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Foundry is an historic, progressive United Methodist Church that welcomes all, worships passionately, challenges the status quo, & seeks to transform the world.
Episodes
Sunday Apr 26, 2015
Sunday Apr 26, 2015
A sermon preached by Rev. Dawn M. Hand, Executive Pastor & Chief of Staff at Foundry UMC on April 26, 2015, Fourth Sunday of Easter.
Text: 1 John 3: 16-24Forty-three years ago, in a small church in the southern region, an energetic woman who had helped to start a civil rights law firm felt the urge to help teach a Confirmation class. She had already been a school teacher. Teaching that first Confirmation class would be the start of a long journey of working with and teaching those classes. She has taught several second generations. Last week, this now 75 year-old church mother and the congregation witnessed the confirmation of six vibrant young people including her second grandchild. They also witnessed the congregation’s first third generation confirmation experience. She has taught the grandfather, the son and now the grandson. This is her gift of love.
Perhaps the first thought that crosses our mind about love is the feelings and emotions we experience. For many of us, a song that we hear on the radio or something that we have downloaded on our mobile devices will trigger an emotion. Sometimes it’s unexpected. Just think about that one or maybe two love songs that can really get you going. I imagine many of us have at least one. Then I got to thinking, what are some of the greatest or sappiest long songs. I did a little internet searching and found…
- Roberta Flack’s recording of Killing Me Softly…
- Anne Murray’s – You Needed Me
- Al Green’s – Let’s stay together
- And then this one, Endless Love by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross
Listen to some of these lovely lyrics…
My love
There's only you in my life
The only thing that's right
My first love
You're every breath that I take
You're every step I make
And I
I want to share
All my love with you
No one else will do
And your eyes
They tell me how much you care
Oh yes You will always be
My endless love
Really…
I believe everyone desires to be loved. We like the safety and security of what that brings. We long for the softness and sweetness in being bathed in loving connections. It’s human nature to feel this way. It’s a good thing. There must come a time, though, that expressions of love move beyond the warm feelings to authentic actions.
As John wrote in the first letter, ‘let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and in action.’
That church mother, shows love decade after decade in volunteering her time, harnessing and even spending her own resources to work with and teach children. Recently, I asked her, why do you continue to teach confirmation after all of these years? She talked about how a person in her home church some 65 years or so ago taught a similar class and that made a lasting impact on her. And then she recalled the words of Holy Scripture as recorded in the synoptic gospels, ‘Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom belongs to such as these.’ In the context of church, this life-long civil rights activist believes nurturing children in the faith is her calling. This is one of the ways she extends love - in truth and in action.
As we are in this season of Eastertide, the fifth Sunday in Easter - I believe love is the core, it’s the essence of resurrection… Jesus lived, died and rose in love that was gifted to us by God.
God so loved the world that God gave us God’s only son. This was God’s desire.
In his book, The Magnificent Defeat, Frederick Buechner writes,
“We are children, perhaps, at the very moment when we know that it is as children that God loves us - not because we have deserved his love and not in spite of our undeserving; not because we try and not because we recognize the futility of our trying; but simply because he has chosen to love us.”
My friends, I believe, how we show love to others is a reflection of how we truly value love. Love is an expression that flows from the core of who we are and whose we are.
I think the description of love as ascribed to the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13 is the embodiment of love. Most of the time the text is used in weddings. Which is just fine because it illustrates how to establish community. In order to build a strong and faithful community, it takes love.
1 Corinthians 13: ‘Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.’
Again, I say, how we show love to others is a reflection of how we value love.
Now, what I really want to say is, how we show love to others is a reflection of how we honor and love God. I thought that might be a bit too provocative. And, since I tend to shy away from provocative situations…
Not really, here we go…
When 14.7 million children in America are in poverty and even now, 1 in 5 children has a chance of being poor and the younger the child is the poorer the child is likely to be...(1) I wonder what definition of love these young sisters and brothers will come to know. Child poverty is a sin and I believe in this county, one of the wealthiest in the entire universe, we should fix this. What’s holding us back? If these were our children would we act more swiftly? Guess what, they are our children.
