideas and ancient paths together. I absolutely know that early on in our conversations — our many, many late night conversations that I offered her answers — written in Sharpie — that kept her locked in a tight space. Answers that were “on brand” to the Christianity I was raised in — like “well you know ….nevertheless God’s faithful love lasts forever.” And she’d call my bluff — she’d say “you know that’s fake.”

Now, here’s the thing — it’s not fake. I do believe that faith is rooted in the unconditional never-ending love of God. And a verse like this one, “God’s faithful love lasts forever” is a promise of God, BUT IT IS also an invitation to a lived experience of such a promise, and such a love and such a truth. And that is very different than an answer. It is something to discover in our loneliest places and our deepest questions, one to be explored, one to wander around in a bit, to be doubted — as much as regarded as undeniable, unshakeable in our laments in our distress. Because then it really can break open and give voice to what needs to be heard in our spirit in our body — and that is freeing.

In the midst of losing all of her hearing — my friend found she was listening to and greeting her life in a different way. She took on a spiritual practice of sorts of telling the truth of the things happening in her life — of saying “hello” to these things even if she didn’t like them, even if they weren’t convenient, or wise, or holy, or easy, or CERTAIN.

Jesus shows these disciples and us the art of greeting our life as it is — greeting it with fear or not fear — or greeting the fear with which you greet your life. Greeting it with integrity.

Jesus again and again throughout the gospels greets people who are in tight spaces or who have been put in tight places — and invites them into freedom. Most often, by greeting them where they are at — right where their story intersects with God’s story. As rough and undone as it might be. This is an honest faith, a real faith.

The woman with the condition of bleeding — he greets her in the tight margins of her life, at the edges of society, at the edges of a cloak — and invites her into the abundance of compassion and belonging and love.

The woman at the well – – he greets her in her thirst for being known – and invites her into the expanse of compassion and belonging and love.

And he greets a tax collector Zaccheus, and he greets lepers, and a centurion, and a eunuch, and Matthew, Mark, and Martha, and Thomas and Judas, and Pontius Pilate, and Philip and Simon, and Mary, and you and me. He greets us with “hello,” and opens our stories unto wide-open places — unto compassion and belonging and love and mercy and hope. And to the wild and beautiful journey of this world — where we hope our stories melded with the story of God can create more than destroy.

My friend got two cochlear implants. And I was with her on “activation” day, witnessing sound and music be part of her story again. Over the last 20 years (or so), I’ve gotten to witness her story evolve. Continue to say ‘hello’ to her real emotions, her on-going questions, and (quite literally) “hello” to new people she’s met — and ‘hello’ to becoming a public policy advisor at the State house for disability access. “Hello” to the director of disabilities for the State of Massachusetts. Her advocacy work was fueled by the stories she listened to — the stories of people who faced challenges and who challenged the status quo, the stories of people who were protested against and those who protested the answers of law-makers that said “it’s just the way things are.”

Their stories.

Her story.

God’s story.

Breaking open — wild and wide-open spaces — never before perceived.

I met up with her recently for dinner to celebrate clear margins after a surgery she had, “hello to beating breast cancer.” And as we clinked glasses, she said

‘everyday is truly a gift, if we could only fully unwrap it.’

I guess part of the gift is in the ongoing unwrapping — and the answers we so often seek are in our unfolding stories — who said,

“God comes to us disguised as our very lives?” (Paula D’Arcy)

I think that’s true — our very lives, our stories that aren’t finished. Our stories that are nestled in the story of God. These are stories that can’t be contained — In the gospel of John it says,

“Now there are also many other things that Jesus did, many other stories. .. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”

Jesus is continuing to open and unfold our stories unto wide-open spaces .. they are indeed still being written as we live our very lives. Our lives, in the small moments of every day hold so much that is larger — so many treasures that allow us to feel the truth of,

“God’s faithful love lasts forever.”

“God’s faithful love lasts forever.”

In these unknown months ahead, I need these direct promises of God front and center — without any nuance – the goodness of God just laid bare. I need them to be spoken and shared as everlasting truths. Through stories and through scripture and through cries — the goodness of God, the mercy of God, the steadfastness of God, the God that will never leave or forsake us, the God that is for us, that will help us. Believing that there is contagious hope in the power of such truths, believing that there is more wide open space than I can perceive. A wide open space where we can be curious, and dream and imagine together new ways of being human to one another – – to being a nation to other nations — new ways of weaving our stories together — ancient and new.

And much of that starts with facing and saying “hello” to what is .… A potent spiritual practice. I want to leave us with a poem that is a prayer, a blessing, a practice all-in-one. Perhaps you can continue to unwrap it in the tight spaces you might find yourself in — and adapt it to be your own.

I invite you to close your eyes — and take in the words of poet and theologian Padraig O’Tuama of which this sermon is greatly inspired by, here you go:

Neither I nor the poets I love have found the keys to the kingdom of prayer and we cannot force God to stumble over us where we sit. But I know that it’s a good idea to sit anyway. So every morning, I kneel, waiting, making friends with the habit of listening, hoping that I’m being listened to. There, I greet God in my own disorder. I say hello to my chaos, my unmade decisions, my unmade bed, my desire and my trouble. I say hello to distraction and privilege, I greet the day and I greet my beloved and bewildering Jesus. I recognize and greet my burdens, my luck, my controlled and uncontrollable story. I greet my untold stories, my unfolding story, my unloved body, my own body. I greet the things I think will happen and I say hello to everything I do not know about the day. I greet my own small world and I hope that I can meet the bigger world that day. I greet my story and hope that I can forget my story during the day, and hope that I can hear some stories, and greet some surprising stories during the long day ahead. I greet God, and I greet the God who is more God than the God I greet.

“Hello” to God’s Faithful love, that lasts forever. – -Amen

—- Padraig O’Tuama

Going The Extra Mile

We live in unprecedented times…at least it feels like that…

Wars
Famines
Storms
Division
Depression
Hatred
Suffering
Injustice
Loneliness
Anxiety

A decaying environment . . . on many fronts.

And the truth is — if history has anything to say about this — is that all of those things are not unprecedented. Empires have been built, wars have been waged, people have exercised power that has tortured and destroyed before.

Perhaps it feels unprecedented because we do have *more than ever.* The technological advancements and access to knowledge and resources that would suggest we’d be well served by not “rinsing and repeating” the worst of history. Suggesting we should be healthier, more relationally connected, wiser…

And yet we live in an amplified reality, with voices and opinions and overwhelming amounts of information in surround sound. And the depth of hatred, the breadth of despair is so visceral — compounded by the unhinged and scary clip by which we continue to tear apart our human fabric –this all does indeed feel unprecedented.

And in the wake of such speed and unrelenting bombardment of *everything* it is certainly easy to feel like “giving up,” or avoidance, or hiding behind the guise of “civility”, or escaping into whatever it is that’s easy for us to escape into … are the best ways to live. And it might very well be the ways by which we survive — but not how we flourish. Because what we start to lose — is not only our soul — but our sights of one another.

We gather here this morning because we seek to embody a faith. A living, life-giving, honest, courageous faith — a faith that courses through our blood carrying with it the voices of our ancestors who remind us that within our cruel history is also the remarkable and magnificent precedence of kindness, solidarity and love. Unending influence that is also seeded in our landscape today that keeps our strength from atrophying. And we gather here today in part — because we know that we need each other. We need each other to cultivate hope, to empower one another — to remember that we are designed for love — to give and receive of it — with all our hearts, souls, minds and strength.

And boy, do we need that reminder more than ever!

Today I want to talk about how Jesus calls us to not give up — to “walk the extra mile” and to bend toward community as we do.

Prayer

God sometimes our souls can feel scraped raw from the injustices that are moving throughout our country. Our souls can feel tired, fed up. Could you help us this morning? Could you help us to center down? Could you refresh our hearts, reinvigorate our minds and bodies — and strengthen our souls for the work of our days. And for the work you call us to — which is love.

STORY — Getting Towed

A couple of months ago at the end of my highschoolers April school vacation — I decided to take them on a quick trip to Philly. My other daughter is in college near there, and while she was not on break, we thought we could basically follow her around campus until she had a moment to have coffee with us or something.

Because roaming a college campus was our only agenda for the couple of days we were there — I made reservations for dinner in Philly for the last night so that we could have a designated intentional time together. And it was the best plan. We found a parking spot right next to the restaurant, it was lightly raining but we sat outside in this warm, cozy enclosure. We took our time, didn’t rush — and it was just a good time where I was conscious of the “specialness”, the “extraordinariness” of the moment.

We left brimming with *all the things* — satiated with food and laughter and I felt so grateful.

And then we rounded the corner to where I had parked and the car wasn’t there.

My heart sank — knowing this was not a great scenario.
I entertained the argument ensuing between two of the kids — one suggesting that perhaps we were just looking on the wrong street — – and the other insisting we had indeed obviously been towed.

Indeed our car had been towed.

Turns out Friday night at 8 p.m. is a great time to visit a tow lot in South Philly and learn a little bit about what Jesus might invite us into when he says that we should “walk the extra mile.” And I’ll circle back to this story in just a minute — but let’s take a quick look at where this phrase originated and the context.

SCRIPTURE

This phrase originates in the teaching of Jesus found in the Gospel of Matthew:

Matthew 5:41

“If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.”

