Revelation Read-Along: Day 9

Reading: Revelation 8

Advent Theme: Silence

The seventh seal brings silence in heaven. In John’s vision, there is a short pause in the midst of chaos for silence. More than simply the absence of sound, silence can be restful, healing, or useful for focus. This pause in the action allows the suspense to build.

Then the silence ends, the seven trumpets sound, and there is ecological destruction. When people want to take apocalyptic literature literally, they comb through history to match details to what they perceive to be prophecy. Instead, we remember that John is using exaggerated language to make a point and to refocus his audience on what is important.

By describing ecological disasters, John reminds his readers- then and now- that improper worship harms creation. When we worship world leaders, or profit margins, or our own brand, we lose track of God’s first gift to humankind- the invitation to be stewards of the earth. Improper worship means we are spiritually betting the farm that still belongs to our Divine Parent.

Revelation reminds the reader not that these things are happening, but that they can and will happen because of the poor stewardship of the powers and principalities of this world. It is up to those who would be conquerors, who seek to walk the Way of Christ, to work for the good of creation. 

Potential takeaway: How often do we remember that care for creation is the other half of our baptismal charge? We are sent out to “care for others and the world that God made”. Faithful living includes careful and judicious use of natural resources, respect for animals, and support for the vocations of farming, ranching, and fishing. Looking for God’s presence and guidance around our natural resources is part of what Christians are called to do- in all times and places. 

Holy God, Your farm is all creation. Guide me in the stewardship of the resources near me, that I may take seriously the role of being a co-creator with you in this world. I do not want to be lukewarm about your creation, but zealous in care and compassion for the world you have made. Amen. 

The Prayer of the Trees

A prompt from Rachel Hackenberg:

From the prophet Ezekiel:

Thus says the Lord GOD: I will take a sprig from the top of a cedar; I will break off a tender twig from its uppermost branches and plant it on a high mountain. There it will grow into a noble cedar, producing branches and bearing fruit, and under it the creatures will burrow and in its shade the birds will nest. Then all the trees from field to forest will know that I am the LORD, who makes low trees tall and who cuts low the highest tree, who dries up the green trees and makes the dry trees flourish again. I am the LORD; I will do this. (Ezekiel 17:22-24, adapted)

Imagine the praise of the trees in the fields and the forests! Imagine the hope of the dry trees and the trembling of the tall proud trees! Imagine the prayer of the cedar sprig, newly planted and striving to grow!

Breath of my breath and Core of my Being
You made all things. 
You know my weaknesses and my faults-
The improper lines, the too-strong advances, 
The petty resentments and indignities that I refuse to shoulder silently
You give me all that I need-
Beyond my food in due season,
You clothe me in broad swaths of deepest green
And give me the songs for my dance....

When we are in congregation, 

We lift our arms to you, remembering the source of our joy

Our roots spread their toes, gripping the earth-

Giving our praise lift and balance.

We who are tuned to your voice 

Seek to hear its life-giving murmurs all day long.

We cannot bear your silence, 

Your waiting.

Keep us a-hum by the Spirit's tuning fork, 

vibrating to the goodness of your commands 

 Create in us new life
As is befitting to your plan
for hope, goodness, and a future
Let us dare to be witnesses
to your greatness, your mercy, 
your grace, and your love
Make us instruments of renewal and restoration-
builders of kin-dom and community. 

Remember those who depend on us. Do not let them be forgotten. 

Grant us the grace to be generous with what you have first given us- all that we have, all that we are, all that we have yet to know.                                                   

Do not forget our wounds, O Creator. Do not allow our brokenness to separate us from your love. Draw near to us and heal us. Heal us for service to your holy desires. 

 Bring us to a good death, O Holy One. 

In your kindness,  allow us to decrease as you increase.

Grant us a vision of the Eternal Word, enfleshed as Jesus

Who knew the trees as his cradle, his trade, and the means of his death

Allow his presence to pioneer the way and guide us

As we move from one life to the next

 In your loving-kindness, bring us to eternal life in you. 

I Feel Petty

Jesus-

When you grew exasperated with Peter or James and John,

If Johanna and Susanna were a bit too loud,

Or the Magdalene and Thomas wondering about things totally out of reach…

What did you do?

Did you look heavenward, in whichever direction that is,

And say, “What were You thinking?”

Did you disappear to the necessary,

Only to be found later- a few miles out of town?

When I go to the dark of the supply closet, a prayer space,

When I am fleeing gossip, petty grievances, and your beloveds, but not mine right

now-

I wonder what you did.

Here we are, together, in the quiet.

Even with no sounds, I hear you telling me that

The candles, the carpet, the coffee,

They’re not actually part of the yoke.

Don’t let them become more than they are.

Do the necessary. Take the walk.

And remember that you’re with me.

