Episodes
Sunday May 26, 2019
What Gift Can We Bring?
Sunday May 26, 2019
Sunday May 26, 2019
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC May 26, 2019, the sixth Sunday of Easter.
Watching birds has always been a favorite pastime for me. Over the years, one of my favorite things has been to observe the birds making nests. In one parsonage we lived in there were shutters on the windows and the sparrows nested behind one of the shutters—complete with bits of candy wrapper, long, draping weeds poking through the shutter, and colorful scraps of trash. That little nest hatched at least 4 sparrows that spring.
Often, birds build their nests in places that are quite guarded, with openings or entrances only accessible to the little family who inhabits the nest. Part of the warmth and safety of the nest is in being closed-off to others who may want to come in. We know that this is with good reason. The natural world is full of predators just waiting to take advantage of the small and the vulnerable. Even though it was messy, that nest poking through the shutters on my home gave me comfort. I was glad the chicks were not out in the open, that they were guarded and safe.
I must admit, there is a part of me right now that would very much like to find a guarded place, a place shielded from critiques and attacks, from overwhelming responsibilities and tensions that are not readily eased, a place where I could retreat and only allow those whom I love and trust into my hiding place. It would feel much safer if I could fortify my heart, creating a barrier to keep it from being broken. Anyone with me?
So, of course, our scripture today has as its center an open heart. Lydia’s open heart to be precise. [But before we get to Lydia, I want to catch us up. We’ve been hanging out with Peter for most of our time in Acts—with a detour onto the road to Damascus with Paul. A lot of territory gets covered between last week’s lectionary story in which Peter had a “bed, bath, and the great beyond” vision that broke the circle of God’s saving activity wide open, and today’s encounter at the river. Between Acts 11 and 16, Paul gets commissioned as a missionary, he and Barnabas have gone on a long mission trip, the apostle James has been killed by Herod, Peter has been imprisoned and freed by an angel, and there’s a big church meeting in Jerusalem to come to agreement on requirements for Gentile converts (known as the Jerusalem Council—#WayofJesusNext?). In Acts 16, Paul has set out on his second missionary journey joined first by Silas and then Timothy. It’s during this trip that Paul has the vision and call to go to Macedonia, a Roman province in the northern region of the Greek peninsula.
That’s the written story.] The unwritten backstory of Lydia, the woman at the center of today’s encounter, must be inferred by details in the narrative. Lydia is from Thyatira—across the Aegean Sea from Philippi—so she is a resident alien. She is the head of her household and a business woman, selling one of the most precious and expensive dyed cloths of the time—purple. She is described as a “worshiper of God” and is leading a group of women in worship outside the gates at the river. In a place and time in which women were generally second-class citizens, with narrowly defined roles in society, they often gathered at the river or at wells, places to use their voices and create communities of solidarity and support. We don’t know how Lydia came to have the means to create and sustain her business or how she came to be a leader in her new city, but we can assume that she is a strong, capable, savvy leader who has overcome many odds and crossed a great distance to be where she is—economically and socially. I can only imagine what she endured in order to survive and to thrive.
Paul and his companions meet Lydia and the other women at the river on the Sabbath day and share their message of God’s liberating love in Jesus Christ. And the miracle of today’s story is that after everything Lydia has been through, her heart is open to eagerly receive it. And from that open-hearted place, she invites strangers into her home. If you read to the end of chapter 16 you will see that the mission in Philippi begins and ends with references to Lydia. She was “homebase,” providing shelter and likely financial support for Paul, Silas, and Timothy throughout their stay. Lydia’s open heart led to an open hand and open door. She shared the gifts she had to support God’s work of love and liberation. Lydia May be the official saint of cloth dyers, but I see her as a saint of all those folks who have to overcome the odds just because of who they are to take their place among the beloved community—those who kept their hearts open even when it would have been easier to check out, to rage, to be on the defensive, to shut others out: Women in leadership who keep showing up and offering their gifts even though they are slandered, dismissed, and objectified; Persons of color who keep showing up and offering their gifts even though they are stereotyped, attacked, and demonized; LGBTQ folk who keep showing up and offering their gifts even though they are rejected, judged, and mocked; Immigrants, the poor, the unhoused, those who battle mental illness or addiction... If we had the time I could name so many who inspire and lead with an open heart even in the midst of hardship and attack.
On the Way of Jesus, we are consistently called to be open—to be open to new insight, to new directions, to new people, to new opportunities. We are called to open our hands to share what we have, to open our doors to offer hospitality and sustenance for others, to open our hearts to both receive and give love. I think of the big news this past week of Robert F. Smith’s extraordinary announcement during Morehouse College’s commencement ceremonies that, in addition to his already promised $1.5 million gift to the school, he would pay off all the student debt of the class of 2019. It also makes me think of the equally powerful witness of so many working families who save and scrimp to support their children—many of whom also work in addition to taking classes—so that they graduate with little or no debt. Both of these are examples of bringing the gifts we have and using them for the sake of others. This is an open heart leading to an open—and generous—hand.
