The Kingdom of Heaven is like

The Kingdom of Heaven is like

            Part of Jesus’ spiritual genius comes from his use of parables, these short, simple, stories that stick. You hear them, and you’re hooked. They begin to weave into your heart and capture your imagination. They sit with you as your subconscious works on them, and they on your life—you chew on them, until they begin to chew on you. 

            Some spots in scripture get used as proof texts, not so parables—instead they are truth texts, they speak truth into being.

Let us pray.

            Jesus put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like… a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

            The Kingdom of heaven is like… an apple seed planted in a soil packed toilet paper roll by a grandma and grandson as a science experiment for school. The seed sprouted and grew, and eventually they planted it outside, where it grew still more, and look, it provides shade on these hot days and tart green apples for all who hunger!

            Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like… yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

            The Kingdom of heaven is like… a family who watched a YouTube video about creating a sour dough starter. One night, the daughter snuck into the kitchen and took a pinch of it from the mason jar and hid that little bit in 50 pounds of flour… The family spent the next two days baking—it was enough bread for the entire block and then some to spare!

            “The kingdom of heaven is like… treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. 

 

            The Kingdom of heaven is like… a scientist rushing out the door for a two week vacation, and leaving his lab a mess. When he returned he found one of his petri dishes fuzzy with mold, and upon closer inspection, he discovered the mold had destroyed the bacteria that causes a staph infection. From this discovery came penicillin, and most other antibiotics we use to this day.

            “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like… a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. 

            The Kingdom of heaven is like… a virologist, who came out of retirement because she had an idea for how to treat the virus, and to her nothing else mattered. She moved to Atlanta to be closer to the CDC, she moved into a Motel 6 room just off site, and sought nothing but a cure. And, after much searching and great sacrifice, she found it.

            “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like… a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 

            The Kingdom of heaven is like… an ax working its way through a forest filled with trees of every kind. The lumberjack separated out trees that were good for building and trees that were good for kindling. So too, it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate evil from good, and in the end all shall be made right.

            “Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

            Echoing Jesus’ words to the disciples, my challenge to you this week, is to let his parables rumble around in you, be curious about the world around you, and, when it strikes you, re-tell one of Jesus’ parables—re-mix Jesus words in such a way that they speak to today. A+A

The Impatient Gardener

The Impatient Gardener

         Have you heard the one about the impatient gardener?

         He watched as the Planter scattered seeds, and some landed in good soil, which became a gracious gift; he was given a garden to tend and care for.

         Tending the garden was the his most joyous job, 
a vocation that felt like a vacation, 
a hobby even if it could have been called a chore.

         Watering the good ground, watching, waiting, 
waiting for those tender shoots to push up out of the dark & nourishing soil.

         And then, as he watched, he saw the shoots… there was something strange
—yes, some of them were fruitful, 
but others had false flowers
—they were weeds!

         So, he rushed to the Planter, and asked, “Did you do it wrong? Did you plan poison, instead of plenty?”

         “No,” replied the Planter, “An enemy has done this!”

         “I will tear it all out! I’ll weed so well not a single tare will remain!”

         “No,” the Planter again replied, “Such a thing will destroy all the good I have done. Instead, let both grow, and by the end we will have a bundle of kindling and a barn full of wheat. What was intended for evil, we can redeem. Wait for redemption.”

         And so he did. And it was hard, perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever done. 
It was the longest growing season he’d ever lived through. 
So hard for this poor gardener, this poor impatient gardener, unable to do what was needed… 
a painful season of waiting.
Impatience built up, 
filling him like a balloon, 
until he nearly hit the ceiling and popped.

         And this Impatient Gardener is not alone.

Prayer

 

         He is not alone, there are so many impatient gardeners among us.

         Creation itself is one. Creation cranes its neck out to see the first signs of the new creation, 
the revelation of God’s resurrection people
—for the universe itself is bound to entropy: that is, things fall apart unless energy is expended to keep it together
—but the universe also intuits that the bonds of entropy will be broken and all that is, seen and unseen, with find freedom in the resurrection—a world held together not by work but by love. 
Creation waits impatiently for a glimpse of new creation.

