Sermon – A Culture of Thanksgiving and Generosity Rev. Sandy Lacey November 17, 2024
For the past one and a half years, I have been travelling to a Benedictine Monastery every six months for a 10-day retreat with other clergy women of different denominations across the United States. The retreat is led by wonderful Benedictine Sisters who have provided this kind of support, spiritual direction, and hospitality for over 20 years, applying for grants from the Lilly Foundation. It is a two and a half-year commitment on our part, and we are their last class that will be conducted in this manner. I will be forever grateful to the person who recommended this continuing education opportunity to me, for it has made all the difference for me in my ministry. Each retreat has a different theme in which we explore different ideas/approaches that have had, or will have, an impact to our ministry. Transitions, and the grief and loss that result from transitions, was the theme we explored most recently. It could not have come at a more opportune time. Many of us have encountered the grief of lost loved ones or lost dreams or lost hopes in our ministry contexts and/or in our personal lives. I think most of us in this room today recognize that nothing stays the same and that change is inevitable. It is part of life even though we often kick and scream our way through it. It has been my experience that whether we are talking about micro change on the individual level or macro change on a much wider scale, we can often talk a good game about how necessary change is until that change does not go in the way we expect. Then, remarkably, we sing a different tune. Change is hard – whether it is a good or negative change; and that is because in order for something new to happen, something else must die. Today’s passage from the Gospel of Mark is both prophetic and apocalyptic in its approach. Jesus predicts the destruction of the Temple – what is “great” in the eyes of the disciples. We think this Gospel was written either right before or right after the destruction of the Temple around 70 A.D. Remarkably, Jesus does not place any value in its destruction, just that it, like all human made buildings, systems, etc. are temporal. What follows is the apocalyptic part of the passage, intended for people who are encountering persecution and trauma. Apocalyptic literature in the Bible is meant to unveil a hidden truth. It is meant to encourage those who are traumatized to keep the faith and to persevere. The larger message of apocalyptic literature is that the trauma and difficulty will end eventually, and it will be messy in the meantime – wars, continued challenge and hardship, people in leadership positions claiming to speak in Jesus’ name, with the whole earth will reacting with earthquakes, famines, perhaps climate change. And then the Gospel writer frames these hardships/this messiness, interestingly, in terms of birthpangs. Something new will be born. Something I have read recently also made the connection between the trauma that faithful Christians experience and the eventual beginnings of new life. I read something this week from one of my favorite authors that he has been talking about for years. Evangelical Christian Brian McLaren posted the following on social media: Something is trying to be born and something is dying. A world of white supremacy is dying. A world of dominating, angry, greedy men (patriarchy) is dying. A world without concern for the planet itself is dying. A world of violence and power is dying. A world of religious supremacy, a world that measures value by wealth, not health, is dying. A world that works by domination and exclusion, not by collaboration and connection, is dying. A world of me first and not we first, is dying.
And like a dying, cornered animal, that dying world bears its teeth and its claws and it will destroy as much as it can before it is done.
If we only look at what is dying, we will feel despair. But something else is trying to be born. Don’t forget about it. It is not as loud and angry as what is dying, but it is more important. What is being born is beautiful and you know it because you feel it in you. The pain of these moments feels like death pains, but it is labor pains.
Valierie Kuhr says: The darkness (that one feels) is simultaneously the darkness of the tomb for what is dying and it is the darkness of the womb for what is trying to be born.[1]
I am grateful for his reminder that large change is really hard and we fight it with just about all of our being. And I am not just talking about elections here; I am talking about change in the church, change in our personal lives, change in our hearts. We do not really know what is about to be birthed, but we know the God who dreams it and is working toward it. And we can be sure of God’s help to weather through it. So, if you feel yourself under siege, if you are encountering pressure beyond what you feel you can manage, if you are encountering persecution or just name-calling, if you find yourself at your wit’s end; remember the early Christians to whom the Gospel of Mark is written. The N.T. word to them and to us is to hang on and be patient. You may have to fight for a while just like the early Christians had to do during their time. Hopefully, you will not have to face an arena full of hungry lions and certain death, but you may have to endure other forms of difficulty and persecution. The early Christians, in their time of trial, knew what to do: they knew to be patient and stay strong together, to stand alongside those who are hurting and being persecuted, and to not neglect coming together for hope and encouragement. Our other N.T. text today from Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi reminds us that it is also important to sing and praise God, even in the midst of difficulty. Paul writes this letter from a prison, so he is quite familiar with a little trouble in his life. Similarly, I find when I am struggling that it helps me to do a gratitude journal that reminds me that even in the midst of challenge, there might be a thing or two for which I can express gratitude. And gratitude always changes my perspective to a bigger picture that reminds me who I am and to whom I belong, in the best and in the worst of times. Jesus never told his disciples when the Temple would be destroyed and he does not answer all of our questions now. He does not tell us when, nor how long, we will encounter hardship and difficulty. He just tells us that to follow him will be worth it. According to Paul, it is always time to sing. Are you with me?
[1] Brian McLaren, posting on Facebook social media on November 06, 2024.