It’s situated in Jesus’ famous Sermon on the Mount — where Jesus presents a radical and counter-cultural vision of what it means to live as a follower of God. It challenges societal norms, religious practices, and personal attitudes , calling for a transformation of heart, mind, and action that reflects the values of God’s kin-dom rather than a super power empire.

Where this verse lands is where Jesus is flipping the Old Testament principles of reciprocal justice measure for measure —

“an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”

Under Roman military law – Roman soldiers in the streets – could ask a civilian to carry their equipment — their “pack.” And as a civilian you were required to submit to this request.

Often donkeys would carry packs – so this request is dehumanizing – it’s humiliating to Jewish civilians.

But under military law – a soldier could only ask a civilian to carry the pack “one mile”… to force the civilian to go further carried with it severe penalties for the soldier.

So for Jesus to say,

“when you hit the one mile mark – KEEP GOING”

is not a move to aid and abet the enemy… It is a strategic, wise move.

Can you imagine as the civilian starts to walk the extra mile – the soldier having to say

“aw, please – can I have my pack back?”

It’s a subversive move for the oppressed to turn the tables on the oppressor – and assert their human dignity into a situation and recover the initiative.

The rules in this time were Caesar’s (and they did not change immediately) – but HOW ONE RESPONDS TO THE RULES could be in real time and sustained those who had no choice, or freedom.

For us, this “go the extra mile”, is an invitation of how to live NOW. To live as we think human beings should live — in defiance of all that is bad around us.

Speaking of bad —

Back to being towed in Philly.

As I stood there on the sidewalk in the rain not really knowing what to do, I called the phone number on the street sign for the Philly Parking Authority. In the midst of listening to the long, long automated message there was an option that said, “if you’d appreciate a call back from a person enter your phone #.”

I frantically did that — while simultaneously learning that the Philly Parking Authority would open on the next business day at 9 a.m. Which it was currently Friday at 8 p.m… meaning I had a chance of getting the car on Monday. I was scheduled to preach that Sunday — and every other preaching pastor was on vacation. So I felt ….… relaxed.

In that moment — my phone rang… and it was a woman from the Philadelphia Parking Authority who proceeded to give me the address of the tow lot, confirm that my car was there and told me how much $$ it would be to get my car out.

A 15 minute Uber ride later….

The four of us arrived at the tow lot. A super special place.

I can’t quite articulate how much dread flooded my body as I walked up the steps to this long narrow trailer — entering to find 50+ people squished in. Someone quickly filled me in on what the protocol was — you get in the first line (indistinguishable from any other line) — to pay your fine. And then you get in the next line to show your license, insurance and registration. Of course for 90% of the people the insurance and registration is IN their vehicle. Which means you need to go back outside and stand in line to access your vehicle beyond the barbed wire gate — and then come back to the trailer line and stand in line again to actually show your documentation.

Some people had been there for six hours, seven hours, eight hours.

It was hot. People are breathing on you.

I mean this is a perfect setup for people to lose their absolute minds…

But people weren’t!

People were talking to each other, not looking down or at their phones — they were offering a seat to the mom who has been holding the wriggly two-year old — not worried about their spot in line. People were offering to translate for a couple of people who did not have any documentation and for whom English was not their first language — offering suggestions or ideas to help in some regard. My son was playing with little kids on the floor, and the staff was also helpful and willing and leaning ‘in’, listening …

People were simply kind. Gentle even. Patient.

Not just civil to one another.

But actively kind.

Which felt like … ‘care.’ Care of one another at a baseline.

Solidarity.

I’ve watched my husband Scott recently care for his mom who’s been sick — with this same attention — kind and gentle. Helping her eat, adjusting her oxygen tubes, raising a straw to her mouth,

“do you need anything mom?”

“are you doing ok?”

Palliative care. Palliative questions.

Palliative simply means — kindness and gentleness.

It is to offer comfort, dignity, and support — TO INCREASE the QUALITY of LIFE even as they face something bad, even as they die.

Friend of Reservoir, Gareth Higgins says that

“few of us feel like we’re dying — but all of us are…”

This is just a plain fact.

But it also speaks to the state of our souls — and the soul of our nation….slowly dying. (Or rapidly!)

It’s got me longing for what a palliative nation could be — that tow truck trailer one micro example, an extraordinary example — and Scott’s care for his mom a very specific special example… but couldn’t it illuminate the ordinary.

And for sure — a more

“palliative world demands huge systemic and structural change. But in others, it only demands the tiniest of personal shifts.” (Courtney Martin)

And it might be what it means to “go the extra mile” for us today.

Throughout Jesus’ life he embodies a palliative way of being.

His attention to those left to die on the outskirts of the dominant culture. His invitations to gather at a table, to share a meal, to kneel, to turn, to see the face of, to physically heal — but to also bend people back to community — to restore people by way of social and spiritual reintegration. We see this with his interactions with people afflicted with leprosy, the woman with the issue of blood, the man possessed by demons living in the tombs, Zacchaeus the tax collector , the paralytic, the disciples themselves — a bunch of outcasts and oddballs who again and again gathered at a table in community sharing purpose and meals.

Bending people back to community. Not just for the individual’s wellness — but for the community’s flourishing — and it’s more than just niceness or ‘welcome.’ Cole Arthur Riley, says that she has a friend who calls this mutuality, the truth that says

“we don’t just welcome you or accept you; we need you. We are insufficient without you.”

One part’s absence renders the whole impoverished in some way, even if the whole didn’t previously apprehend it. In mutuality, belonging is both a gift received and a gift given. There is comfort in being welcomed, but there is dignity in knowing that your arrival just shifted a community toward deeper wholeness… toward a better quality of life. This is the work of going the extra mile.

Luke 7:11-17 New International Version

In the gospel of Luke we see Jesus raise a son back to life and return to his widowed mother. In scripture it reads,

“As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her.

13 When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”

14 Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!”

15 The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

16 They were all filled with awe and praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.”

17 This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country.

I didn’t remember this story when I was reading through Luke this week.

I remembered the story right before this — the one of the centurion and the centurion’s servant being healed, and I remembered the one of Jairus’ daughter and Lazarus — all raised from the dead.

Here we have “a widow and her son” — unnamed.

Jesus — making his way through a small town – to John the Baptist.

We don’t know the story of these two.

There’s no obvious status. No power. No specific friendship or relationship with Jesus — just strangers along the way.

But we do know the underlying fundamental story of life and death. Of grief and sorrow. Of suffering. Of life being ruptured by pain.

The story of being human.

Story Part #3

In the tow trailer — when someone would receive the approval to go get their car… we would all rejoice. And to me , the celebration wasn’t only “Wahoo — you are out of here– cheers!” it was “wahoo look at us — we behaved magnificently” … We were human to each other — even to the guy with the incredibly offensive t-shirt.

We defied the tug of all that is bad around us. .. and we defied the tug to behave badly. Because if ever there was a place to behave badly — I don’t know a tow lot trailer might be the place.

And isn’t that a victory?

I mean isn’t that a daily victory. It’s the extra mile we are invited to walk each and every day.

The tug of cynicism and pessimism and judgment and giving up — is strong.

Simple gentleness and kindness is defiance. Nnot just a way to bypass the injustices of the day — but a way to face them and create a new way — and that feels like a miracle when it’s experienced.

The “extra mile” that Jesus walked here isn’t in performing the miracle — it isn’t the raising of the dead… although I’d totally get that if you thought that.. You’d have a point.

The “extra mile” is his posture of the heart… right? The part where it says

“his heart went out to her.”

The noticing, the attention, the validation of what it means to be a widow in that context, and then the action ….

“his heart went out to her.”

This is the news that spread of Jesus. His embodiment of care and love.

It’s here that the crowd can say,

“God has come to help his people.”

He’s come to help. And

“Oh, don’t we need help!”

The help we need as Jesus shows us here — is to remember that the “meaning of life is about trying to learn how to love and be loved” — and to stand in the face of all that tries to decimate that truth.

I know in that tow lot trailer that some folks could have been experiencing the hardest days of their lives (and not the being towed part) — and part of going the “extra mile” is to tune our hearts toward that possibility, to not shut them down —

So that we can act like

“we know that everyone we meet is undergoing life as well as experiencing it. That it is likely on any given day that we will encounter people who don’t think they’ll make it to the end of that day, or who have reason to not want to wake up tomorrow.” (Gareth Higgins)

To go the ‘extra mile’ is to honor humanity and elevate dignity — even when you don’t know the entire story.

Today we stand in a national — a global landscape where it looks like it would take miracle upon miracle upon miracle upon miracle to restore the past. To bring all that is desecrated, decayed, dead to life.

And that is right it would take a miracle.

And I don’t even know if that is the miracle we want or need.

Maybe we need to look forward — dream forward. If we hope to shape the world — for future generations — perhaps we might think of what we seed into this world. How we forge a way forward with growing abundant communities, living in a way that engages our full humanity. With simple kindness and honesty and courage and solidarity seeded into each long mile that we walk…. Seeds that fruit and when crushed — ferment – – and seed again.

Dave Murray says that

“most of us want to be a force –and I’m all for that! — we need vigor and action — but Jesus also calls us to be a taste.”

A taste of the kin-dom we want to create and grow here and now on Earth.

So can we go the extra mile?