         We, who are to be a sign of God’s re-creation of the universe, 
we wait for the Spirit’s signature on our adoption papers
—wait as we cry out “Abba! Father!” 
our elongated shout sharing the truth of our connection to Jesus, and through him our Heavenly Father.
That ongoing shout, doesn’t it leave you breathless?!?

         Groaning as well
—every time we are confronted afresh with the world as it is, 
and we know in the depths of our souls that it does not measure up to the world as it should be
—that profound disconnect, it is the sound of that new world being born! 
The tension and trauma of this in-between time… 
yes, adoption and birth
—both processes that take time and are rich soil for impatience. 
Both processes that describe our ongoing journey with Jesus until the end.

 

Impatient…

         Impatient, I know, for worship to be in-person, no longer mediated by screens, and able to receive the Lord’s Supper.

         Impatient too, all of us
—desperate for things to just get back to normal, 
no more Pandemic, no more fear, no more constriction and constraint on account of Covid. 
Impatient for a time when we don’t have to think and re-think even basic stuff to make sure it is safe:
like going to the grocery store or into the office… 
or even plan something as overwhelming as a return to school
—God help the teachers.

         Impatient as well—that things don’t get back to normal, 
because normal wasn’t really cutting it…
For so many, the Pandemic exposed the tenuous lives they were already living. 
-37 million, 11 million of them children, were going to bed hungry every night here in America, even before their ranks were swollen by Coronavirus job losses.
For so many, the recent shift in public opinion that has brought Black Lives Matter into the mainstream, missed too many black lives that also mattered, but the time wasn’t right. 
-Yes Floyd, Arbary, and Taylor… but what about Philando Castile, Tamar Rice, and Atatiana Jefferson.

 

         The Impatient Gardener has so many companions. 

         So many seeking the revelation of the Children of the Kingdom
—the promised redemption, 
and are stuck with Children of all sorts, good and evil, roots entangled. 
Forced to let them alone, for wheat and weeds are inextricably linked and often mistaken for one another.
Wheat and Weed will only be fully understood, fully known, at the end, in this mixed-up garden of a world we are planted in.

         Yet, within it all, may there still be hope.

         As the recently departed Civil Rights Leader John Lewis, 
no stranger to the brutalizing fruits of evil and the glorious fruits of goodness, 
As he wrote not too long ago:

          "Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble."

         Yes, the tension between wheat and weed pulls at all of creation,
 it pulls at our very core threatening to spin us out of ourselves with its dual centrifugal forces, 
an impatience for the harvest.

         Yes, the long and slow process of seed geminating and growing into something new 
it is a struggle
—the transformation, the purification, like fire even, is uncomfortable
—becoming fruitful hurts! 
But it is a necessary trouble.

         All of this, 
the fire that purifies and reveals… 
reveals the Son’s righteousness, 
A righteousness that shines like the sun in the Kingdom of our Father. 
The redemption of our God.

         Have you heard the one about the impatient gardener? If so, let anyone who has ears, listen. Amen.

Evangelism, inside-out!

Evangelism—Spreading the Good News of Jesus and his love by word and deed.

Inside-Out—Most activities are either mediated by screens or done briefly, six feet away, and behind masks.

 

What a Pandemic Society Needs that the Church Has:

-The confidence found in Christ! Jesus has redeemed you; you are enough. You don’t need to DO anything.

-We have multiple vocations. This is especially important when many of them are stripped away.

-Look, do-gooders who’ve been doing good even before the pandemic (e.g. Food Pantry).

-An ordered life in the face of a disordered world (e.g. daily prayer)

-A framework for thinking about priorities as our choices are limited.

-The ideas of Jubilee & Sabbath!—periods of rest.

 

The Gospel the Church needs to hear in the time of Pandemic:

Potential Upsides to remote worship:

-A “soft” & safe (re)entrance into the faith.

-A lower barrier for those often excluded.

-Convenience (can attend, and also go to sports with kids)

No longer in buildings confining:

-We’re a sent church.

-Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

-Greater personal responsibility for our faith (e.g. Priesthood of all believers).

Sermon: Good Soil

Good Soil

          When I look at this lectionary year—the year of Matthew
—I can’t help but wonder if the committee who chose which bits of scripture we read, weren’t a bit embarrassed about the 12^th chapter of Matthew.
After all, we lean heavily into chapter 11
—going into extensive details about the disciple’s situation as they are sent… Sunday after Sunday…
not so chapter 12.

          Chapter 12, where the Pharisees, a group of religious leaders of Jesus’ day, reject the disciple’s practice of eating grain on the Sabbath and then reject Jesus’ practice of healing on the Sabbath.

          Chapter 12 where the Pharisees claim that Jesus’ exorcism of a man oppressed by the devil are actually the work of the devil
—the Spirit is at work, but they see Satan.
They reject God’s work in him.

          Chapter 12, where Jesus is rejected by his family,
and Jesus points to the Disciples as his new family.

          The lectionary compilers reject chapter 12,
where we find a story about rejecting Jesus’ understanding of the Sabbath,
rejection of the Spirit’s work in Jesus’ ministry,
rejection of Jesus by his biological family.

          Why all this rejection?

          …Because we got a soil problem.

          Prayer

          Why all the rejection? We got a soil problem.
The Pharisees’ soil is so hard packed, rocks choke out the Spirit, Jesus’ family is faced with thorny questions about that boy of theirs…

 

          Jesus tells us about the soil problem:

          The Sower was casting seed everywhere, leaving no soil untouched.

          Some seed fell upon paths packed tight from the footfalls of generations,
soil so compact the seed could not enter
—and it became easy eats for the hungry flocks who regularly pecked that path clean.

          Some seeds were embedded in rocky soil,
stone shared their birthing bed,
and so they sprang,
but were scorched and stilted by the sun,
they were rootless.

          Some seed landed and laid with thorns,
and there they grew together,
and were chocked off
and died.

          Still other seeds fell in good soil,
and grew sturdy and strong
—an abundant harvest!
A thirtyfold yield and sixty,
one hundred times over the growth!

 

          Isn’t the Kingdom of God mysterious—that in our lives we have those moments:
-Scripture or Holy Conversation land just so, and open up before us.

-A sacramental moment, bread and wine, the water of new birth, transforms us.

-An encounter, a neighbor or family member or even an enemy,
who flips everything on its head and it all finally makes sense.

-A close call, calls you to your best self,
a relationship healed and you are compelled to go and do likewise.

          The Kingdom of God, which we ask to come into the world every time we pray the Lord’s Prayer… it is mysterious, and all too often lasts but a moment.

          You walk into the living room…
and then don’t remember why…
so too when the Kingdom comes, “oh wow” epiphany,
followed closely by… “wait, what?”
The seed lands, but does it find good soil?

 

          Does it land, and we don’t understand?
And then, those who ought to help us do so, fail,
or even eat up, peck away at, the promise?

          Has misunderstanding packed down the power of those God moments of ours, until our hearts are too hard to hear the magnificent harmony of heaven?
          Has it been taken from us,
explained away, commodified, monetized
or made into an ornament instead of allowed to grow?

 

          Does it land, in a heap of hardship,
does it’s tendrils get knocked over by awful actions,
the joy of the Kingdom rocked by times of trouble?

          There is nothing better than those God-moments, ask any convert, in their zeal…
but does it hold up?
Has the good news taken root, or will it simply wither when hardship hits, or at the first disappointment, or even the fifteenth disappointment,
Does it tumble when the faith is challenged or challenging.

         

          Does it land, in a field of cares,
a field so overcrowded, that it gets crowded out,
the Kingdom cut off by the thorns of other obligations
and choked by the vines of vanity and distraction?

          Those things we plant, they grow,
be they the good seed of the good news,
or a plethora of other stuff
—our overcrowded lives can keep the Kingdom of God coming, for us.

 

          Does it land in good soil?
Nutritious soil cultivated well,
weeded, cared for, and tilled.
The word of the Kingdom heard, understood, bearing fruit,
the great yield of goodness grown from the Gospel—the news of the Kingdom.