When one-fifth of DC residents live in poverty and on any given night there are more than 7,500 homeless individuals (2) … I wonder what definition of love these neighbors will come to know. If we were the ones sleeping on the street, would we want someone to act more swiftly?
When we know that LGBTQ people continue to be discriminated against in the full life of the church, I wonder…
When unarmed folks continue to be killed. When firing a weapon is the first line of defense in situations that may be resolved by other means. I wonder… Yes,
#blacklivesmatter and honestly - all lives matter.
I wonder how the church will show love in these injustices.
Here these words again from John’s first letter, ‘We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us - and we ought to lay down our lives for one another… ‘let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.’
Sisters and brothers, Jesus’ love action was laying down his life for us. This was God’s ultimate gift. A love unbound.
How do we respond in love to God to all of the injustices in our society?
I have a suggestion. Let’s not limit what God can and will do through us, if we open ourselves we will know that there are no bounds to God’s love…
God’s love is not stagnant
God’s love is not bound up
God’s love cannot be restrained or retracted
God’s love cannot be concealed or contained
Throughout human history, there is evidence after evidence of God’s love moving, flowing and being unleashed to encompass the fullness of God’s people.
God’s love - love unbound - liberates…
Opportunities abound for us to show love. Where ever you are employed or volunteering, or serving, whatever your calling is in your chosen profession, whenever you encounter folks in your daily journey, you can extend love in truth and action.
If we as the church won’t do it, how can we expect others to do that which we will not do?
Now, I’m going to say a word about our Holy Conversation taking place here today at 12:30 in the fellowship hall. This conversation is a continuation of house meetings with Pastor Ginger, board and staff retreat, planning sessions, congregational surveys and more. We are listening and opening ourselves to what God is going to do through us. We need you to come and to be a part of this conversation. Staff, members of the Management Board and other key leaders have been working to fashion this gathering. It’s a time for us talk and to listen together about the emerging vision, future board processes, engaging and building stronger ministry teams. This collaborative work will help Foundry extend love in truth and action.
Sisters and brothers, with so many life events that are happening all around us, I understand that some may think that it’s too much, we can’t make a difference. I want to remind those of that were here a couple of weeks when Rev. Dr. Iantha Mills, senior pastor of our sister congregation Asbury, was here. She had calculated the number of churches and people (and that was just United Methodist Churches) that could join together and make 6 million meals for Stop Hunger Now. She also calculated that there are enough faithful people of all religions that could come together and form a human unbroken chain along K street and in Chinatown to shut down human trafficking. I believe we can do more. We have more than enough resources in the district; people, expertise, and yes funding to come alongside other organizations to do our part in combating the injustices of chronic homelessness, child poverty, LGBTQ discrimination, devaluing life - my friends, we can make a difference.
We are an Easter people who live out our faith in this sacred place, we have said that our calling is to ‘Love God, Love Each other and Change the World.
I believe we have the capacity to define our love. What will our love say about us?
(1) http://www.childrensdefense.org/library/PovertyReport/EndingChildPovertyNow.html
(2) http://www.thrivedc.org/what-we-do/homelessness-hunger-in-dc
Sunday Apr 19, 2015
Sunday Apr 19, 2015
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC April 19, 2015, Third Sunday of Easter, Observation of Earth Day.