And I am not you.

***breathe***

***breathe***

***breathe***

Amen.

Reblogged from RevGalBlogPals.  

Balm of Gilead

Feast of St. Peter and St. Paul

Acts 12:1-11; Psalm 87:1–3, 5–7; 2 Timothy 4:6–8, 17–18; John 21:15–19

            How many of you have heard of Balm of Gilead? Did you know that you can make it? It’s a kind of salve made from olive oil combined with the resin of a certain tree’s buds.  Guess what tree is used to make Balm of Gilead? Cottonwoods. The frustrating trees that make us sneeze, which blow their fluff around in the summertime, which we consider little better than weeds. The buds of the cottonwood tree can be steeped with oil to make an antiseptic and healing balm. From such a frustrating tree comes a magnificent medicine. 

            In the Bible, the land of Gilead is where the family of Gad (one of Jacob’s twelve sons) had settled. They traded in spices and balms. By the time of the prophet Jeremiah, however, most of the children of Israel were struggling and had lost sight of God’s own role in their healing. Jeremiah wrote, “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has not the health of the daughter of my people been restored?" (Jer. 8:22) The prophet is asking how people who are known for their medicines can still be sick in a spiritual sense? From such a tree, rooted in God’s promises to Jacob and others, there should have been powerful soul medicine.

            The song we know, There is a Balm in Gilead, comes from the African-American spiritual tradition. Traced back to pre-Civil War era, enslaved Africans and their descendants answered Jeremiah’s question. There is a balm in Gilead. There is healing for the soul. It is found in the person of Jesus- in the life, teaching, healing, death, and resurrection of Emmanual- God with us. The people who first sang, “Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain, but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again” knew something that Jeremiah didn’t. They heard, trusted, and lived into the truth that Jesus had and would bring healing to their souls, the balm of salvation, hope, and renewal.

Sermon Wordle

            How did they come to know this? How did the story of an itinerant rabbi from the backwater of Nazareth come to the ears of African people and their descendants on the shores of the New World some 1800 years later? Who moved that story forward?

            Among the people who did that work, two names stand out: Peter and Paul. We are so used to hearing about Peter and Paul, about their work, about their faith, that we often think of them as redwoods in the forest of Christ’s followers. They were surely head and shoulders above everyone else, even with their foibles. Peter helped to organize the sharing of the gospel to Jewish people. Paul spread the good news, after his awakening, to Gentiles throughout the Roman world.

            However, these two men were the people equivalent of cottonwoods. They annoyed people. They popped up where they weren’t wanted. They frustrated each other. And, finally, when they could no longer be tolerated- they were chopped down. However, the lives of the fisherman from Galilee and the tentmaker from Tarsus were not ended without a significant spreading of the salve they had come to trust as healing for the mind, the body, and the soul.

            “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Peter rejected the idea that Jesus would suffer and die. Peter denied being with Jesus to save his hide. Peter was not waiting at the tomb, in faith, for resurrection. And, yet, he still knew the truth of who Jesus was, “You are the Messiah.” The sap of faith was fermenting in Peter and would be tapped for the sake of the world on the day of Pentecost. God knew what this cottonwood could do.

            Paul held the coats at the stoning of Stephen, according to Acts. He demonstrated his strength in the traditions of his birth by persecuting Christians, until Jesus blindsided him on the road to Damascus. Paul literally had to learn to trust God, through Christ, all over again by being cared for by Jesus’ followers. And, then, he was off. Sometimes I wonder if Paul ever stopped talking, between dictating letters, preaching, discussing, praying. It’s a wonder God didn’t restore his sight, but once in a while consider making him mute for a period. But God knew the balm that would flow from the pen and the mouth of this cottonwood.

            We often are confused when we use the term “saints”. It is easy to think of people we know in our lives or in history who seemed outstandingly good, able to resist temptation, and wholly devout in all they do as saints. Essentially the redwoods of faith are who we think of, people standing head and shoulders above the rest of us. But it ain’t necessarily so. In fact, it necessarily ain’t so.

            Saints come to being through Christ’s own work. God’s perseverance, through the Holy Spirit, in continuing to steer us right, to use our gifts for healing in the world, to show us the truth of our life and death in Jesus through baptism, communion, and work together… these things make up the lives of all the saints. God does not give special skills to just a few. God gives a few select skills to all- the ability to speak to the love of Jesus, the strength to offer assistance, the courage to keep on going with hope and trust.

            You are no less important to the kingdom of God than Peter or Paul or Jeremiah or the enslaved people who persevered in faith. It is not a weaker balm that comes through you. You are as much cottonwood as they! (Good news- as annoying, as prolific, as strong, as much healing balm!) The life of faith is never about who you think you are, but about who God knows you are and God is working to shape, save, and use you for the sake of the world around you.