 

          Perhaps, this time of Pandemic and limited interaction, is an opportunity,
a time to cultivate our soil:
till our understanding,
care for our resilience,
and unclutter our lives.

          May we be good soil. May we not reject the Kingdom those times when the sower passes by and scatters seed.

 

          O Sower, make us to be good soil.

          O Sower, unsettle our soil and protect us from all Evil, so that your seed might settle in.

          O Sower, take the time to pick out every pebble, give us roots we pray, that neither troubles nor terror shall wither our joy.

          O Sower, weed from us that that would choke the seeds of your Kingdom.

          O Sower, make us to be good soil,
cultivate us, care for us, feed us with every nutrient, that we might bear the fruits of the Kingdom.

O Sower, make us to be good soil. A+A

Sermon: Whoever

Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.

          After a chapter-long warning—bright florescent yellow, like caution tape
—warnings about exclusion and dangers to his disciples… welcome.

          Words of welcome.

          You’re a sent people, dear Church (perhaps that’s a good frame for us being dispersed for safety’s sake), ambassadors of Christ and through him messengers of God. And whoever receives you receives Jesus.

          But, look at the other side of that sending, the logical balance of this equation. He is with you, and also with them, with whoever receives you! What a grand gift to both give and receive. Welcome and the presence of God! Where two or three gather, there he is, and look, just like that, wherever, whoever, there he is!

 

          How can we make the God we know in Jesus Christ known to whoever, especially in times where there is so much that is unknown?

          For that matter, look back on this last little while, when have you noticed that Jesus is up to something?

 

 

Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward;

          We’re sent like prophets
—that sounds as intoxicating as a mason jar of moonshine, until you stop and think about it
—tripping forward a few verses, into the very next chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, we get to hear how the Prophet John fares
—he has to send someone to Jesus to ask his questions about the Kingdom, because he is confined behind prison walls
—that’s what happens to prophets… John captured and then killed, by that capricious ruler, Herod…

          Or consider Jeremiah today
(Jeremiah, who by the way, was rewarded for his prophecies by being chucked down a well, left to die, and eventually did die alone in a foreign land, forsaken and abandoned)

Eavesdrop with me on this conversation between two prophets, Jeremiah and Hananiah
—it really needs to be read with a sour spoonful of sarcasm,
“Oh yes, Hananiah! Please prophecy that everything is going to be alright! Prophecy that our present reality is filled with peace…
after all, isn’t that just what every other prophet before us preached…
peaceful wars,
peaceful famines,
peaceful pestilence & peaceful plague…
Truly you’d have to be quite a prophet to prophecy peace, and peace to actually come.”

          Uncomfortable truths, too tight and constricting for the societies they minister to, are the stock and trade of the prophet, and, consequently, stockades and tragedy are their reward…

 

          At the same time, such a sending is as challenging for the prophet as the listener…
hear me, quite often the message outstrips the messenger
—it’s like those stories of staid English vicars who drone on, and then one day hear their own message and are redeemed…
          So too, the prophetic calling of our baptism can pull us along to places where we would not go, but must. We too are opened to the ongoing transformative power of the message of Jesus!

 

          Are we ready for such a sending? How in this particular moment are we taking up prophetic mantles and doing what’s right, even if it costs us?

          And also, what don’t you want to hear about justice and mercy and the ongoing works of God in the world, but need to hear to be a disciple of Jesus?

 

Whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous;

          Sent in righteousness… sent to point to the world as it ought to be, even as we live in the world as it is—such a tension held there, awful to behold, and dangerous to name…

          So dangerous Jesus has to speak a blessing in response, his beatitude: “blessed are those persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for there is the kingdom of heaven.”

          And yet, imagine those who welcome the world as it could be… they’ve been waiting for it! They’ve been waiting with a gnawing hunger and an unslaked thirst, for you to show up with that piece of Good News, to bless them with that other blessing: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”

          Persecution and fullness, for whoever welcomes you… such a paradox…

too much for mere messengers like us…

          And that’s okay, we’ve been filled with a righteousness found in Christ. We are sent out freed from sin and submerged in his sanctity—dripping wet with it, so that we might recommend this free gift of God to all who hunger and thirst and hold up under persecution.