Text: Luke 24:36b-48
“The Vatican is set to host a major conference on climate change this month that will feature leading researchers on global warming and an opening address by U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon.” This is part of Pope Francis’ “green agenda.” Religion News Service reports that “The one-day summit on April 28 will…include participants from major world religions and aims to ‘elevate the debate on the moral dimensions of protecting the environment...Another goal is to highlight ‘the intrinsic connection between respect for the environment and respect for people — especially the poor, the excluded, victims of human trafficking and modern slavery, children, and future generations.’”[i] One would think that this emphasis might garner support from all corners. But of course there are folks who not only disagree, but are outraged that Francis is making such a big deal—and is planning to issue an encyclical—on climate change. Some of those opposed to the Pope’s advocacy in this area believe “that climate change is being overhyped or that human activity is not a factor and that remedies may do more harm than good…Others simply believe that Francis…should not be weighing in on issues that touch on technical and scientific matters that some contend are still debatable.”[ii]
Of course the fiercest debates around environmental issues often come to a head when there is a lot of money to be made and/or the promise of jobs. I have had conversations with close family members (remember I come from Oklahoma and Texas, after all) who argue that careful engineering and maintenance of things like off-shore drilling, the Keystone Pipeline, and fracking are not necessarily bad for the planet, but rather it is only when companies try to do things on the cheap or without care that harm is done. My goal is to keep an open mind and to try to see things from a variety of perspectives. I know that my family members (and others like them) want to care for creation even as they advocate for practices such as those mentioned. But when we add up those things together with mountaintop removal, forest removal, polluted groundwater, loss of wetlands, greenhouse gas production, paving everything in sight, and Lord knows what else, I can’t help but think that we are, collectively, being driven first and foremost not by a balanced sense of stewardship of both human and environmental needs, but by the money to be made from coal, development, oil, agribusiness, and more. There are folks here today who have a much more nuanced and complete understanding of the environmental, economic, social, and political issues involved in all of this than I do. But on this Sunday before the official observation of “Earth Day” I want to remind us all of a very simple truth. Regardless of your views about particular practices or perspectives, our Judeo-Christian faith specifically calls us to a deep and intentional connection with all of creation. In his focus on environmental stewardship in all its dimensions, Pope Francis is not, as one particularly mean-spirited writer suggests, being “an ideologue and a meddlesome egoist”[iii]; he is being a Christian. Christians are not only called to be caretakers of the world, its earth, air, water, and creatures, but we are also reminded that we are, ourselves, part of the creation. Both versions of the creation story in Genesis highlight our place and role within the beauty and order of things. We are creatures, the human animal, made in the image of God. The Christian understanding is not different from the Native American wisdom reflected in these words of Chief Seattle: “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.”
Many social and cultural factors have conditioned us these days to miss the breadth and depth of our interconnectedness—not only with one another, but with all of creation. We see our lives, our stuff, our planet, our time, the very air we breathe as our own. It’s MINE, we think… and we begin thinking that way at an early age—just check out this list of 10 “toddler property laws”:
- If I like it, it’s mine.
- If it’s in my hand, it’s mine.
- If I can take it from you, it’s mine.
- If I had it a little while ago, it’s mine.
- If it’s mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
- If I’m doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
- If it looks just like mine, it’s mine.
- If I think it’s mine, it’s mine.
- If it’s yours and I steal it, it’s mine.
- If I saw it first, or last, makes no difference, it’s still mine.
What we can laugh about when it comes to toddlers is less funny when adults who should know better function according to the same principles. And sadly, that happens all the time. It is up to people of conscience—people of faith—to be the “grown-ups.” The Psalms give us the words: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!” (Ps. 133:1) and “The earth is the Lord’s and everything on it belongs to God!” (Ps. 24:1) The earth belongs to God! “Our” lives belong to God! “Our” stuff, “our” land, all of it—belongs to God. We didn’t do anything to deserve the beauty of the earth or the flesh and blood of our lives. They are gifts to us from Creator God.