Could we offer simple, kind, palliative care to ourselves — and to others?

Believing that prioritizing love over anything else is not only a human way forward — but it is also a sacred and divine way forward where Jesus comes alongside — calling us back to life — calling us to “get up.” Calling us to something better than we usually settle for — something we can only create together.

TAKEAWAYS

Here are a couple of practical tips from Gareth Higgins — founder of the Wild Goose festival. He’s a beautiful, brilliant writer, — subscribe to his Substack if you want, The Porch. He recently offered some helpful thoughts that might get us going that extra mile together:

Tell the people you know that you love them, and that they matter.
- Bend them back to the voices of the community of saints, that usher out the truth saying “you are a beloved child of God, and no one can take that from you, no matter what.”
Reflect on your impact on others (unconscious and conscious)
- Where it has hurt them — ask for forgiveness
- Where it has been life-giving, do more of the same.
Ask for what you need before the need overcomes your ability to ask.
Don’t hoard anything but friendship, so that you can share it without becoming lonely.
Tend carefully what you “own”, and share it widely. “Own” perhaps literally — but also resources, time, capacity, access to power — share it.
Don’t let resentment overwhelm your boundaries, and forgive quickly, or at least don’t take revenge.
In encountering strangers, act palliatively. For we are all, always, in rooms with dying people. We should treat them – and ourselves – with appropriate honor.

SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

As we end this morning, I want to give you a minute to consider this phrase, “going the extra mile” . . . what does it stir in you?

Maybe it’s a posture of heart?
Maybe it’s something tangible?
Maybe it’s a person that comes to mind?

Maybe it’s the nation. All of the above — and more? Take a moment and consider what “going the extra mile” surfaces for you?

The Wisdom of Shiphrah and Puah

We are coming to the end of our “Wisdom” series – with one more week to come. Where we’ve been dipping into some of the wisdom literature – Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes, Psalms — to mine these books for wisdom – to line the pathways of our real lives. In hopes of helping our lives “work.”

When we started this series, I didn’t realize we’d be finishing up right around the end of the academic year. It’s when the energy in this Cambridge/greater Boston area shifts -*relaxes*- a little bit. With finals, and dissertations being submitted, with graduations — and celebrations — marking of another year complete.

More drops of wisdom in the wisdom bucket.

I was talking with my college student, Elle — who is home for a bit — and I was like,

“Can you believe you’re officially a Junior?”

And she was like

“shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh — don’t say that too loud –it might be real…”

And between the shushing — was the tenor of things I’ve felt before – that I feel now – the expectation of being wise/er. The realization that with advancement (whether study, or years in a job, or age ), there should be a parallel “up and to the right” trajectory of wisdom.

And we give plenty of accompanying questions that set up that tenor over a span of a life — like:

“What are you going to do with your life?”

“What are you doing with your life?”

“What have you done with your life?”

I like to imagine how Wisdom herself would respond to those questions? Likely very directly.
“My life?” — well, I plan on living it. Or I’m currently living it, or I have lived it.

And to offer those answers not smugly, but with clarity, with a deep immovable knowing.

Wisdom, as we’ve been talking about these last few weeks, is to live our very life as it comes to us, and as we come to it…. with the spirit of God alongside.

Wisdom is a nurturer, a cultivator of all life. Wisdom isn’t choosy or selective — it asks us to partner with her in ALL THAT IS this “wild and precious life” — and to take on courage as we do. Because “wild” doesn’t mean linear and predictable and “precious” doesn’t mean we get to choose what is “precious.” A life that “works” is to believe that we can and we will live ALL of this life (as many as the days we have), — with all of who we are and with all of who God is — and it will matter to all who we encounter. This is wisdom.

I want to offer a story from the Bible today that I revisit again and again in my own life — especially when I feel void of wisdom. It’s a story where courage and wisdom kind of go hand in hand (so you’ll hear me mention both sometimes interchangeably throughout the sermon) — because it is almost always courageous to embody wisdom.

This story is found in Exodus and it is of these two women.

Two midwives.

Whose names are Shiphrah and Puah.

They break open a whole host of helpful ways to think about wisdom – anchored to their utter belief and embodiment of the way they live their lives WITH God.

Prayer

Thank you God for this new morning – – for your love that embraces us just as we are. Thank you for gathering us here — promising us that you have something in store for us — whether we recognize it, can name it — or not… could you help us to feel your presence. .. your comfort today, your rest, your joy, your peace — could you nestle it deep in our hearts, in our bones — and remind us that no one can take away such love. In the strength, the courage, the resistance, the creativity and the wisdom you give, Amen.

Lessons From a Bird

A couple of weeks ago a few of us from the staff went over to Wilson’s Farm and picked our own tulips. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and the rows and rows of these flowers blooming in every possible color was stunning. So much beauty, so much budding life.

And oddly, kind of right in the middle of all these rows was a square area roped off that said “bird nesting here”. As a couple of us drew closer to inspect — there she was this small bird, called a killdeer standing over three speckled eggs.

In the past I apprenticed on a farm for a few years and I knew this bird immediately. Killdeer love to lay their eggs in fields, Actually they aren’t picky at all they lay their eggs in patches of gravel wherever they can find it – sides of tennis courts, corners of driveways, parking lots (they prefer the ground) – and it often coincides with where there is a lot of human activity.

I don’t know about you — but this seems pretty unwise, not wise – without wisdom.

There’s so much potential for danger. So much potential life at stake.

Seemingly a consistent source of fear and threat.

And yet I stood there watching this bird — standing so still — with three of us looming over her nest, her eggs, casting huge shadows.

And she was so Calm. Steadfast. Unflappable.

So convinced she seemed of her role to be with her eggs, to stay… to stay so close.

I said out loud:

“Good job momma.”

It was kind of moving to me — this immovable tiny bird.

The Midwives’ Courageous Choice

We often enter the story of Shiphrah and Puah through a more well known story — the story of Moses. Many of you probably have heard the epic story of Moses – this Hebrew baby who was drawn from the water and raised in Pharaoh’s courts and becomes not a prince, but a liberator of his people. These people, the Israelites, who have been enslaved and considered less than human by the Egyptians – it’s the story of the great exodus from Egypt into the promised land.

This story of Moses is the one we know… But we don’t as often visit the story of Shiphrah and Puah – the story that sets the stage for baby Moses to grow up and live, and a story that in some ways determines the fate of an entire people.

So let’s read the story together:

Exodus 1

8 Now a new king came to power in Egypt who didn’t know Joseph.

9 He said to his people, “The Israelite people are now larger in number and stronger than we are.

10 Come on, let’s be smart and deal with them. Otherwise, they will only grow in number. And if war breaks out, they will join our enemies, fight against us, and then escape from the land.”

11 As a result, the Egyptians put foremen of forced work gangs over the Israelites to harass them with hard work. They had to build storage cities named
Pithom (Pye-thahm) and Rameses for Pharaoh.

12 But the more they were oppressed, the more they grew and spread, so much so that the Egyptians started to look at the Israelites with disgust and dread.

13 So the Egyptians enslaved the Israelites.

14 They made their lives miserable with hard labor, making mortar and bricks, doing field work, and by forcing them to do all kinds of other cruel work.

15 The king of Egypt spoke to two Hebrew midwives named Shiphrah and Puah:

16 “When you are helping the Hebrew women give birth and you see the baby being born, if it’s a boy, kill him. But if it’s a girl, you can let her live.”

17 Now the two midwives feared God so they didn’t obey the Egyptian king’s order. Instead, they let the baby boys live.

18 So the king of Egypt called the two midwives and said to them, “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting the baby boys live?”

19 The two midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because Hebrew women aren’t like Egyptian women. They’re much stronger and give birth before any midwives can get to them.”

20 So God treated the midwives well, and the people kept on multiplying and became very strong.

21 And because the midwives FEARED GOD, God gave them households of their own.

Understanding the Context and Their Calling

A little context to where we pick up here – The Israelites had moved to Egypt during a time of famine and starvation. Joseph had been sold into slavery in Egypt as a result of his jealous brother’s action and had helped the Israelites land here. Joseph’s time in Egypt was blessed by God – and he worked his way into high standing in Egypt – and the Israelites fared well. And for a while the Israelites and Egyptians coexisted without (that much) trouble.

Soon though, a new King came into Egypt – and it says “He did not know Joseph”. This means he didn’t know Joseph’s people or his God – and therefore he looked out at the Israelites with fear and suspicion and saw them as a threat, as the “other.”

He attempts to limit the growth of the Hebrews – who only seem to grow in number, by dehumanizing them in systemic ways – by slavery, and forced labor and oppression. These attempts however don’t seem to make a difference.

So Pharoah enacts a fear campaign,

“What if we were attacked by our enemies and these growing number of Israelites – join sides with our enemies?”

“We would be crushed!”

And this fear messaging – starts to shift the opinion of his people – and there’s more of a widespread buy in – to oppress and segregate.

Pharaoh’s xenophobia pushes him to take drastic measures to ensure these “outsiders” do not one day take over the land – and his latest attempt as we see here – is calling forth these two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah. Under government sanctions Shiphrah and Puah are enlisted to participate in the extermination of Hebrew baby boys. To bring death to the world around them.

Now the text reads that these women were Hebrew midwives… and yet there’s a lot of conversation among scholars that suggests that these women were in fact Egyptian – but attended the birth of Hebrew women. So they were midwives TO Hebrew women.