            What’s the second verse of the hymn? “If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus and say he died for all…” There is a balm in Gilead. It is the life and love of Jesus- Lord of Life now and forever. His story offers healing to the world, but it must be told. It gets told by God’s saints- who are only majestic in that they have died and been raised to new life- even right now- in Jesus. The healing salve of Jesus’ story pours into and out of God’s saints- cottonwoods that we be. Weedy, frustrating, and healing- created by God- just like Peter and Paul (and cottonwoods)- to share the good news and be part of the healing and flourishing of the kingdom of God.

Amen.

Psalm 8 Revisited

One: O Lord our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

All: Majestic, magnificent, marvelous, mysterious is our God.

One: The angels sing of your glory.

All: Children recognize your power.

One: Your enemies do not prevail. The fortress of your love lasts forever.

All: Majestic, magnificent, marvelous, mysterious is our God.

One: When I think of all creation- space, animals, plants,

All: People, music, fish, mountains, oceans, and deserts.

One: It is more than I can comprehend- that I am born out of the same mind as whales and galaxies.

All: Who are we, that you have thought of us, made us, loved us, saved us?

One: Majestic, magnificent, marvelous, mysterious is our God.

All: You made people- all people, all kinds of people

One: You gave people, us, the work of caring for, of stewardship over

All: Flocks and herds, fields and forests, lakes and rivers, the wild and the tamed.

One: O Lord our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

All: Majestic, magnificent, marvelous, mysterious is our God.

Perspective: Food

I'm renewing my efforts at losing weight.

Well, I've failed at that before, so I'm trying a new perspective.

Bison stew with veggies. Mmmm!

I am working toward a HEALTHIER me!

This is, therefore, not about numbers on a scale, but about:

- reducing my risk of heart disease
- improving my race completion times
- avoiding Type 2 Diabetes
- setting a good example for my children
- appreciating the gift of my body and what it can do

All of this means working on a different perspective toward food (and exercise, but that's a different day).

I love food. I don't want to stop loving food. A right (better) relationship with food means making better food choices (bye-bye, Valentine heart candies).

It means thinking when I eat, not just using one hand to put things in my mouth while doing something else with the other hand (to save time, prevent boredom, whatever).

That re-focus helps to think about food as a gift- how it gets to me, who grew it, handled it, what I'm doing with it. The shift in perspective puts me in better communion with creation and the Creator.

That is certainly part of any plan toward good health.

Nuclear Family Affair

I recently read this book: Full Body Burden: Growing Up in the Nuclear Shadow of Rocky Flats. 

I couldn't stop reading, even when I was horrified and frustrated by the government coverups, the nuclear disasters, and the persistent denial that plutonium dust in the wind around the general Denver area was a problem.

Still processing, I wrote this long haiku:

Fukushima still

Leaks. Nearly three years later,

Oceans and air fill

With poisons. Unknown:

their full power, permanence,

possibility.

West Coast counters ping.

Measuring high, off the charts.

Radiation moves.

Do we still recall

Chernobyl and Rocky Flats?

Who will be a voice

For Three-Mile Island

Or Lucenz? Did we forget

Not so long ago

Destruction promised?

Mutually assured, we

Worked fevered, counting

Our efforts as so

Much patriotism. Safety

Was secondary.

Radiation lives

Up to its name, spreading out

In water and air.

In animals and

Dusting our salad leaves, we

Take every meal with

Delectable sides

Of plutonium, along

With other spices.

Mutual, assured

Destruction has become real.

Nuclear waste kills

Us before we can

Eliminate each other.

Still we don’t, won't quit.

Don’t act. Stay silent,

Confused. Would our government

Lie? Cover up? Say

Something is quite safe

When it is killing us, our

Children, theirs, and theirs?

What cost: energy?

Bomb stockpile must equal X.

When is it enough

Proliferation?

For any country? Person?

When does will it end?

This is my Father's

World. And my children's. Neighbors'

And my enemies'.

Will I pray with my

Feet, hands, voice, dollars, Spirit.

Even if it feels

Futile? Otherwise

Poison hisses over both

Apples and tuna.

Cleaning and clearing

Deserve our every effort

Since mutually

Assured blessings are

Certainly preferable

For all creation.

Fukushima still

Leaks. Nearly three years later,

Oceans and air fill

With poisons. Unknown:

their full power, permanence,

possibility.

Cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals for The Pastoral is Political.  

What God has Cleansed (Earth Day Sermon)

Acts 11: 1-18

            Care of creation as a part of our Christian life seems a little obvious. Does it feel that way to you? We believe that God’s hand was active in establishing the universe. We understand that there are natural processes that are mysterious to us. We grasp the fact that we are not alone on the earth and that many millions of plants, non-human animals, fish, and lots of other people can be affected by our choices and our actions.