Our failure as a human race to remember and honor this truth has contributed to the devastation of habitats, the pollution of waters, the extinction of unique creatures, and whole eco-systems being thrown into imbalance and chaos. When we lose our sense of being creatures within the created order, our sense of being in a mutual relationship, with the responsibility to take the long view as we care for the planet and its other creatures, we begin to think that it’s our “right” to take, to destroy, to dump, to do the convenient thing instead of the just and loving thing. It’s our “right” to buy products that pollute. It’s “our” land so we can do with it whatever we want. And when the animals who have lost their homes move into “our space” then it’s their fault for complicating or endangering “our” lives. It seems to me that it is this mindset that opens the door to our mistreatment of other human beings as well. When we don’t see ourselves as interconnected, but rather as separate objects or obstacles to be used and abused, fended off or feared, then it becomes more possible to shoot someone in the back… Oh, we are a wounded creation…
The other day on one of our evening walks with Harvey, our clumber spaniel, Anthony and I were marveling at the beauty of spring on Capitol Hill. And Anthony said, “It’s amazing that even with all we do to the Earth, we still get this!” “Yes,” I thought, “the power of life is stubborn that way…it will continue to find a way to flourish, to flower, to bear fruit.” But as strong as creation is, it is wounded…
As I pondered the Gospel reading for today, I noticed that, like the earth that continues to offer itself to us with visions of renewal and life season after season, Jesus offers his risen, wounded body to the disciples, an invitation to a renewed relationship of mutuality. The power of life, the power of God, is stubborn, refusing to be destroyed even when we do our worst. But there, in Jesus’ wounds, we see that there are lasting consequences to our thoughtless, selfish, destructive actions. We are invited to see in his hands and feet the brokenness of our created world, brokenness for which we, in part, are responsible; and we are invited into a renewed relationship of mutuality. What does that mean? Well, it means, first of all, being willing to face up to the complex reality of climate change and of our complicity. Living in the city and having an alley as my driveway makes it impossible to ignore the fact that we consumers create a vast amount of trash. Our consumption of energy and water, the choices we make about transportation and food, all of these things directly impact the earth.[iv] I imagine that today I am preaching to the proverbial choir. But if that’s the case, then it’s time for the choir to “preach,” to walk the talk. When’s the last time you really considered what you are doing or not doing to care for the earth? Even with what you are already doing in your home or workplace, how might you increase your commitment and impact in caring for creation? What are we doing or not doing, using or not using here at Foundry to care for the earth? One exciting project is that likely within the next year, we will have a whole bank of solar panels installed on our flat roof to provide clean energy for our building. This project will not only save Foundry money, but will also significantly reduce the amount of greenhouse gas emitted into the atmosphere. // Next Sunday as part of our Holy Conversation, you will have an opportunity to learn about opportunities to be engaged and connected in ministry here at Foundry. One of those ways is to jump on board with the Foundry Green Team. We need folks who care and who are creative and committed to helping raise consciousness and enhance our congregation’s stewardship of creation. This is one way that you can help Foundry live our mission to “change the world.”
Like the first disciples, even with all the destructive and hurtful things we have done, we still get the forgiveness, peace, and love of the risen Christ. The risen Christ is the reason we hold out hope that God is able to bring about the promise of a perfectly restored creation. And we can share in God’s restorative work as we remember our deep interconnectedness, see and touch the woundedness of creation, and then choose to actually DO something about it. What will that perfectly restored creation look like? It will look like the full realization of the Kin-dom of God. I will leave you with one author’s description:
And then all that has divided us will merge
And then compassion will be wedded to power
And then softness will come to a world that is harsh and unkind
And then both men and women will be gentle
And then both women and men will be strong
And then no person will be subject to another’s will
And then all will be rich and free and varied
And then the greed of some will give way to the needs of many
And then all will share equally in the Earth’s abundance
And then all will care for the sick and the weak and the old
And then all will nourish the young
And then all will cherish life’s creatures
And then all will live in harmony with each other and the Earth
And then everywhere will be called Eden once again[v]
[i] David Gibson, “Pope Francis throw the weight of his office behind tackling climate change,” accessed on 4/17/15 at http://www.religionnews.com/2015/04/15/pope-francis-throws-weight-office-behind-tackling-climate-change/
[ii] Ibid.
[iii]Maureen Mullarkey, “Francis & Political Illusion,” accessed 4/19/15 at http://www.firstthings.com/blogs/mullarkey/2015/01/francis-political-illusion
[iv] http://www.oecd.org/environment/consumption-innovation/42183878.pdf
[v] Judy Chicago, Life Prayers, Edited by Elizabeth Roberts & Elias Amidon, HarperSanFrancisco, 1996, p. 17.
Sunday Apr 12, 2015
Sunday Apr 12, 2015
Guest sermon by Rev. Dr. Ianther M. Mills, Senior Pastor, Asbury United Methodist Church
Sunday Apr 05, 2015
Sunday Apr 05, 2015
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry United Methodist Church April 5,2015, Easter Sunday.