I’m inclined to agree with this take – it makes sense to me that Pharaoh would want his own “people” to carry out this decree…

This means Shiphrah and Puah likely attended both Hebrew and Egyptian births. And midwives were often thought to be women who couldn’t have children themselves, so they were often pushed to the edges of society. Shiphrah and Puah, are thought to possibly be Nubian midwives, from now Northern Sudan — meaning that their relationships, throughout their vocational lives – spanned cultural and geographical lines.

A midwife’s primary role is to usher in life, regardless of status, race or any other defining division… To stay close, to assist, guide and protect life.

So Pharoah’s quite strategic with his newest attempt to limit the growth of the Hebrews. He knows that these midwives are the touchpoint to life or death.. And he decrees, “choose death.”

I can imagine Shiphrah and Puah wondered what wisdom would say here —- Because the options seem so stark — EITHER we are courageous and 1) we refuse to follow Pharoah’s orders and we likely die and likely our friends and families also die.

We aren’t courageous and 2) we follow Pharoah’s orders – and we promote the sovereignty of our state – and by the work of our own hands, bring death to the next generation of Hebrew males.

Thankfully wisdom’s favorite spot seems to be in these perceived “either/or” scenarios… it seems to be the very spot that wisdom cries out! Right in the middle of this gritty life — with threats all around wisdom surfaces in their path — in an unimagined way.

The text here says that Shiphrah and Puah

“fear God.”

They revere and love and trust God. Their belief in God – seems to be a way of harnessing wisdom and courage… and it seems as though it isn’t only found in this one high-stakes moment with Pharaoh – but it’s been built and developed over their WHOLE lives…

Fearing God – helps them imagine beyond the binary – to reframe wisdom beyond having to have a “right” choice – a “yes or no” to Pharoah – it’s instead about saying “yes” to LIFE with God. *And here opens the field of new possibility — right? — the birthing ground of wisdom*

These midwives – are courageous! They are divinely defiant! And they are wise. They’re heroically brave in their refusal to kill baby boys, they’re clever in their explanation to Pharaoh of why baby boys keep being born,

“these Hebrew women are so strong and vigorous that they birth their babies before we can arrive!”

… the wisdom in that response – isn’t just an excuse to buy them time – it’s a subversive move to uphold the strength and dignity of the Hebrew people to Pharoah.

As I mentioned, Shiphrah and Puah were likely midwives who attended their own people’s births- -but also the births of their “perceived enemies.”

These midwives were involved deeply… deeply at the center of women and their community and family stories. To just go in and assist at a birth – is not the way of the midwife. A midwife is one who sits and STAYS steadfast with people in pain and confronts spirits that are full of despair and want to give up.

Day after day – birth after birth they came along-side the “other” – these Hebrew women, who they should hate … and they take their hands and rub their backs… And they say again and again … there’s a way here… “God is here”…. This breaks open a deep belief that courage and wisdom well up from inside of us…. That it’s not only found in taking on a piece of armor for a moment of courage or a moment of wisdom at a crossroads. Their God is one who sits alongside of them too – is in their reality – A God who doesn’t just go to the margins to serve someone else – but ONE who LIVES at the margins.”

These midwives do this, they live at the margins…. And in their vocation, take on a calling, an oath to “in all ways attend to all of life”… And the courage they dip into – is God’s, because they believe that God is truly with them. And they greet pain – the pain of childbirth and the pain of injustice and the pain of not being seen… with these virtues of God. A living God.

I can wonder if those questions —

“So what are you planning to do with your life? Or what are you doing with your life?”

grate on us sometimes because we wrestle with deeper ones already — does what I do matter? Does it touch real life? Has it brought forth anything new or wise into the world?

Wisdom in Everyday Life

These midwives seem to encourage us that “yes” – wherever we are – whatever we do, whoever we talk to – matters. That if we do it with kindness and generosity and equity, backed by a God that is real… It all matters.

These 1,000’s of moments where they offer their laboring and birthing mother’s – cool washcloths to their foreheads… where they gently turn babies inside of wombs – where they listen closely for heartbeats … where they root for life! With their encouraging words, “yes push”, “you are almost there”… “life is coming”…

These times of being so intimately close to life – and so close to God – rewire our pathways to see the movement of GOD AND the movement of all of our LIFE as one… beyond political/authoritative decrees OR external circumstances or opinions or power – that try to inject fear.

For Shiphrah and Puah – these moments compile and develop a courageous heart – and whether Egyptian or Hebrew – male or female …the passion for justice and care for all of humanity – becomes a non-negotiable with a real, good, and living God close to us, who stands with us in the threats, the war zones of this wild life.

Omid Safi (a Duke University professor of Islamic studies) said recently that this closeness (to God), is what allows us to see that the

“love we recognize in other people — people who love their babies and their community — is the same love that we love our babies and our community with… AND when we recognize this same love in one another, we will not stand for having something happen to other people’s babies and community that we wouldn’t want to have happen to ours. That is simply what we call justice — and this work of justice is BIRTHED out of a heart wrapped in wisdom, courage and love. (Onbeing reference).

The courage and wisdom to say “justice and love” must go hand and hand.

This is the powerful picture of wisdom that Shiphrah and Puah give us today, one that they still invite us to!

It turns out when killdeer feel as though their nest is truly threatened they put on what’s called a “broken wing act.” If a human gets too close to their nest, a killdeer will splay its wing out awkwardly and appear hurt, dragging themselves across the ground — moving away from their nests. It’s a subversive / distraction tactic that often lures humans away from stepping on their nests. Humans of course thinking they could help a tiny bird follow the killdeer — until they are a safe margin away from the nest — and then magically the killdeer flies away.

Their dedication to nurturing life is full of wisdom after all.

Perhaps it’s bird instincts, primal — perhaps it’s this specific species genetic make-up — it’s been in their design, in their DNA — for centuries.

So is true for us my friends. The wisdom of Shiphrah and Puah and the spirit of God lives in our bodies — in our DNA — too.

I’m slowly beginning to realize that the question at hand isn’t either

“Am I with wisdom?”

“Am I without wisdom?”

Because likely on any given day – I am both Wise and really not wise. The question is,

“can I harness the wisdom of a God that is always with me?”

That’s a helpful reframe for me because life is hard…

And otherwise – I think the threat of disparaging thoughts can take over – Am I only destined to be a prisoner to the pharaohs of my day? Will I ever witness something other than pain and heartache?

But the words of Paul in Ephesians, fill out my truncated thoughts – with the power and realness of Jesus…

He reminds me that,

I am not a prisoner of anyone else – but of JESUS who wraps me in humility and gentleness and patience – who gives me the wisdom to continue to lean toward people with love – with an eagerness of heart that seeks to maintain the unity of the Spirit – this powerful Jesus who makes a way – for the bonding posture of peace. … This is the power of Jesus.

Jesus makes way for wisdom that is ever-present, running through our veins, on the tips of our tongues, in the palms of our hands as we touch life around us – and in our feet as we roam this earth.

We are all called to be wise and courageous. And to believe that our everyday posture of heralding life – in spaces where only death looks apparent – will produce change – somewhere down .. the line…

The outcome that Shiphrah and Puah witness after making their courageous move to not kill these Hebrew baby boys – could have felt disappointing to them…. Because Pharoah just keeps marching on with his plans to wipe out these babies – demanding that all his people throw them into the Nile River.

BUT they did *briefly* prevent a genocide of children! AND what Shiphrah and Puah wouldn’t have seen at the time – is that their story – their WHOLE story of being women who courageously live at the margins, and who so wisely stood against power and oppression – would and IS continued to be told. That their names will be kept alive – and whispered among the Hebrew women – that their names will be yelled out in the pains of labor, as sign-posts of resistance and hope, (when their land is vacant of it) – and that their courage to say “we fear God”, would give Pharaoh’s daughter, and Moses’ sister and Moses’ mother the courage to protect & hide and find and nurse him to life.

These names of Shiphrah and Puah are recorded! We get to see them written down in the text that we read today! This shows us that a lifetime of wisdom, empowered with the Divine – is worth 3,000 years of remembrance and legacy – and still worth talking about today….While Pharaoh’s fearful acts of dominating power and authority – leaves him nameless and less than 300 years of fame…

Perhaps our role is akin to the role of a midwife – to cherish other life as our own – to regard it as “precious” – to stand right where we are in our jobs and roles and play and live – and reclaim these paths, these places as fields and gardens of abundant wisdom.

Key Lessons From Shiphrah and Puah’s Wisdom and Faithfulness

Some lessons we can learn from Shiphrah and Puah include:

Obedience to God over man: These courageous women in the Bible chose to obey God’s law rather than Pharaoh’s command to kill newborn Israelite boys. This act demonstrates that even in difficult situations, sometimes the right choice requires defiance of those in power.
Fear of the Lord: They feared God more than Pharaoh, understanding that His power and authority superseded any earthly ruler. This fear led them to act justly and compassionately, even when it put them at risk.
Integrity and courage: Shiphrah and Puah demonstrated courage by their biblical defiance against injustice and standing by their actions, and they displayed integrity by not falsifying their reports to Pharaoh.

Frequently Asked Questions

Here are some answers to some questions about this sermon:

What Is the Wisdom of Shiphrah and Puah?