 

          How are you going to tell people about a world that does not yet exist? How are you going to describe to them the will and goal of God?

          For that matter, what in your life lags behind what Jesus is calling you to? Where in your life do you hunger and thirst for righteousness?

 

Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

          Sent, finally, to the kindness of cool water offered to one of these little ones.

 

          A cup of water, it is the image of the End—not some Left Behind B actor apocalypse, but instead the simple question, “When did I put cool water to your lips, dear Lord?” “When you did so to the least of these,” Jesus will say on judgment day.

          A cup of water in the noon heat, mini-mirages loping across a blacktop parking lot, throat dry, sweat stained armpits and light-headed yearning—a cup of water given…

 

          Give to the little ones:
Little Ones-the children, never denied Jesus’ love

Little Ones-the vulnerable, tormented by all that might ail humanity, healed by his hand
Little Ones-the Disciples themselves, called in their strangeness and disunity, not the best and the brightest, but beloved!

          We are sent, yes, but we are sent to receive as well, even such small hospitality, is heavenly.

 

          Look around you, who in your immediate area are the little ones? What can we do to ensure they are afforded kindness and care, a cup of cold water?

          Look too at yourself, when have you received such compassion? When have you been a little one? May the words of scripture work upon you this week. Amen.

Vulnerability and Hope

Vulnerability and Hope

          Consider those surrounding Jesus, hearing his words of Good News, and also experiencing the Good News. These folk, who he describes as Sheep without a Shepherd, Feral Sheep, I suppose… they are in desperate need of him, for they are harassed and helpless.

          Consider those whom Jesus sends the 12 disciples out to, out to cure and cleanse, cast out demons and raise the dead… all these maladies that would stigmatize them as outsiders, that would keep them from the Kingdom of God, keep them from the sheepfold, at least the way religion of the day (and perhaps of every era) would tell it, those whom Jesus calls lost sheep, folk alienated from the kingdom and lacking peace.

          Consider, too, the disciples, sent as Sheep among wolves. These men of a variety of backgrounds
—Zealots opposed to Roman rule and Tax Collectors collaborating with Rome
—whatever their previous identity, gets stripped away, as they go away in their common task…
trusting that what they have is enough
—becoming something else, no longer tax collector or fisherman, but followers of Jesus.
This new way of being, forms them into Disciples! Hurt, hated, betrayed, and killed, for Christ’s sake,
for the sake of the Good News,
for the sake of those to whom they are sent by Jesus.

          Endangered sheep, alienated sheep, desperate feral sheep… this image, this metaphor, sheep, points to vulnerability… they are vulnerable.

Prayer

 

          Vulnerable—We’re vulnerable when we admit we don’t know something, or that we got something wrong. Embarrassing isn’t it?
          You’re vulnerable when you go against a group or against the grain, it usually costs you. Hung out to dry.
           Vulnerable when you lose a part of your identity…
your identity as an employed person,
or a well person,
or a valued citizen of your community…
vulnerable…

          Perhaps humans are more vulnerable than the sheep of metaphor….
Think about it, sheep don’t require years of being raised into adulthood.
Sheep never have a first day of school.
Sheep never write love letters….
Yes, from our first breath to our last breath, humans are vulnerable…

          Our last breath…
vulnerable…
right now black people in this country, along with people of goodwill of all sorts, are lamenting the particular vulnerability of black life in America.
In fact, this Wednesday the ELCA will be commemorating the Charleston 9
—vulnerable in their own church,
killed at a bible study 5 years ago.

 

          Vulnerable too, to this virus. In fact, in this morbidly information rich world of ours you can calculate out roughly how likely you are to die if you get infected with Covid19, based on age, sex, race, and underlying medical conditions
—vulnerability laid out in callous percentages.