Text: Mark 16:1-8
This is no way to run a resurrection! Fleeing in terror? Really? That’s what we’re left with? According to the oldest and most reliable texts we have of Mark, the answer is “yes.” Those earliest versions of the text end right where our reading ended today—with verse 8. That’s why, in most Bibles, you’ll see a flurry of notes to try to explain the “alternate” or “longer endings” of the story. There are many hypotheses as to why these alternate endings were tacked on to Mark’s story. But the most obvious is that the early church couldn’t stand the abrupt ending—this totally unacceptable closing scene to such an amazing drama… “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.” The early church evidently agreed that this, in fact, is no way to run a resurrection. It’s like when we’re watching the big game and the power goes out just before the pivotal play, leaving us without the satisfaction of seeing the outcome. It’s like having the credits begin to roll when you feel the movie isn’t really over.
I don’t know about you, but I hate that. I want resolution! Oh—let’s face it—I, for one, want a happy ending. In this case, I want the assurance of a Jesus-sighting. I want the director’s cut from other Gospel versions of this story: to hear Jesus speak Mary’s name, to see Jesus making up with those who betrayed and denied him, to see him break bread with his friends, to hear him tell us what to do next… I want someone to explain the whole thing—to tell the rest of the story—so that maybe we could understand why everything didn’t get tidied up after the crucifixion and resurrection to explain why things are the way they are: why there is seemingly endless violence, war, suffering, death and on and on… // We all want resolution to the drama, we all want to see the final play of the game, we all want answers to the questions raised by the story, raised by our own lives. And yet, with Mark, we don’t get want we want. We get unfinished business. The story doesn’t get tied up at the end with swelling violins and thinly fabricated happily-ever-afters. The reality is that we are left with the devastating ambiguity of an empty tomb, with the empty space between us and Jesus who (we’re told with NO scientific explanation) has been raised and is out ahead of us calling us to follow.
These days, if you needed to get to, say, Galilee to meet up with your friend Jesus who’s texted you to meet him, you’d likely use Google Maps. If you want to connect with someone, you simply put their name into FaceBook. Want to watch a story with a happy ending? Want to hear a certain song? Want help managing your calendar or your stress levels or your caloric intake? There’s an app for that. Well, today, it would be nice to have an app to know what to do with the empty tomb, with the empty space between us and Jesus who is out ahead of us. But what if the empty space IS the “app?” “Apps” allow us do things, hear things, find things. What do the empty spaces in this Easter story allow us do or hear or find?
The proclamation Christians make today is that the empty tomb allows us to have hope. Because an empty tomb that once held the dead body of Jesus, that One the domination system thought they had killed, means that death does not win, that despair does not win, tragedy and injustice do not win. An empty tomb means cruelty, cancer, racism, sexism, homophobia do not win, our brokenness, ignorance, and greed do not win, war, anxiety and guilt does not win. The emptiness of that tomb gives us reason to hope that God’s love and justice wins and that LIFE not death is our destination both in this world and in the world to come.
And to follow Jesus into the places we have been told to go, to wander into the empty space between where we are and where Christ is, is a confirmation that the story ISN’T OVER; the credits haven’t yet rolled. The game is STILL ON. And we are in the middle of it, you and I. The empty space stretches out before us and is meant to be filled with something that resembles true life. The Easter app, the Life App, allows you to hope and to be set free from fear and anything that keeps you from stepping out into that space, into the uncertainty and risk of living—really living as Jesus lived. That means living a life not free from struggle and pain, but a life infused with love and meaning, a life of beauty and power even in the midst of suffering. I think of writer Anne Lamott’s friend who, in the face of terminal cancer, was determined to soak up and savor every moment of his life—and, because of that, he says “he no longer feels that he has a life-threatening disease: he now says he’s leading a disease-threatening life…I’m going to live until I die.”[i]
The poets echo the call: Emily Dickinson says, “Love is the Fellow of the Resurrection / Scooping up the Dust and chanting ‘Live’!” Mary Oliver famously asks, “What is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?” And Rainer Maria Rilke offers this, one of my favorite poems about stepping out of safety and into the wondrous and terrible adventure of our lives:
Dove that ventured outside, flying far
from the dovecote:
housed and protected again, one with the day, the
night,
knows what serenity is, for she has felt her
wings
pass through all distance and fear in the course
of her wanderings.
The doves that remained at home, never
exposed to lo ss,
innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness;
only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied:
free,
through all it has given up, to rejoice in its
mastery.