The wisdom of Shiphrah and Puah lies in their God-fearing obedience and their life-affirming defiance of Pharaoh’s decree. These women in the Bible understood that true wisdom meant prioritizing God’s will and the sanctity of life over the demands of oppressive power. Their quick thinking and strategic deception demonstrate a practical wisdom that allowed them to navigate a perilous situation while upholding their moral and spiritual convictions.

What Does Shiphrah and Puah’s Story Teach Us About Courage and Defiance?

The story of Shiphrah and Puah is a testament to courage and defiance in the face of oppression. Despite Pharaoh’s order to kill all newborn Hebrew boys, they chose to disobey, fearing God more than the king. Their actions highlight the importance of faith, obedience to God and the courage to stand up for what is right, even when it’s difficult.

Join Us This Sunday

We invite you to our Sunday service to discover how faith empowers us in our daily lives, just like Shiphrah and Puah. Visit us in person or tune in to our YouTube channel this Sunday.

Staying Found

This morning I want to talk about the concept of “staying found” and how it engages the theme of wisdom.

“Staying found” is a phrase that I learned from the Appalachian Mountain Club. It’s often a concept highlighted in compass and maps classes as well as search and rescue training. Staying found is a set of tactics and checks and balances that help keep you safe and aware for any adventure outside. Staying found acknowledges the reality that we will likely get lost at some point. That we will encounter the “unease” in our bodies when the well-trodden path no longer looks the same. When our intuition – the orientation to ourselves, to one another, to God – gets mixed up by the wilds of life.

I appreciate this lens because it makes “getting lost or being lost” feel less like an aberration or something bad — but actually a way to expand our way of doing life in a healthy and free way. Staying found suggests to me that we all have a compass available to us at all times, this being WISDOM. And that wisdom herself is everywhere. In endless markers and landmarks along our journey – but it takes a bit of practice – some risk, some mistakes, some joy, some delight, some creativity – to truly engage wisdom. To become wise ourselves.

We are new in this Wisdom series that will run until Memorial Day. We hope this series will open up the richness of wisdom found in the Hebrew bible, the Old Testament. Today we’ll look at the book of Proverbs – which is full of earthy and piercing and kind of funny lines of advice like:

“If you don’t have oxen, at least your barn is clean.” (14:4)
“Bad people trip over their own lying lips. Good people don’t have a lip problem.” (12:13)
“It’s better to eat veggies in a house filled with love than to eat steak served by someone who hates your guts.” (15:17)

As odd as some of the proverbs might sound they are full of specific, immediate, and practical instructions.

“Full of teaching of wisdom concerning respect for the poor, the importance of generative work, the danger of careless speech, the risk of deep debt, the hazard of having the wrong kind of friends.” (Brueggemann)

And while some of the Proverbs are conveyed through specific forms of conduct — they point us to these big questions:

What does it mean to be human and who are we to each other?
How do we want to live and who will we be to each other?
What makes life work? *Especially when we might feel lost.*

Prayer | Thanks for this space this morning to be together. I take it for granted sometimes. But it’s meaningful. Could you help bring that meaning to life. Could you move us — beyond words, and songs, and place — could you move us by your Spirit which is unexplainable — but oh so felt. — Amen.

STORY

I live close to the Blue Hills Reservation — like a 3-5 minute drive depending on where you want to go. The Blue Hills is a 7,000 acre state park with trails that stretch from Milton to Quincy to Dedham to Randolph.

I have spent A LOT of time in the Blue Hills over the last 19 years.

When my kids were little — I would drop them off at school or preschool — and then head to the Blue Hills for a quick hike. I generally would go to one specific area because there were a lot of intersecting trails — so on any given day I’d be offered some variety.

I knew the area pretty well and had gotten confident enough to not bring a map — having memorized most of the trail #s and markers.

One day a friend joined me. She is a serious hiker, bagging all the lists of all the hikes in the northeast — winter, spring summer fall – – all of it. So I knew we could cover the area I was used to moving in.

Timing wise I knew just about when to turn around to make that preschool pickup… from most points on these trails. This particular day we were hiking at a quicker clip and had picked up a different trail as we talked and caught up on life. And I thought it would be a simple “loop back” trail — but it wasn’t , or at least it wasn’t offering us that option in the time frame I needed.

I realized we weren’t going to make it if we didn’t find a way back — quickly. We stopped on the trail. My friend offered some WISE options like

“let’s just take a minute and consider our options”

“let’s figure out what direction we are heading in”

let’s think about what our last marker was and kind of pace that out…

This could have been a moment for me – where “Iron sharpens Iron”....

But I wasn’t really listening. I was starting to imagine all the possible scenarios that would come from being LOST — and the embarrassment I would feel as

1)the preschool flagged alarm when I didn’t show up, and as
2) DCR sent out rescue crews to look for us — on this tiny little trail, and
3) as the neighborhood Facebook groups blow up with chatter…

And I was like we just need to go! We just need to go straight up! OFF trail — just to the top so we can see where we are and hook up with one of the trails and have a better perspective.

And I just started going. Through bushes and over rocks and such.. Leaping and jumping like I was a regular mountaineer. And fairly quickly finding myself out of breath and unsure of how to continue about a ¼ of the way up. And only THEN wondering if I should have joined my friend in pausing — I also wondered if “wisdom” was a part of my actions at all?

This is a small story that exemplifies the many ways in my life I have at times felt overwhelmed, stressed, turned around. Where I’ve second guessed everything — in the everyday places and aspects of my life that I’m accustomed to. Where I have scrambled or sprinted out of fear or desperation or longing for some solid ground.

I don’t know about you — but in moments like these I find myself eager to anchor to something solid that offers a sense of grounding and identifiable mooring. And yet when that isn’t quick to appear — I can berate myself and say I’ll be better “prepared” for next time… with more knowledge, more information — a map that will clearly delineate a trusted and familiar path.

I want to be “smarter at life.”

So I’m not so taken out by life.

And this is a little bit of the mystery of human design – right? We have no lack of quest for information, knowledge, love. We all want to love, but as a rule we don’t know how to love well. And we all want more knowledge – but do we do so in a way that LIFE will really come from it?

What we all need perhaps is wisdom.

Proverbs 8 is a bit of an autobiography of wisdom – a self-announcement and speech by wisdom herself and it starts like this:

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

1 Doesn’t Wisdom cry out
and Understanding shout?

2 Atop the heights along the path,
at the crossroads she takes her stand.

3 By the gate before the city,
at the entrances she shouts:

4 “I cry out to you, people;
my voice goes out to all of humanity.”

“Wisdom” has a voice — and it is not a shy one! Wisdom summons all of humanity.
Wisdom is a greeter — at the entrance to unknowns she is there.
Wisdom is a sign-post at crossroads — a guide .
Wisdom is echo-ing across the peaks and the valleys of all of our lives. Searching for us — making sure we are “staying found.”

As we read more of this chapter — Wisdom’s identity continues to unfold and we pick up more in verse 22 and hear more what wisdom has to say for herself:

22 The Lord created me at the beginning of their way,

    Before their deeds long in the past.

23 I was formed in ancient times,

    at the beginning, before the earth was.

24 When there were no watery depths, I was brought forth,

    when there were no springs flowing with water.

25 Before the mountains were settled,

    before the hills, I was brought forth;

26   before God made the earth and the fields

    or the first of the dry land.

27 I was there when God established the heavens,

    when God marked out the horizon on the deep sea,

28 when God thickened the clouds above,

    when God secured the fountains of the deep,

29    when God set a limit for the sea,

        so the water couldn’t go beyond God’s command,

    when God marked out the earth’s foundations.

30 I was beside God as a master of crafts.

    I was having fun, smiling before God all the time,

31 frolicking with God’s inhabited earth

    and delighting in the human race.

Wisdom was present ‘before’ everything; she is the base layer of all existence. Before earth, and land and water. Before landmarks and paths and mountains and fields.

And wisdom was present ‘when’ God creates everything. When God makes and establishes and marks and thickens and secures. When shape and form are birthed.

All the while WISDOM is joyfully dancing, smiling, frolicking – she is up close and personal with God and the works of creation. Wisdom is the very movement involved in the process, the active energy all around. All the time.

It’s really a wonder that we could miss wisdom at all. That we could feel ‘lost’ or disoriented with such a consistent voice and presence in the very architecture of our world. Shouting to us, crying out to us.

STORY

I did not pause to consider wisdom — as I was lost that day in the Blue Hills. I didn’t care about “staying found.” I cared about “not being lost – not being seen as a fool.” And yet some might say my actions and decisions were fairly “foolish” — thinking “all things were possible through Ivy Anthony” — incurring scrapes and slips and some serious scramble. I panicked and bolted. And when I got to the top I didn’t actually gain perspective that was helpful. It wasn’t any quicker to locate the trail we needed to be on.

As it turns out it’s fairly challenging to locate and garner wisdom. And I want to mention two reasons this might be so —

1) the first is because we can lose track of ourselves.

Howard Thurman

The theologian and mystic Howard Thurman in his 1980 Spelman commencement address says that we do miss wisdom. And for valid reasons.