          Here at St. Stephen—vulnerable.
The commonly used tools that build up the faith, absent, or at least mediated by screens…
perhaps we can newly sympathize with the struggles of those sent Disciples,
they lacked staff and sandals, a change of clothing and coin in their pocket
—we are trying on a new type of Christian Identity
—we’re all now individual house churches,
dispersed and struggling to pay attention when together through screens
and courageously taking greater individual responsibility for our life in Christ.

 

          Vulnerable… yet there is something about vulnerability
—so often, it goes hand and hand with hope!
Vulnerability and hope.

          At our last Pub Theology we did a broad study of what the Bible says about Hope,
and noticed quickly a strange connection between vulnerability and hope
—that within times of distress and suffering,
the Spirit and hope find a home.

          “We boast also in our sufferings,” writes Paul,
“knowing that suffering produces patience, which produces a proven character, and such a character produces hope…
because God’s love has poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us…”

          “While we were weak,” he continues, “Ungodly, sinners…”
In all of our vulnerability
—there is Christ, he died for us!”

          Vulnerability and hope.

          For us, we distracted, dispersed Christians,
our identities shifting and slipping,
in neutral,
life idling
—for us.

          For this nation,
virus laden and on our back foot,
in denial even as ¼ of the global infections and deaths are our own…
for us!

          For every black life,
in the everyday and in the struggle,
there is Spirit and Hope!
He is among you!
For us!

          Vulnerability and hope.

          For us from first breath to last,
 the Spirit there,
especially in those vulnerable moments
—hope.

          In times of transition, Spirit!

          When you go against the grain and it is so rough, God is already there!

          In moments when you come up short, God is still there!

          Endangered, alienated, desperate
—feral sheep, lost sheep, sent sheep
—the Good Shepherd meets our vulnerability in hope.

A+A

The Spirit will not be barred.

            Eight some years ago, when I first became Pastor of St. Stephen, someone pointed to the looming metal door to my office, and told me:
            “Having a firm door was part of the plan after the 1967 riots where a South Plainfield policeman was murdered. If Black Panthers took over the worship service,” I was told, “the plan was for the Pastor to escape and barricade himself in his office and call the police… with things the way they are these days… shouldn’t we maybe think of doing that again pastor?”

“What have I gotten myself into?” I wondered.
“What kind of place is South Plainfield, and what kind of people have called me?” I wondered.
“By taking this call have I betrayed the people of Tabernacle in West Philly and St. John’s in North West Baltimore? Who showed me, as a Seminary Student, more kindness and patience than I deserved?”

            I shouldn’t have worried—the Spirit takes the strangest combinations and makes them combust into grand powers we would never expect.

            Several years later, there were pulpit swaps between Cross of Life and St. Stephen. I remember one Parishioner saying, “If you’d told me ten years ago there would be a black gay man in St. Stephen’s pulpit, and I’d like it, I’d never have believed you!”

            Later still, whole congregations crossed that invisible line between South Plainfield and Plainfield. Several of you told me you’d not transgressed that boundary line since 1967.

            Later still, we mourned with Cross of Life at its closing, and became a place for many of their members
—our members now
—to be a part, to assume leadership positions on council and beyond.
Sunday may be the most racially segregated day of the week
—but not here!
Not at St. Stephen.

            I don’t recount this series of fortunate events to toot any horns, but instead to state unequivocally that
Jesus doesn’t do doors
—the Spirit will not be barred.

            Prayer

            These two stories of Pentecost in John and Acts seem familiar…
yes of course we read Acts 2 every year—the poor Lector has to cut their teeth on Cappadocia and Phrygia… every year…

            But, I think it is familiar too, because it appraises and parallels our present reality,
pointing out the continuities and discontinuities between our Story and the Spirit’s Story.

             In that way, Pentecost is timeless and timely.

            Listen to Acts
—violent wind and fire, the Spirit turning the whole world upside down. “blood, fire, smoky mist—the sun dark, the moon blood.”

            Hasn’t it felt like…
since the fires in Australia at the start of this year (or maybe even years before)
we’ve been in some sort of upside down, rickety and condemned,
roller coaster version of the world?