Being arches
itself over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that
we dared, that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn’t it fill
our hands differently with its return:
heavier by the
weight of where it has been.[ii]
The empty spaces in our Easter story call us to “pass through all distance and fear” so that we might truly live, that we might dare to throw ourselves into “infinite space” and to return heavier, more full, upon our return. The promise is that we will meet Jesus along the way and be filled with ever more love, strength, grace. But, it can be a fearful thing, to step out of what feels safe—to venture out of the dovecote. It can be a fearful thing to set aside our cynicism and sophistication and to enter into wonder and mystery. It can be a fearful thing to let go of our need to control and prove everything and instead to surrender to beauty and grace. It can be a fearful thing to hope. After all, the less we hope for, the less we have to lose, right? Oh no. That is Death talking. Not gentle death who was understood as a friend and companion by the desert Ammas and Abbas, the death who was known to be a passage into life in God. No, the Death who tempts us to fear and to lose hope has nothing to do with God. And that Death tries to convince us of all sorts of ridiculous things: that you have to be blasé about the whole Easter thing, to hide behind cynicism and refuse to do anything that might make you appear foolish. Death wants you to take cover in the safety of rules and comfort and familiarity and never “venture out.” Death has been working overtime to convince people that it is categorically impossible to be socially progressive AND to believe that Jesus rose from the dead. Death would say you can’t call yourself Christian if you experience doubt. Death wants you to believe that your life will never be different than it is today and that the world is doomed and that bad news is all there is. Death is an agent of evil, of destruction, of soul-killing, hope-killing, trust-mangling, mind-numbing, responsibility-squashing, wonder-stifling ruin. Death doesn’t want you to live, to thrive, to survive. And Death has a way of trying to keep showing up like an abusive partner who just won’t let go. Just think about how negativity, fear, cynicism, control, bitterness, hatred, selfishness and other deathly things can be so hard to shake. But on this day of days we are empowered to kick Death to the curb. Call on the power of the risen Christ and tell Death to go back to hell where it belongs. As I was writing these words, a song came on the radio that I’d never thought of as an Easter song. But it is a classic “kicked to the curb” anthem. And I found myself singing these words to Death:
At first I was afraid I was petrified
Thinking I could never live without you by my side
And I've been spending oh so many nights
Thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along
[And now you're back
From outer space
And I find you here with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I've known for a second you'd be back to bother me]
Go on now, go walk out the door
Turn around now
You're not welcome anymore
Aren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
Do you think I'd crumble
Did you think I'd lay down and die?
Oh no, not I, I will survive
Long as I know how to love
I know I'll stay alive
I've got all my life to live
And all my love to give and I'll survive
I will survive.[iii]
Death doesn’t want you to hope, to live, to survive. But God knows how to run a resurrection after all. And as long as you know how to love you will stay alive. You’ve got all your wild and precious life to live. And all your love to give. Oh you will do more than survive. This story is not over. The game is still on. And the risen Christ brings hope and life and strength and resurrection power to you and to me. And the credits won’t roll until ALL God’s beloved world is healed, reconciled, restored and at peace. In the meantime, let’s sing and dance and…LIVE…in this world and into the next.
[i] Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Anchor Books, 1999, p. 119.
[ii] Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Dove that ventured outside,” Ahead of All Parting: The Select Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Stephen Mitchell, New York: Random House, 1995.
[iii] “I Will Survive,” Performed by Gloria Gaynor, Songwriters, Dino Fekaris & Frederick J. Perren, Published by Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group. Accessed 4/4/15 at http://www.metrolyrics.com/i-will-survive-lyrics-gloria-gaynor.html
Friday Apr 03, 2015
Friday Apr 03, 2015
Not Responding
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC April 3, 2015, Good Friday.
Text: Mark 15:33-39
----------------Silence---------------------------
Into silence, the uncomfortable silence, the panicked silence, the despairing silence—in the space of nothingness, the emptiness, the shifting and shuffling and tittering and jeering all around only raising our anxiety and growing despair—into silence we want a word.
At the bedside of a dying mother, son, sister, father, daughter, brother, partner, spouse…in our anguish we cry out to God—we want a word.
