Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

Who Is My Family? - June 6th, 2021

Who Is My Family?

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC June 6, 2021, second Sunday after Pentecost. “The Call: Good Trouble” series.

Text: Mark 3:20-35

Jesus was a master at getting into “good trouble.” In Mark’s account the rumblings begin that time four people dug through the roof to lower their friend into Jesus’ healing presence. And Jesus simply does what Jesus does, he releases the friend from paralyzing guilt, with words of forgiveness and affirmation of the man’s agency to rise and be free. (Mk 2:1-12)  There were some scribes there that day who were concerned about all this, evidently because it challenged their understanding of God and of what kinds of healing activity humans can do. The case against Jesus continues to build when he is caught eating with sinners and tax collectors—those deemed hostile and unruly in matters of religion and national loyalty. (Mk 2:15-16) The questions and tests keep coming and Jesus is tracked and watched as if he’s a criminal—folks just wait to catch him in a scenario they could use to accuse him. (Mk 3:2)

But Jesus’ words and actions continue to draw crowds—as we hear at the beginning of our text today, so many people to engage there’s no time to eat! //

Jesus was just being himself. Jesus was just doing what he was created and called to do. His identity and his power stirred up controversy and trouble. 

And it wasn’t just the religious folk who had concerns. We hear at the beginning that Jesus’ “family” comes to “restrain” Jesus. And a brief textual note here: verse 21 is a very ambiguous phrase in the original Greek. Some translations refer not to “family” but to Jesus’ “friends,” or “kinsmen,” or “his own people”(tribe? region? nation?) At the end of our text (3:31-35), the language is very clear that Jesus’ mother and siblings arrive—his blood family. All this to say, it is not unreasonable to suggest that Jesus was stirring things up in his immediate family, in his broader community of friends and “tribe” AND in the religious community.

And what we see happening in our passage for today is a familiar tactic of response from the human playbook across time when someone is causing good trouble: slander the person and gaslight the people, appealing to their religious and moral scruples, using archetypes that trigger fear. And this is often to distance ourselves from or undermine the acceptance of people we don’t understand, who threaten our sense of what is right, of what’s familiar, or who we fear will take something away from us. 

The initial verses of our passage might reflect Jesus’ friends and hometown community being concerned about his well-being in the midst of crowds, taking on so much, thinking he can do something about all that suffering, and being identified as a threat to the powers that be in the process. Or they might have been embarrassed by the chatter about Jesus on whatever functioned as social media at the time. Regardless, the text is clear that whoever these people are, they come to “restrain” Jesus, believing he is “out of his mind.”

The scribes pile on with the claim that Jesus is possessed, that he “has” Beelzebul, is filled with evil, and his actions are driven by the evil one. Jesus is literally “demonized” by those speaking for religion.

Jesus’ response to this is to simply point out the absurdly illogical nature of the scribes’ assertion. Why would Satan destroy Satan? And then we get to three verses that have puzzled people for centuries. What is all this business about blaspheming against the Holy Spirit and eternal sin?

I found it helpful to look at the Greek word translated blasphemy—βλασφημία blasphémia—which means speaking ill of that which is good, failing to acknowledge what is truly good, defaming, reviling, slandering... Another way the word is described is as calling good evil and evil good.

Jesus is clear in verse 28 that people will be forgiven their sin and blasphemies. Then in verse 29 things get confusing. In the Greek, verse 29 does NOT include the word “never” (οὐδέποτε; oudepote). The line says whoever “shall blaspheme”—which might be understood as “when” you blaspheme—there is “not” forgiveness. Jesus isn’t mincing words here, to be sure. But the issue is less about damning people to a state of “eternal sin” and more about calling people to stop doing the thing that will always disconnect us from God and others, namely, to reject, ignore, or deny the good gifts of Holy Spirit at work in others and in the world around us. Stop trying to tell people that something is good when it’s clearly harmful and that something is dangerous when it is clearly life-giving. When and as long as you continue in this behavior, you leave yourself in a state of disconnection, hamartia (ἁμαρτία), you are missing the mark, you are sinning. And this kind of sin has eternal consequences.

Jesus was accused of having “an unclean spirit.” (v. 30) And Jesus simply points out this is not true. Such an accusation is blasphemy, calling evil that which is good. Jesus isn’t filled with an unclean spirit but with Holy Spirit. The acts of compassion, mercy, and healing that are drawing crowds are not fueled by evil intent or devils but by love and justice. Jesus won’t let others define who he is or call evil or unclean what is beautiful and powerful in him.