He says,

“that there is so much traffic going on in our minds, so many different kinds of signals, so many vast impulses floating through our organism that go back thousands of generations, long before we were even a thought in the mind of creation, and we are buffeted by these…”

and we can get lost in these…

So in the midst of all of this we have to turn to wisdom. And Thurman says wisdom is to

“find out what our name is.

To ask,

“who are you?”

Thurman quickly answers,

“You — you are the only you that has ever lived; your idiom – your creative expression- is the only idiom of its kind in all of existence. And there is something in everyone of us that waits, listens for the sound of the genuine in ourselves and if we cannot hear it, we will never find whatever it is for which we are searching.”

The sound of the genuine is this place of wisdom within ourselves — where we are our truest selves, connected– anchored — and belonging to the love of God. That we are always found — even if we feel lost.

We live in a time when we are bombarded with words, images, and messages. We live in a time when things move quickly and we are expected to react and think quickly, too. We are rarely given the opportunity to sit and reflect, to let ourselves sink into questions and nuances that are often ignored. We are rewarded for being quick and left out if we are too slow.

“Wisdom, however, rarely sits on the surface of things.” (enfleshed.com)

This is why pursuing wisdom is a personal spiritual practice. If it didn’t require our intentional effort, wisdom would not have to “raise her voice” or come to the center of town to try to call out to us. She comes in pursuit of us, because we are often encouraged in different directions. And there is so much that makes it difficult to hear her, perceive her, to recognize her.

But Thurman says if we cannot hear the sound of the genuine in us,

“we will all of our life spend our days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls…”

Thurman says “stay found.” “Stay found” — there is a lot — a lot that competes — a lot that drowns out the sound of the genuine, the voice of wisdom.

“Don’t be deceived and thrown off by all the noises that are a part even of your dreams, your ambitions, so that you don’t hear the sound of the genuine in you, because that is the only true guide that you will ever have, and if you don’t have that you don’t have a thing.”

We need to cultivate the discipline of listening to the sound of the genuine in ourselves. This is wisdom. This is to *stay found.*

The second reason wisdom evades us is because we are accustomed to wisdom in a particular form.

The markers of wisdom are often defined and found in very specific expressions. Often in the well-educated, those in power, the privileged.

But Wisdom cries out, not only to the privileged of the world but to “all that live.”

She makes herself accessible to everyone. She does not require particular training or access to institutions. She meets us in the middle of our lives, where we already are. (enfleshed.com)

Jesus did this too, right? Jesus challenged sexism, patriarchy, misogyny and discrimination in general over and over, and shows us that the margins are sources of deep, divine wisdom.

But still we struggle to value wisdom when it comes in alternative shapes. When it breaks from the same, same, same paths that for generations we have trod – we kind of are comfortable in those deep ruts. But those deep ruts block the view of those who might stand at the crossroads crying out to us with wisdom and yet are again and again ignored — loop after loop after loop.

I read recently that Einstein began his life with a profound faith in the social good of the scientific enterprise — but he then watched German science hand itself over to fascism. He watched chemists and physicists become creators of weapons of mass destruction. He said that science in his generation had become like a razor blade in the hands of a 3-yr old. He began to see figures like Gandhi and Moses, Jesus and Buddha and St. Francis of Assisi, as

“Geniuses in the art of living.” He proposed that their quantities of “spiritual genius” were more necessary to the future of human dignity, security, and joy than objective knowledge.” (4 Tippett)

“Knowledge is like flour — but wisdom is bread.” — Austin O’Malley

We have knowledge but it is falling through our hands – empty of its potential – when not mixed with all the ingredients, the voices, the beauty of those around us.

It would be wise of us to continue to interrogate who gets the mic – the press – the books – the power – the attention of the world. It seems that “spiritual geniuses of the everyday are everywhere. And yet those in the margins do not have publicists. They are woefully below the radar, which is broken.” (Tippett, 4)

So if our own radar — of knowing who we are deep within — is a little wonky and off, and the radar that puts people on the map of humanity is broken. Then we do need a recalibration. We do need wisdom.

CHURCH

Matthew Fox an episcopal priest, says we need wisdom-seekers who will

“shake up all our institutions—including our religious ones—and reinvent them.”

People who will not be afraid to Imagine. Dream. Even “play” a little. Fox says,

“change is necessary for our survival, and we often turn to the mystics at critical times like this — a mystic being someone who goes beyond intellect. Jesus was a mystic shaking up his religion and the Roman empire; Buddha was a mystic who shook up the prevailing Hinduism of his day; Gandhi was a mystic shaking up Hinduism and challenging the British Empire; and Martin Luther King, Jr. shook up his tradition and America’s racist — white supremacist– society.”

Scholars are in significant disagreement about translations of the verses in Proverbs that we read. Wisdom says,

“I was beside God as a master of crafts”

— some scholars believe the translation of “master of crafts” could be “child” or “nursling.”

Not like the definition of “master” we are used to — where we have conquered the learning, understanding, and knowledge of an area of study.

But like a child — a toddler — skipping and delighting — and exploring — and creating — and falling down — and trying again — a master of a playful, creative boundary-bending energy at work.

This wisdom is necessary. Americans are fleeing churches and fleeing the Christian faith, including its evangelical expressions. The Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI) finds that around one-quarter (26%) of Americans now identify as religiously unaffiliated, a number that has risen over the last decade and is now the largest single religious group in the U.S.

Changes and reform are urgent, and we need new relationships, new networks, and new partnerships to do this as well as we can. We need wisdom.

Father Richard Rohr commented on how disappointed he is that “we” in the Church have passed on so little wisdom. Often the only thing we’ve taught people is to think that they’re right—or that they’re wrong. We’ve either mandated things or forbidden them. And this doesn’t make room for a) creativity b) our own intuition and sound of the genuine or c) even the value of failure that can lead to wisdom…. We haven’t helped people enter wisdom’s path.

Wisdom though — seems to believe there are still possibilities among us.
She’s still calling, shouting, whispering to us — “you aren’t lost” — (not totally lost).
Stay found. Stay found.

I want to end with a spiritual practice that might help us orient to wisdom.

The Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC) puts out advice* for when you find yourself off trail, or lose your bearings. And I want to share them with you because they effectively point us back to wisdom – and to the sound of the genuine within and around us.

Grace.
The first step is to extend grace to yourself, as God does.
There’s no need to beat yourself up or inflict shame upon yourself — for the ways you feel like you’ve messed up – or should know better or more… for the ways you are afraid or overwhelmed.
The AMC says no matter how experienced a hiker you might consider yourself to be, no matter how many times you’ve been out on the trails, how many 4,000 footers you’ve bagged, how much expert gear you have… “You are not an experienced hiker when you are not on a familiar trail…. And even the same trails look incredibly different in different seasons — -just a little bit of leaf growth and underbrush — or snow cover — can really change the landscape of a trail.

So start by extending grace to yourself.
Release undo responsibility and shame.

Lord knows we all have a lot of hiking still to do in this life – and we don’t need that unnecessary weight.

Stop.

The AMC says, “Moving isn’t helpful until you know which way to go, and if you’re thrashing around in the forest, you can’t follow the next three steps they recommend.”

I invite you right now to stop. To truly be still. In your body, spirit and heart….

To fully stop in this way can feel discomforting and humbling – especially when it feels like every second is precious time that should be spent figuring out how to be “found.”

But the alternative, to charge, react, thrash our way through – without at least a brief pause – has the potential to make ourselves even more lost and disoriented.

So right now to the best you can, stop.

Quiet your heart.

Quiet your mind. Stop overthinking. Over analyzing.

Stop your body from moving.. Your leg from bouncing… Your eyes from scanning.. Your finger from tapping.

Just stop, and ask God to be close.

Stopping is the most powerful action that allows us to orient ourselves to Divine Wisdom/God.

Breathe.

“Anxiety can lead to panic, but breathing can help cool your nerves. If you don’t know where you are, staying calm will help you think clearly and figure out your next move.”

Breathing helps let all the feelings tumble through us. It lets the ones that we don’t need to hang on to, fall to the ground… and the feelings we do need to feel – to inform us – to help us clarify our next steps, stick. These feelings are the ones that drive our next steps, because they are often the ones that show us where our deep passion lies.

Possible next steps:

.. stay still or take a nap.
.. eat a snack. Drink some water.
.. look at your map again – with fresh eyes.

Take 3 deep breaths now. IN & OUT, IN & OUT, IN & OUT.

As you do, fully stretch out your arms – so that breath reaches through all of you…

Look for landmarks.

“This might be big, like a mountain, but it could be closer and more modest, like an unusual mushroom or a hollow log. The denser the undergrowth, the more observant you need to be.”

What are the landmarks of Divine Wisdom in your day?
- Maybe something big – a stress-free departure for church — wooo!
- Likely there are also some small, more intertwined markers of God’s presence too – in the undergrowth, the ordinary moments of your day.
Take a moment to consider where you have already seen the markers of God TODAY.

The more we take note, as a practice, to recognize these markers of God in our days – the more we can identify God in the brush, on the unmarked trails…. that we will surely journey on.

Lastly,

Listen.

“Most people who wander off-trail are within 300 yards of it—close enough to hear the voices of other hikers, which tells you which way to walk.”

So when you feel lost – listen.

Don’t just hear, but listen for God’s voice.

It’s there. Always.
What might God be saying to you?

What kind of day is God inviting you into?

What kind of path does God want to walk with you? Listen.