In the face of cancer, abuse, AIDS, addiction—as we watch bodies break and bleed and drain of life—we cry out to God…we want a word.
When we find ourselves shrouded by the darkness of depression, having lost even the will to live, when we wake each and every day to chronic pain, when we feel deep in our bones our own helplessness and hopelessness about our lives or the lives of our loved ones or about the life of the world…we cry out to God—we want a word.
What word do we want? Maybe we want the magic word, the healing word, the word that will reverse or erase what has happened or what is happening. Maybe we want the word of comfort—“There, there…everything will be alright.”…Maybe we want any word—any sign—that we are not alone, that we are not abandoned.
And yet, so often, no word comes. The only message we receive: “Not Responding.” What we need is not appearing… In that space of suffering and helplessness, our prayers and cries to God are met with silence. No word comes. And the silence feels so deep, so dark, so final, that the absence seems to swallow us whole. In that moment when our “mouth is dried up… and [our] tongue sticks to [our] jaws” (Ps. 22:15)… Do we still cry out to God? What do we say then?
“In a hospital somewhere an older deacon went to visit a dying woman for whom the doctors could do nothing more, and squeezing her hand he saw her starting to say something. Too feeble to speak it out but with great effort she moved her lips and he, in order to make it easier for her, leaned over to get his ear above her mouth. And he felt her breathe upon his cheek the words, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…’ And then she stopped. But the deacon gave words to her emotion and continued aloud what he knew she was unable to speak, ‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters…’ And on to the end when upon finishing he knew she had breathed her last.”
As Jesus hung on the cross, betrayed, denied, abandoned—his body broken and bleeding—he cries out to God…and for the first time in his life, his cry is met with silence, with absence, with nothing. What does he say then?
Some who stood there at the foot of the cross thought he cried for help from Elijah. But the words that Jesus spoke were not his own…they were the words of the Psalmist—Psalm 22 as we number them. With his dying breath, he called upon these words of lament and, if we were to place our ear near his mouth and speak the words he never got to finish, we would find ourselves saying:
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.
Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them.
To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not put to shame…
All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord;
And all the families of the nations shall worship before him.
For dominion belongs to the Lord, and he rules over the nations.
To him indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down;
before him shall bow all who go down to the dust, and I shall live for him.
Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord,
And proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn, saying that he has done it.
(Psalm 22: 2-5, 27-31)
In the midst of ultimate suffering and pain, in the midst of abandonment and silence, Jesus begins to recite this Psalm. And so when we realize the fullness of what Jesus spoke there on the cross, we hear him, not crying out in a despair that has turned away or given up on God. Rather we hear the plaintive notes of a love song…Even in this moment of forsakenness, Jesus continues to love God. Even in the midst of the silence, the abandonment—in that space of sin where God cannot dwell—Jesus still loves, still believes, still knows that God is his God. Eli, Eli he cries…My God, My God… In Jesus’ affliction, God was silent, absent. There was in that moment no one there to love. What had been infinite love is replaced in this moment with infinite distance. And yet…and yet…
“What is terrible is that if, in this darkness where there is nothing to love, the soul ceases to love, God’s absence becomes final. The soul has to go on loving in the emptiness, or at least to go on wanting to love, though it may only be with an infinitesimal part of itself…”[1] On the cross, Jesus goes on loving in the emptiness and, through that miraculous love, spans the infinite distance between the nothingness of sin and suffering to touch again—or at least reach out to touch—the Love that in faith he believes will be there…if not now, then.
In the darkness, in the silence, in the forsakenness that we will all experience in our lives, we too can speak the words…can sing the love song of the cross. It is precisely here that we can share most fully in the divine life. It is here that we have the opportunity for faith to become real…Paul says, “Faith is the evidence of things not seen.” (Heb. 11:1)—I would add that faith is also the evidence of things not heard…When there is no word, only silence, faith hears, faith sees…Fueled by love—or at least the yearning to love—faith will glimpse, will imagine a voice, the voice of Love… Faith sees and hears what is seemingly absent, what is not seen or heard, what is invisible.
In the silence, in our suffering, in our despair, what will we say? Jesus—even in the moment of affliction and forsakenness said, “love.” Surely, this was God’s Son.