            So we understand, basically, why it’s important. We get it. But do we change what we’re doing based on what we know to be true? I had a lot of heartburn about having a service on Earth Day, oriented toward creation, with a 12-page bulletin. That’s a lot of paper. But we have people who can’t hear and need to be able to follow the service. We have a worship book that turns out not to be very visitor-friendly in its orientation (lots of flipping back and forth). So we sacrificed trees for the sake of hospitality. Does it mean anything to regret this decision? Could we figure out how to go bulletin free one Sunday a month?

            When I ask that kind of question, I immediately see that I have a problem, a flaw in my thinking. I’m skipping right to the specific before I comprehend the reason for the general. I can read Job and understand, again, that God knows and loves all creation on both the micro and macro- scale. Yet, how am we brought into that love? I do not mean how are we brought into loving creation. I mean, how are we brought into God’s love, into God’s knowledge?

            Imagine, if you will, that you are Peter. The Apostle. You fished for years, your life was pretty much set, and then came Jesus. Like a bat out of Nazareth (or something like that). You follow him. You see amazing things. You have powerful revelations. You deny, confess, distort, and accept. You see the risen Christ. You witness the flames of Pentecost. And through all of this, you’re a Jew. Jesus was a Jew. John was a Jew. Thomas, Andrew, Philip- Jewish, Jewish, Jewish. All the people at the Pentecost event- Jewish.

            And now there are people who believe in Jesus as the Messiah. They trust that he is the Son of God. They experience truth in the story of the resurrection. And they. Are. Not. Jewish. What do you do? Send them away? Slap the pork chop out of their hands and circumcise them on the spot? Tell them it is too bad they weren’t chosen?

            When Peter is in Joppa, God sends a vision to a man named Cornelius. Cornelius is an Italian soldier who believes in God and, in his time of prayer, God tells him to go and see Peter. In the meantime, God sends Peter the dream of the “unclean animals” and repeats the scene until Peter gets the point God is trying to make, “Who are you to say that what I have made is profane? Unclean? Unworthy?” When Cornelius appears before Peter and introduces himself and tells Peter of his vision, Peter probably has a little hallucination of a pig, induced by lifelong hatred of Romans and conflation of Roman soldiers with pigs. Then he realizes this is the point of the dream! Truly God shows no partiality because God has even spoken truth to this Italian swine soldier.

            Of course, Peter later gets a lot of flack for sharing the gospel with Gentiles. His reasoning is actually rock solid, “God did it first.” Peter cannot keep the Holy Spirit from blowing where it will, descending as it desires, inspiring the understanding of truth in whom it shall. One of the interesting ironies of the Bible is how long it takes people who have been called by God to realize that God is also working in other people and in other circumstances.

You might think that people whose understanding of God’s work in history included Ruth, Cyrus (the Great), Melchizedek (blessed Abraham), and Pharaoh’s daughter (raised Moses), among others, might not be so shocked that God would conspire to bring inspiration and salvation to non-Jews. And the thing is, we cannot speak against Peter and the other Jews for being slow to come to this understanding. Christians do it all the time. We forget how we have been grafted onto the tree of life. We assume that we are the very roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. (And we know what ass-u-me does.)

            This brings me back around to care of creation. We did not invent this. A green revolution did not begin with us. It began with God, whose farm is all creation. The stories of God at the beginning of the world mention that there was not yet land because there was not yet people (man) to tend the soil, to care for the land, to be co-creators.

            People have slowly come around to understanding God’s call to all people, God’s welcome and openness to every person. How long can the rest of the world wait for us to understand the extension of renewal and redemption? How long can we pretend that we do not understand Peter’s dream that nothing God has made is profane? How long will we profane what God has made by being careless with what we eat, what we do, what we buy, how we live?

            I’m saying this to you, but the voice in my head is saying, “Sit down and be quiet, you hypocrite. Remove the plank from your own eye.” We’re in this together… on Earth Day… on the third Sunday in Easter…

            Where do we start? Let’s begin by making the revelation of Peter’s dream our prayer: “What God has cleansed you must not call common.” When you eat, let your prayer be of gratitude for the ways the food got to your table. “What God has cleansed you must not call common.” When you look at the grit of spring or cut your eyes from a man holding a sign on the corner, “What God has cleansed you must not call common.” When you take out the trash or sort things for the garage sale, “What God has cleansed you must not call common.” When you look in the mirror, when you wash your face, “What God has cleansed you must not call common.”

            The first step toward the acceptance of Gentiles was the realization that God had loved them already. God was there first. So the first step in our own journey toward care of creation, realizing that God loves it already. God loved it first. And God has loved us to share entrust the responsibility of caring. But we have to begin with understanding that what God has made clean, what God has welcomed, what God loves, cannot be called or treated as common.

Amen.