It is important when we are lost to stop & breathe, look for God’s landmarks & listen. This work is important work – not just for our journey – but for the next generation, and the generation after that, and the generation after that.

What trail markers will we leave?
What new trails will we cut?
What wisdom do we impart?
These are the questions of today.

Prayer: “Dear Spirit of God, our TRUE NORTH – thank you for being our guide. Help us to listen to your invitation to us now – maybe it’s that we don’t get back on the same trails we’ve been on so many times before… Maybe you want us to be bumped off trail right now.. But God could you promise to find us there… Could you promise to guide us still – through the darkest and thickest of forest – over mountains – and through valleys – could you, dear God, dwell in our spirit – BE OUR COMPASS – no matter how turned around we get?”

Sources:

1980 Spelman Commencement Address | Howard Thurman

Enfleshed.org | 2019

The Fires That Shape Us

I’ve seen a house burn from top to bottom once in my life — thankfully only once.
Ten years ago in Maine, this time of year — I watched it burn from the 2nd floor of the house my Dad grew up in. That 2nd floor was the perfect vantage point to watch birds float to the small roof below, and identify unannounced visitors pulling in the driveway coming to say their “last good-byes” to my Dad. It also gave a nice view of that house directly across the road that sat at the top of a short but steep hill. . . one that always was of interest in the winter as the owners gave test to their plowing and de-icing prowess – often skidding their vehicles to a merciful stop just before they joined the main road at the bottom.

Firefighters say that it only takes 30 seconds from the start of a fire for it to rage out of control. And only two minutes for it to overtake a structure. I think I had learned this fact in 3rd grade when Smokey The Bear visited our classroom. It scared me enough that I convinced my parents to put a metal escape chain ladder out my bedroom window for fire safety — which I happily used for many things unrelated to fires.

But on that unusually warm February night 10 years ago I bore witness – firsthand – to the uncontrolled power and speed of fire. The impact of the terror of fire – the screams and the cries …the damage, the destruction and the danger of fire.

It is true that fire is scary as hell.

In one minute life holds shape – heartbeats, and flannels, and chimneys, and snow shovels, and dogs barking — and in the next minute it is smoke and ash.

Today we’ll spend some time pressing into this theme of Fire as Danger – it is our 3rd week of Lent and we will wonder together:

1) why has the church used the imagery and metaphor of fire to put terror into the hearts of so many who are eager to experience the love of God?
2) What do we do when we are burned? When those around us are in fires?
3) And what potential does fire have to shape us?

We’ll look at the historic story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego who were thrown into a dangerous, fiery furnace and consider its contemporary messages for us today.

Before I pray for us, I would be remiss to not flag how intense this imagery of fire is… how it moves from the metaphorical realm to our lived reality in many ways. This week US Airman Aaron Bushnell died in the fires of self-immolation protesting the genocide of the Palestinian people. It is intense, hard, and it is real. As we move along in today’s service please take the space and care you need for yourself and the Spirit of God to be with you – with as much freedom as you need.

Let me pray for us:

My God(!) there is a lot to fear these days…so much is burning. There is a lot to rage against and a lot to fight. And so today we ask for your warm presence as we gather together. Help us to remember that you call us by name – that we are precious in your eyes, that you honor us – that you love us unconditionally.

And remind us that through every age of struggle, every era of hope, you are with us. And in the labors of liberation, could you sustain us with joy and courage?

We praise you God, because your presence is a force OF, and FOR life. Your love is like oxygen to our spirits – that fans the flames of all good things.

In community, we pray – – AMEN

It isn’t that surprising to imagine why churches would gravitate to the imagery of fire — I mean it is almost a flawless means by which to control. Fire’s destructive power is an effective symbol for fearsome threats of eternal suffering and torment for particular targets of divine or human judgment. *next week – fires of judgment.

Fire of course, leaves the symbolic realm and is a real experience of pain and suffering. We know – the minimal centimeters between the pleasure of warming your hands by a fire and the jolting pain of having them singed by fire – we know that a drop of boiling water, or a brush of skin against a hot pan — leaves its mark in blisters and searing pain for days. John O’ Donohue says

“a burn is unlike any other pain – it cuts to the soul.”

Therefore — threatening people with a future that is an eternal burning was the ultimate threat that could be issued against them. And for followers of Jesus who had witnessed heretics and witches and any other person deemed “deviant” burned at the stake – this wasn’t a far off threat – it was convincing.

FEAR – it’s how the church colonized the minds of its people with a blazing image of a controlling, angry, punishing God. A conditional God – a conditional faith. And even without an identifiable flame as a warning all the time, or words like “damnation” or “eternal suffering” always spoken from leaders… the smoke of this fear is what has been absorbed into our churches, our nation, our society — and for many of us, our bodies.

But… if we can roll back and look at scripture we can see that fire isn’t usually a weapon in God’s hands — it is violence from which God longs to rescue us.

Isaiah 43:1-5 (Common English Bible)

1 Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;

    I have called you by name; you are mine.

2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

    when through the rivers, they won’t sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire, you won’t be scorched

    and flame won’t burn you.

3 I am the Lord your God,

    the holy one of Israel, your savior.

I have given Egypt as your ransom,

    Cush and Seba in your place.

4 Because you are precious in my eyes,

    you are honored, and I love you.

    I give people in your place,

        and nations in exchange for your life.

5 Don’t fear,

    I am with you.

From the east I’ll bring your children;

    from the west I’ll gather you.

***
You will not drown. You will not be scorched. You will not be burned. I will be with you.

These are the promises that Isaiah pens to those in exile who are under the empire of Babylon. A people who had journeyed and suffered, who had been enslaved — then free, and now in exile. A letter to say “there is hope”, God has not forgotten you.

Remember your ancestors who kept their eyes on God. God who came in the column of fire that lit the path in their nighttime travels … remember your God as fire & light.

Remember fire that lit your ancestors’ way through the wilderness – that glowed as manna fell and warmed as the desert night temperatures cooled .. remember your God as fire & warmth & protection.

Remember that in the flame of fire — God spoke to Moses. The one who would lead your ancestors out of slavery.

God a column of fire. . . present, comforting, a spark of hope.

It’s a bold letter of promise. A promise on God’s behalf for rescue. To return home from exile. A promise that God is an unconditional God. An everlasting, proactive, persistent loving kindness – kind of God… toward all of God’s creation.

These were the promises I too believed. God will save. God will deliver those God loves from suffering. God will protect. These too were the promises my Dad believed.

They were the ones that stirred in our spirit as we watched the house burn across the street – as my brothers ran to help, as we called the volunteer fire department…

We clung to those promises because we too were watching as our father’s body was ravaged by a rare cancer that spread like wildfire through his body and engulfed his life in the blistering speed of four weeks time – before the age of 60.

It’s why my four siblings and I were all in Maine, on that 2nd floor. It’s why we could watch visitors pull into the driveway.

This house burning across the street at the same time – felt emblematic of our reality.

And we leaned on our faith — on these promises. We prayed the gut-wrenching prayers…

“God rescue. God of miracles – rescue, please.”

At the heart of the promise in these Isaiah verses is the rescue from floodwaters and fire.

But it is not literally true for everyone. It wasn’t true in our case with our Dad. There were Jews who died in the fires of Babylon used in their siege of Jerusalem. I know many of you have experienced and witnessed fires – suffering, pain, oppression – that does burn, does scorch, does hurt.

Here’s the thing when it appears that God doesn’t rescue or save… a conditional faith – with foundations of fear – develop/construct new promises that in suffering sound like,

“God has his ways that are bigger than ours,”

“everything happens for a reason.”

I heard those words over and over throughout the wake of my Dad’s death. And as so many of you might know — that is an additional fire to endure. Like a 3rd degree burn… I mean when you need a hand – or an emergency ladder, or a lifeboat or a lamp (as Rumi says), the worst thing you can be handed is a “reason.” That is not rescue. That is not the loving care of God.

It is a burn that asphyxiates and poisons again and again. It’s not the blatant “fire and damnation pounding from a pulpit” – but it is the same smoke.

Smokey the Bear says when you are in the presence of fire you should “Stop, drop, & roll.” Functionally, it is a life-saving technique to cease any movement that will fuel the flames — and LIMIT the harm of fire by depriving it of oxygen.

I knew if there existed one lick of this flame – of a conditional God – even way back in the corner of my subconscious – it would show itself, it would still be live. And I knew I had to be fully rescued from this – needed to extinguish it. I knew that it would be critical in stoking my own fire within for the good of this world, for the work of justice, and for the godly work of liberation.

I want to invite you to consider the story we’ll read together of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Perhaps a familiar story – it’s one that I remember from early in my childhood. One that was relayed to me as an example of the unwavering faith we were meant to have, the miracles that would unfold as a result, and a God who would cheer us on in such tests of life and faith.

I invite you to consider – as we read this historic one- your own story. The fires you’ve endured…the ones that you’ve been burned by — have been rescued from? How you have perceived God in those times.. And now?

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego and Daniel were taken captive during the period known as the Babylonian exile when the Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar – described by some as a narcissistic maniac – besieged Jerusalem. These men had impressed Nebuchadnezzar and so had been promoted to administrative positions despite remaining faithful to their Jewish beliefs. Except the conditions ramped up to show allegiance to Nebuchadnezzar – and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow down in worship of a nine-story tall golden statue that Nebuchadnezzar had ordered built, and the king became enraged.