On this first Sunday of LGBTQ Pride month, this is a beautiful thing to remember. All of us are made in the image of God and Jesus reveals to us what it looks like to bear that image fully in this world. Part of following Jesus is to emulate the one who refused to be defined by others’ attacks and misunderstanding, but rather claimed his identity and his power and offered both to the world in love. Today, again we proclaim without equivocation that LGBTQ people are beautiful and beloved of God—no matter what slanderous, blasphemous things people or church or family members have said. To call a clearly fabulous, loving, powerful, smart, creative, faithful person who happens to be LGBT or Q “evil” is pretty stunning. It is also unnecessary, damaging, and blasphemy. It is calling good, evil. As long as this blasphemy is allowed, as long as it continues, sin is propagated.

For ages, people have used that old playbook though—against all sorts of people. We’ve long been trained to think of some people as “bad,” as outsiders, and as certainly NOT part of the family. Sometimes this is overt training, other times it’s learned through the way society is organized.

Many of you will know that I grew up in very small town Oklahoma. My town, Kiefer, is located 20 miles southwest of Tulsa. I moved back to Tulsa after seminary and served on staff of a UMC for a couple of years before moving to DC in 1998. Over the past weeks, I’ve been newly grieved and angered at my experience of growing up in a place where the worst act of racist violence in our nation’s history occurred and not being taught anything about it. In case you don’t know, last weekend was the 100 year anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre, when the thriving, affluent African American community in the Greenwood District—also known as “Black Wall Street”—was attacked and looted by a white mob, its citizens assaulted, countless persons killed, and buildings burned to the ground. Lives, livelihoods, and legacies were destroyed in a matter of hours. “In the wake of the violence, 35 city blocks lay in charred ruins, more than 800 people were treated for injuries and contemporary reports of deaths began at 36. Historians now believe as many as 300 people may have died.” 

I remember once, as my mother and I were driving along I-44 through the city, she told me that the area adjacent to where we were driving burned down—a whole section of the city. I think she told me that African Americans lived there. But maybe I’ve added that part. To be clear, I don’t blame my mother. I watched the PBS documentary Tulsa: The Fire and the Forgotten (shout out to Foundry’s own Michel Martin for her narration of the film) and was struck to learn that some Black residents of the area only learned of the atrocity years later when, in 2001, a Oklahoma state commission issued the first, comprehensive official account of what happened.

This is confirmation of the depth and breadth of the intentional cover up, the gaslighting, the erasure from memory of an experience of such magnitude through fear and control and the power of the pen and the pulpit. No one was ever charged with any crime. And, as often happens, it was the residents of Greenwood who were blamed for inciting the “riot.” As the Rev. Floyd Brown, an African American pastor in Oklahoma who himself didn’t learn of the massacre until 20 years ago said, “I think the ingrained despair caused people not really to discuss what took place…and the hurt that they felt in the aftermath.”

This is certainly not the first time I’ve pondered and lamented the radical racial segregation and silence about race in the place in which I was formed and the ways that has affected and infected my perception of reality. Certainly, there are good and beautiful things about my home and upbringing. But I was kept from knowing. Growing up in a culture that pretends something didn’t happen when it did or is silent about violence inflicted or lies about what is real and keeps whole groups of people separated from one another so that some don’t even know the others exist nearby and—like everywhere—allows casual racist references and images and slurs to appear in the regular cadence of sight and sound—all that, along with the racial tensions reverberating through the atmosphere in the Tulsa area, under the surface, like a mass grave…all that has to do something to people. Over 100, 1000, 10,000 years or to eternity, as long as this kind of thing is allowed, as long as it continues, sin is propagated, maybe even something we could call eternal sin…it is soaked up into the minds, hearts, and spirits of unsuspecting people like a virus. And the way is always open for another massacre. 

For all of us (and it is all of us in one way or another) who have been taught in various ways, consciously or not, to separate, to slander, to ignore, to deny, or demonize any person or group of people—the good news is that we can wake up and work to live and love differently by the grace and power of Holy Spirit. 

In the final frame of our Gospel passage today, Jesus’ mother, brothers, and sisters come calling for him. When he hears they’re present, he doesn’t renounce or rebuke them in any way. Jesus was speaking in parables, teaching, when the fam arrived and, as I read the text, Jesus continues teaching, using the moment as an opportunity to bring his point home. The point is about family—about what connects us, not what divides. 