            By way of example, the fires and smoke in Minneapolis and around the country
—clouds of indiscriminate pepper spray,
a police station torched,
reporters arrested and shot with pepper bullets,
my cousin’s corner pharmacy…
she went in it on Wednesday,
 it was burnt down by Friday.

            Do we not get a whiff of what Peter is pointing to?

            In Acts, the Spirit speaks the Gospel in every language,
the Spirit, as Peter explains, will be poured out on all flesh…
not some flesh, all flesh.
Pentecost is the reversing of Babel
—because of the Spirit’s work of reconciliation among and between all people,
we can all come together,
all understand each other,
all be one…

            Yet, that reconciliation seems so far off.

So far off, when Ahmaud (A-mod) Arbery was executed by self-styled vigilantes while jogging in Georgia. 

So far off, because Breonna Taylor was killed while waking up in Kentucky. 

So far off, when Dreasjon Reed—shot 8 times in Indiana.

So far off, ‘cause of Christian Cooper’s close call in Central Park. So far off…

            The reconciled reality that the Spirit is bringing, seems so far off, because our society acts like the lives of Black Folk don’t matter, but Black Lives do Matter!

            

            And then in John’s Gospel… from Jesus’ lips the Holy Spirit surely given,
given that we might have true peace…
the breath of God on offer…

            Breath offered as George Floyd echoes Eric Garner before him,
“I can’t breathe!” Begging for his life while it is squeezed out of him for all to see in Minnesota.
“I can’t breathe!”

            Breath offered as the Corona Virus fills the lungs of so many with fluid until they gasp for breath,
until, even,
they expire.

            Breath offered through mask shielding and mourning clothe.

            The breath, the Spirit!
Holy Spirit come with peace!
Peace, as Scriptures makes abundantly clear, not as the world gives…
for there will be those who shout “peace peace” and there is no peace…

            The Spirit’s Peace
shows the pierced side and wounded hands,
on the other side of execution.

            The Spirit’s Peace is intertwined
—Father to Son and Son to his Beloved Community
—intertwined in the mission,
our mission,
to redeem the whole world.

            

            Finally, doors locked for fear
—at least that one feels familiar.
Jesus “enters in and stands among them” even when they’re afraid…
and does the same for us.

            Afraid of a virus that takes our most vulnerable, and then surprises us with its greed and appetite, taking still more. The Spirit will not be barred.

            Afraid that our community will fray and fall away if we continue to keep everyone safe by gathering for worship in a dispersed and remote manner.
Jesus doesn’t do doors.

            Afraid of our neighbors who are different from us in one way or another
—afraid that the drum beat of tribe and race will drown out the possibility of friendship and connection and respect.
The Spirit will not be barred.

            Afraid that the heavy weight of history and the rotten fragrance of prejudice and hatred will shape our encounters with police, and store clerks, and doctors, and others we wish we could trust.
Jesus doesn’t do doors.

            I have to believe the Spirit that took that barrier (that blast-door) of an office door, and all that goes with it, and is transforming us into this new community…

I have to believe that the Spirit Jesus breathed upon the Disciples, and every generation of disciples after them…

I have to believe the Holy Spirit that spoke in Jerusalem and was spoken of by the Prophet Joel.

            I have to believe that Spirit will work in unexpected ways to turn this world upside down, bringing about healing and justice.

            Will breath life into folk who cannot breathe, and courage and will into all who can do something about it.

            Will rebuild areas threatened with death, into communities of new life.

            Will bring true peace, a peace that faces the world as it is and as it ought to be, and as it shall be.

            I have to believe that Jesus doesn’t do doors and that the Spirit will not be barred.

A+A

Reopening a Congregation Responsibly Part 2: Some things to think about

So, about a month ago I tried to synthesize some of the opening plans floating out there. At the time the whole exercise was somewhat abstract. Fast forward to today, I have seven concrete concerns about re-opening.

-We ARE in the middle of a Pandemic.