Because it’s been my resting place and self-care the past couple of days, I think of the life-changing gifts of the Fab 5 of the TV show Queer Eye. The men who are receiving support and guidance almost always have places in their lives that are overly guarded or closed off. It is revelatory to watch how TLC, honesty, vulnerability and fabulosity help them begin to open up—their minds, their homes, their hearts. If you’ve never seen the program, each of the five (gay) hosts has a particular skill they offer to the person seeking help. Even though it’s a television show, I find the relationships and human encounters that happen to be signs of hope and a witness to the power of open-hearted generosity and what can happen when we share our expertise to empower others to live more freely and fully.
And I think of the “UMC Next” gathering that happened this past week in Leawood, Kansas. I knew the more than 600 people who gathered would bring all sorts of perspectives and attitudes and feelings with them. I knew that there were more than a few folks struggling to keep an open mind and heart. Some were determined not to. There are good reasons for why this is so. Hearts that have been offered and rejected or hurt over and over again are shy at best, well-defended to the point of untouchable at worst. What I observed is that, for the most part, folks tried. There were moments when it felt like Spirit opened hearts to receive the gifts that were being offered through personal testimonies and invitations to be the church we long to be. It was a gift to observe the ways that persons engaged in meaningful and challenging conversation, bringing the gifts of their own insight and skill and experience to the work. I want to let you know we are working on strategies to share information and engage with you about what happened in Minneapolis at the UM Forward gathering, in Leawood at the UMC Next gathering, and at our upcoming Annual Conference session. For today, let me just share that this past week I witnessed extraordinary gifts being brought forward for the sake of a more loving, just, inclusive expression of Methodism in the future. This happened because, like Lydia, persons allowed their hearts to be opened, their minds to be opened, their skills and ultimately themselves to be shared.
We human beings are quite good at developing what psychologists call emotional and relational “defense mechanisms” (and sometimes these serve us quite well). But we know the commandment of Jesus to love others as he loves us—with reckless abandon, with an openness of heart and spirit that doesn’t distinguish between clean and unclean and that leaves our hearts, in their openness, completely vulnerable and exposed. In the Gospel text assigned for today Jesus has the nerve to say: “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Be open and don’t be afraid. Sure. No problem.
Jesus also says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” What does the world give? The world gives plenty of good reasons to have troubled and afraid hearts! And what’s the difference between the world’s peace and Christ’s peace? The world’s peace is of the kind that placates and soothes by drawing lines in the sand, by creating dividing walls both concretely and emotionally. The world’s peace is like that sparrow’s nest, protected, guarded, closed-off, defensive, and even sometimes violent so as not to be hurt. Christ’s peace is peace in the midst of suffering, not in absence of it. Christ’s peace is a peace that comes from being open to the power and presence of God. And when Jesus tells us not to be troubled or afraid, I think in part he is telling us to be open, like Lydia, to God’s knocking at the door of our hearts, to be open to the message of Christ’s word of love, to be open to the possibility that we are safe in our relationship with God, even as we may continue to be vulnerable in so many ways in the world.
Many years ago now, I heard of an art contest run by a religious organization. The contest asked artists to contribute images of peace drawn from the natural world. Scores of photographs, paintings, and drawings were entered with pictures of pastoral scenes: wheat fields gently blowing in the wind, a strong, solitary oak tree surrounded by a field of flowers, gardens, grazing animals, etc. But the winning entry was not one of these images. Rather it was a photograph of the raging, pounding rapids of a deep and powerful river, the water crashing around great, heavy boulders on its way downstream. Reaching out over the swirling, destructive waters was the branch of a tree. On the slender, lonely end of that branch was perched a bird’s nest full of small, vulnerable chicks. This image is one in which the presence of danger and vulnerability are right there in your face, but in which the presence of being held in the embrace of home provides deep peace.
Resting in the peace of Christ, we are nurtured and fed and strengthened. Resting in the peace of Christ, we are given the confidence to be who we are and to take risks and to care and to choose, because we know we are safe and we aren’t alone and we are loved. Even when we know we are vulnerable, when we face illness or pain or challenge, and when we open ourselves up in ways that are scary, the peace of Christ is available to us to give us courage and peace of mind.
The more we are open to God, the more of God’s love and peace will overflow from us into the world, the more of our resources and skills and SELF we will be able to share for the sake of others’ flourishing. As we open ourselves to the love and presence of God, we become instruments of God’s love and peace. As we do that together, we become a congregation—and I pray a Methodist movement—that builds a nest for others suspended above the destructive realities of the world, a nest that provides an environment that nurtures and sustains new life and that values the gifts that each one brings, a nest that keeps growing to include any and all who seek the nurture of a family who knows that the river is crashing with great destructive power and that life is fragile and that love is vulnerability, but who have the courage to believe that hope and peace are real, too. And that being open is worth it.
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