_____
[1] Brian McLaren, posting on Facebook social media on November 06, 2024.
For the past one and a half years, I have been travelling to a Benedictine Monastery every six months for a 10-day retreat with other clergy women of different denominations across the United States. The retreat is led by wonderful Benedictine Sisters who have provided this kind of support, spiritual direction, and hospitality for over 20 years, applying for grants from the Lilly Foundation. It is a two and a half-year commitment on our part, and we are their last class that will be conducted in this manner. I will be forever grateful to the person who recommended this continuing education opportunity to me, for it has made all the difference for me in my ministry. Each retreat has a different theme in which we explore different ideas/approaches that have had, or will have, an impact to our ministry. Transitions, and the grief and loss that result from transitions, was the theme we explored most recently. It could not have come at a more opportune time. Many of us have encountered the grief of lost loved ones or lost dreams or lost hopes in our ministry contexts and/or in our personal lives. I think most of us in this room today recognize that nothing stays the same and that change is inevitable. It is part of life even though we often kick and scream our way through it. It has been my experience that whether we are talking about micro change on the individual level or macro change on a much wider scale, we can often talk a good game about how necessary change is until that change does not go in the way we expect. Then, remarkably, we sing a different tune. Change is hard – whether it is a good or negative change; and that is because in order for something new to happen, something else must die. Today’s passage from the Gospel of Mark is both prophetic and apocalyptic in its approach. Jesus predicts the destruction of the Temple – what is “great” in the eyes of the disciples. We think this Gospel was written either right before or right after the destruction of the Temple around 70 A.D. Remarkably, Jesus does not place any value in its destruction, just that it, like all human made buildings, systems, etc. are temporal. What follows is the apocalyptic part of the passage, intended for people who are encountering persecution and trauma. Apocalyptic literature in the Bible is meant to unveil a hidden truth. It is meant to encourage those who are traumatized to keep the faith and to persevere. The larger message of apocalyptic literature is that the trauma and difficulty will end eventually, and it will be messy in the meantime – wars, continued challenge and hardship, people in leadership positions claiming to speak in Jesus’ name, with the whole earth will reacting with earthquakes, famines, perhaps climate change. And then the Gospel writer frames these hardships/this messiness, interestingly, in terms of birthpangs. Something new will be born. Something I have read recently also made the connection between the trauma that faithful Christians experience and the eventual beginnings of new life. I read something this week from one of my favorite authors that he has been talking about for years. Evangelical Christian Brian McLaren posted the following on social media: Something is trying to be born and something is dying. A world of white supremacy is dying. A world of dominating, angry, greedy men (patriarchy) is dying. A world without concern for the planet itself is dying. A world of violence and power is dying. A world of religious supremacy, a world that measures value by wealth, not health, is dying. A world that works by domination and exclusion, not by collaboration and connection, is dying. A world of me first and not we first, is dying.
And like a dying, cornered animal, that dying world bears its teeth and its claws and it will destroy as much as it can before it is done.
If we only look at what is dying, we will feel despair. But something else is trying to be born. Don’t forget about it. It is not as loud and angry as what is dying, but it is more important. What is being born is beautiful and you know it because you feel it in you. The pain of these moments feels like death pains, but it is labor pains.
Valierie Kuhr says: The darkness (that one feels) is simultaneously the darkness of the tomb for what is dying and it is the darkness of the womb for what is trying to be born.[1]
I am grateful for his reminder that large change is really hard and we fight it with just about all of our being. And I am not just talking about elections here; I am talking about change in the church, change in our personal lives, change in our hearts. We do not really know what is about to be birthed, but we know the God who dreams it and is working toward it. And we can be sure of God’s help to weather through it. So, if you feel yourself under siege, if you are encountering pressure beyond what you feel you can manage, if you are encountering persecution or just name-calling, if you find yourself at your wit’s end; remember the early Christians to whom the Gospel of Mark is written. The N.T. word to them and to us is to hang on and be patient. You may have to fight for a while just like the early Christians had to do during their time. Hopefully, you will not have to face an arena full of hungry lions and certain death, but you may have to endure other forms of difficulty and persecution. The early Christians, in their time of trial, knew what to do: they knew to be patient and stay strong together, to stand alongside those who are hurting and being persecuted, and to not neglect coming together for hope and encouragement. Our other N.T. text today from Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi reminds us that it is also important to sing and praise God, even in the midst of difficulty. Paul writes this letter from a prison, so he is quite familiar with a little trouble in his life. Similarly, I find when I am struggling that it helps me to do a gratitude journal that reminds me that even in the midst of challenge, there might be a thing or two for which I can express gratitude. And gratitude always changes my perspective to a bigger picture that reminds me who I am and to whom I belong, in the best and in the worst of times. Jesus never told his disciples when the Temple would be destroyed and he does not answer all of our questions now. He does not tell us when, nor how long, we will encounter hardship and difficulty. He just tells us that to follow him will be worth it. According to Paul, it is always time to sing. Are you with me?
[1] Brian McLaren, posting on Facebook social media on November 06, 2024.
_____
[1] Brian McLaren, posting on Facebook social media on November 06, 2024.