I’m very bearish about any rush to meet in person. I know many regions of the country are almost untouched, but that’s not my experience. In my little borough, South Plainfield, we’ve had more deaths than all of Slovakia and currently have more people sick than Madagascar. We’re in the epicenter of a pandemic.

Folk who had the virus, or are currently infected, will tell you it isn’t a joke; even moderate infections can leave a mark. A month in, some folk still have no appetite and can barely walk around the block, others are still bedridden 8 weeks in, still others are on ventilators, and, of course, some are dead.

If gathering together is dangerous, especially for people over 65 and people with heart conditions and people with diabetes, gathering a group of people mainly made up of those folk, is a bad idea. And here’s the thing, humans are bad at assessing risk, especially when it is sunny out and the enemy is invisible. High-risk parishioners will show up once you open up, even if you tell them not to.

-In person worship will be categorically different.

Worship in person won’t be worship in person. People kept telling me this, and I didn’t believe them, until I experienced it myself; I was in the middle of doing a graveside commendation when it hit home. Staying six feet away, everyone in masks so you can’t see facial expressions, saying the familiar words, but with so many barriers—it was a commendation, but different, not a degree or two different, but a whole different kind of commendation.

So too worship in person. Worshiping without: singing, communion, offering, peace, greeting, bulletins, and fellowship hour, is not going to be different than normal worship by a degree, but instead will be a different kind of worship. I think our current online worship is closer to “normal” worship than what we’ll experience when we first return to in person worship. That’s going to be a problem; people will push for something more “normal”.

-People will always want more.

That brings me to my third point. There is the “If you give a mouse a cookie” principle. Whatever actions we take will be almost impossible to undo. On top of that people are going to push for more, especially when they find in person worship to basically be a 15 minute prayer meeting where they can’t touch or talk. If you invite 25 people onto the Church’s front lawn, you’ll likely have 50 people in the sanctuary without social distancing, rather quickly; we have to be very careful how we remove the boundaries we set up.

-How will you enforce the rules?

I am skeptical about a congregation’s ability to enforce rules. Let’s be real, there are going to be people doing (hopefully unintentionally) dangerous things, and we all want to be a nice community that loves everyone and is inclusive.

So, what happens when the 26th person shows up on our front lawn and the law only allows for 25? Is the usher going to tell them they have to go? What do we do when a developmentally disabled person decides it is time to pass the peace and their compulsion is to do things the same every time, even though we’re not passing the peace? What happens when a church member decides to “be funny” and starts shaking hands or fake coughing on people?

-Bathrooms.

Bathrooms are a big barrier. Here in New Jersey some churches went to a “drive-in” church model. Churches were not supposed to let anyone into the building, no matter what, including going to the bathroom. I can’t imagine that worked out well.

In general, public bathrooms have been a hard thing to figure out for spaces that have them. How do you make sure only one person enters the bathroom at a time? How do we clean surfaces after every use? For that matter, how do we vent the bathroom in such a way that someone can go in afterwards and not risk sucking down tiny virus droplets into their lungs from the other folk who’ve used the restroom?

-Insurance Companies.

Before you open make sure you’ve talk with your insurance company. If you don’t follow their recommendations (most companies simply ask for a formal action plan and compliance with state laws) you might lose your insurance!

-Fatigue.

So, one of my initial impulses with this whole thing was a phased re-open with everything changing every 2 weeks. Maybe there are Pastors out there who can roll with the punches that well, but I am not one of them. It took two months of experimentation and a lot of extra work to get livestream working moderately well. Just the idea of flipping to a whole new model while still maintaining the same level of online presence, and then doing that again a few more times in rapid succession, is exhausting! 

Why and what are the consequences?

The two big questions we’ll have to ask about all in person gatherings, whenever we do that, are Why? and What are the consequences?

-Why? 

Is it because a secular authority has said we can? Is it because we want to get back to normal? Is it to be near people praying for a little bit? Is it to serve our neighbor?

-What are the consequences? 

What will happen to the 26th person who arrive in worship? the person with a compromised immune system? the usher who has to boot her best friend from church? the parishioner who accidentally kills one of us and puts two more in the hospital because they thought they just had allergies?