And here we pick up the story:

Daniel 3:13-18 and 24-25 (Common English Bible)

13 In a violent rage Nebuchadnezzar ordered them to bring Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They were brought before the king.

14 Nebuchadnezzar said to them: “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: Is it true that you don’t serve my gods or worship the gold statue I’ve set up?

5 If you are now ready to do so, bow down and worship the gold statue I’ve made when you hear the sound of horn, pipe, zither, lyre, harp, flute, and every kind of instrument. But if you won’t worship it, you will be thrown straight into the furnace of flaming fire. Then what god will rescue you from my power?”

16 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered King Nebuchadnezzar: “We don’t need to answer your question.

17 If our God—the one we serve—is able to rescue us from the furnace of flaming fire and from your power, Your Majesty, then let him rescue us.

18 But if he doesn’t,….. know this for certain, Your Majesty: we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you’ve set up.”

Nebuchadnezzar has them bound up – and throws them in the furnace… and then we read this:

24 Then King Nebuchadnezzar jumped up in shock and said to his associates, “Didn’t we throw three men, bound, into the fire?”

They answered the king, “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

25 He replied, “Look! I see four men, unbound, walking around inside the fire, and they aren’t hurt! And the fourth one looks like one of the gods.”

The book of Daniel, set during the Babylonian exile, has something to say about history. It explores the vulnerability of people living under oppression. These three men — who were stripped of their Hebrew names — given these Babylonian names of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego have something to say about the

“choices faced by those who must either support a repressive regime or face certain death. And just how quickly the dangerous fires of empire overtake… Nebuchadnezzar wanted them to bow—forget their heritage, forget their legacy, forget their journey, forget their God, forget their rights, and bow down.”

(Rev. Barber sojo.net) Forget who they are — and that starts with de-naming them.

The name Nebuchadnezzar literally means “one who will do anything to protect his power.” That’s why Nebuchadnezzar built his towers. He built his tower more than nine stories tall – he put his name on his tower and everything he built, and then he put gold on his tower, and he promised that he, and only he, could make Babylon great again, as Reverend William Barber points out. (sojo.net)

He wanted control. He wanted power. He wanted worship. He wanted to be God.

But Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to fan this fire – they would not give oxygen to the flames of the religion of the king, the religion of greed, of fear, the religion of racism, the religion of hate.

Under oppression, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego knew who they were. And they knew who God was. A God that was inside the trouble with them – in the fire. God who they declared,

“even if God doesn’t rescue us — still we will not bow”

an unconditional God.

And as they come out of the fire – the attendants to the King saw that the fire had not harmed their bodies, nor was a hair of their heads singed; their robes were not scorched, and there was no smell of fire on them.

And Nebuchadnezzar

“Praises their God! And these three men say, “they trusted in this GOD and defied the king’s command and were willing to give up their lives rather than serve or worship any god except their own God.” (v.28)

This is a “strong, miraculous, unwavering faith” story — AND it is a story that extinguishes the voice of the oppressor, and it is a story that shows that

“in the midst of the burning – the oppressed can again and again try to liberate (unbind) themselves to show something more deep, more honest, and more powerful than the blazing!” (Dante Stewart)

And it is a story that gives shape to an image of God as a larger, freer, and more loving God than even surfaced the imagination of Nebuchadnezzar.

And it is our story.

A story that suggests the fires of this life can shape and transform us.

Friend to Reservoir, Rabbi Spitzer — who’s book, “God is Here”, we used to form a series last year — offers an image of the Divine that I found helpful in this conversation and one that I want to share with you as we close. Because ANGER is a big part of what we feel when we scan the landscape of our lives. When we think about the people we’ve lost – when we see the fires of injustice, and oppression that are not extinguished, and the actual wildfires (Texas), and the endless, unanswered calls for ‘ceasefire’ — we are angry and sad and angry again.

Throughout the Hebrew Bible – God’s anger does blaze as fire. Fire is unleashed at times – consuming complainers and rebels alike (188) – particularly when they refuse to accept the challenge of creating a new kind of society with God.

God as a “consuming fire” is also called “El qanna” (Kah-nah) – often translated as a jealous God. But also understood as a “heated divine emotion.” Some scholars suggest it is an essential attribute of God. . .but more like the intense heat, fire, and lava that flows from volcanoes.

One scholar Nissim Amzallag suggests that while “jealousy” is a sufficient description in the human realm – it is not complete in the Divine realm. When referring to God he says, it is more like the process of “Furnace remelting.” An ancient process where a corroded copper object is completely melted down in a furnace and the molten metal is then shaped/reshaped into something new.

In the ancient world it was not uncommon for divine beings to be associated with this concept – with the intense, transformative power of flame and heat.

Amzallag says

“this attribute of God was not viewed by Israelites simply as the destructive expression of anger by God. Precisely as in furnace remelting, it was conceived as a wonder– leading to a complete rejuvenation of creation” (189).

Completely reshaping of one thing into another.

In prophetic texts, God’s anger and the divine qanna (kah-nah) are connected both to the condemnation of oppressors and to a vision of transformation.

Collective anger at injustice, like the flames that erupt when God is angry – CAN ROAR – and seem out of control. Yet out of those flames can also come disruptive and necessary transformation. Anger is the work of love that protests an unloving world. And often the catalyst in the fire that opens up a new way through… a type of rescue that wasn’t given shape before.

Smokey the Bear (this is the last time I’m going to mention him – I promise!), also says that when a fire is raging another action you can take is to shut the doors – to limit the spread of damage. To protect & safeguard that which is susceptible to fire. And yet – preferred above stop drop & roll and shutting doors is to just extinguish the fire as quickly as possible – to not wait to see what happens, or think it will probably amount to nothing.

Now some of us aren’t always able to do this — but some of us have the energy, the capacity, the position, the privilege, the power – to do just that.

I took this role to be a pastor, a couple years after my Dad died – by which I took on a personal oath to “do no harm.” To spread no versions of God that demand unquestioning obedience, performance, exclusion of other people, political alignment, or conformity of belief. To never promote falsely constructed “reasons” for atrocities in the name of God — but to open up more ways that we can authentically find God in our lives with one another – in the fire, in the doubt, grief, in the ashes, and in the rubble. Life is precarious and often beyond our control, and this is part of what it means to know God too.

It wasn’t the “reason” that explains why my Dad died of cancer – but it did give new shape to my way forward… to see with clarity that to be a follower of Jesus — is to vow to shut the doors on any of the acrid smoke that tries to actually make Jesus unfindable.

Perhaps we do have an opportunity to hear a divine message coming directly out of our terror, our pain, if we are able to withstand it. And in moments when we can’t.. perhaps we need to hear again and again the promises from our ancestors that God will … as the verses in Isaiah say:

Bring us through the waters and through the rivers and through the fires…

And that in the midst of our times that suggest our world is indeed on fire – we might be able to hear these lines not just as poetic ways of describing tough times. But to remember that these words ring true of the most significant moments of liberation in Hebrew history. That with full context we could read those lines this way:

“When you pass through the waters like you did through the Red Sea out of Egypt . . and through the dry bed of the River Jordan into the promised land… when you walk through the fire like brothers Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego…”

It might help us remember this faith and these miracles are ours too. These these three boys who endured unspeakable horrors. Who underwent two fires: a physical burning in a furnace, and a prolonged burning, set ablaze by empire. And remember that they didn’t simply make it through the fires, somehow just embracing the violence of the empire politely and passively —

the miracle was their audacity. The miracle was their courage to stare down terror. The miracle was found IN the fire – where there WAS A GOD who says,

“the violent flames of EMPIRE will not and do not have the last say.”

Black preacher and author Dante Stewart says,

“empires may be able to enslave our people, plunder our resources; they may try to destroy both our bodies and our future. But in the midst of the burning, we somehow try to liberate ourselves, again and again — [‘remelting’]– giving shape to the audacious belief that one’s body, one’s story, one’s future does not end in this moment”

a promise of God… to ring in our ears today, as truth – and as a call to action.

Rabbi Spitzer says we don’t know if there will be a period ahead in our nation where a true “remelting” is occurring . One where the structures and the ideologies of racism will be melted down so that something new and better can emerge. Embrace Boston released a Harm Report this week — connecting the past to the present – the history of fiery harms to their contemporary impact of Black Boston….action in this direction.

We don’t know if it will be a period — where we’ll care for and investigate our actions and their impacts on our environment and climate …

We don’t know if it will be a period where we’ll regard our nation as part of a global community. . .

But we can do our parts to shut doors, limit harm, extinguish dangerous fires — and keep holding on to a faith that promises to transform us if we can hang in – to bring power out of pain, mercy out of meanness, love out of hate, joy out of sorrow, good out of evil, hope out of despair, and life out of the fire.

May God protect you, keep you warm, comfort you, and guide you in the days ahead.

In the name of the fire, the flame, and the light – Amen.

Sources:

Amzallag, Nissim.“Furnace re-melting as the expression of YHWH’s holiness: Evidence from the meaning of qanna (קנא) in divine context.”

Stewart, Dante. “Shouting in the Fire: An American Epistle.”

Casey Overton. Enfleshed.org

Reverend William Barber. Sojo.net “We Will Not Bow Down”