Those who slander Jesus and whisper lies and accusations against him sow division—likely because of religious loyalty and gatekeeping or because of tribal or national loyalty or gatekeeping or because of discomfort, fear, or jealousy. But here’s the thing: Jesus is not out of his mind—he is in God’s mind, has God’s mind, has God in mind. Jesus is not filled with demonic spirits—but with Holy Spirit. And people through the ages may try to undermine Jesus’ mission of saving love, forgiveness of sins, and reconciliation, and liberation, but he’s not having it. Jesus came to dismantle the tribal and religious boundaries that could ever name a beloved child of God as 3/5ths a person or as abomination or as unworthy of God’s love and grace. Jesus came to tear down the walls of division, to break the silence of injustice, and to usher in a whole new creation. Jesus created a new, always open border when he said, “My family is anyone who seeks to live and love in the wisdom and way of God.” (v.35)

By God’s grace, we receive this good news and the call to follow Jesus. If we do, there’s a good chance we will find ourselves in (good) trouble. But that trouble is for a purpose—to live in and work for the freedom of the Kin-dom of God. And when, as a result, people challenge you, “unfriend” you on FaceBook, treat you like you are ridiculous, naïve, uninformed, or downright sinful for where you stand or for who you are, remember that you are in good company. Jesus has been there, done that. And because Jesus has shown us the way, we rejoice in the truth that we are ourselves beloved children of God, siblings in the Beloved Clan, not only given a place at the family table, but honored as participants in the work of widening the circle, in making more and more room eternally, until humankind from every race, gender identity, culture, orientation, ethnicity, ability, and creed can sing and mean it: WE ARE FAMILY!

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Send Me? - May 20th, 2021

Send Me?

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC May 30, 2021, Trinity Sunday. “The Call: Good Trouble” series.

Text: Isaiah 6:1-8

The late U.S. Congressman and civil rights icon John Lewis often told the story of asking his parents and other elders about the racist signs he witnessed all around. He said, “They would say, ‘boy, that’s the way it is. Don't get in the way and don’t get in trouble.’ But when I was 15 years old, in 1955, I heard of Rosa Parks. I heard the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. on the radio. The action of Rosa Parks and the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. inspired me to find a way to get in the way. And I got in the way. And I got in trouble, ‘good trouble.’”  He repeated these words often and they have become a kind of call to all people of faith and conscience in America. Again and again he urged, “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble.” Over the next weeks, we’ll explore scripture with an eye toward God’s call in our lives as individuals and as a congregation—and how we, as followers of Jesus, are called to get in some good trouble in order to love God, love each other, and change the world. I hope you’ll use this time to reflect on what God may be saying to YOU and to listen for particular invitations or challenges each week. We begin today with a message about call in the midst of crisis. //

Let us pray… God of justice and of new life, open our hearts and the ancient text of scripture by the power of Holy Spirit that we might receive what you have for us today. Amen.

I’ve recently started watching the television show “The Walking Dead.” On the surface, it’s a story of a zombie apocalypse. But more than that, so far as I can tell from the 7 episodes I’ve seen so far, it’s a story of human relationship, ethics, and the gifts and challenges of life in community. It’s also an opportunity to explore the different ways people react and respond in the midst of crisis. We, of course, don’t anticipate a zombie apocalypse anytime soon, but I have found that as a person who’s interested in human behavior, community dynamics, and spiritual and personal growth, watching the show has led me the question I often ask when confronted with a challenging human scenario: “What would I be like if that happened to me?

The truth is, we have been in a multi-layered crisis over the past year and a half, a multi-phased crisis, a crisis that’s spun out and highlighted multiple other crises. And some of us are experiencing personal or interpersonal crises of various kinds. What are you like in the midst of crisis? What are we as a congregation like? What do we do? How do you respond?

Theologian and spiritual teacher, Elisabeth Koenig writes, “The anxiety-ridden energy of a crisis contains potential for change. Confronted squarely and reflectively in the presence of God, the energy of crisis can expand our sense of who we are.” 

Crisis and the anxiety that rides in on it may not be things we want to welcome into our lives or spend energy on. But there are moments in our lives as persons and communities—like right now—when we cannot avoid crisis, when we can’t pretend that everything’s “fine.” In these moments, the question becomes, who and how will you be in that space? 

I imagine I don’t need to outline all the ways that crisis and anxiety can lead to defensiveness, blaming, confusion, reactivity, distorted perception, paranoia, breakdowns in communication and thoughtful engagement with others, and personal panic and inertia. Dissociation from self and disconnection from others often happens. Fight, flight, and freeze are common. All of this can lead to pretty unpleasant things.

Spiritual wisdom from many traditions—and certainly Christian wisdom—encourages us to resist the urge to run away; we’re encouraged to be aware of what’s happening around us and what comes up in us; to observe and to try to name as best we can what’s going on; to breathe, to pray, to bring all of our feelings, reactions, anxiety, fear, anger, questions—into the presence of God and to ask God to help us learn from them. The invitation is to hold the crisis in the larger perspective of the story of God’s liberating love and mending activity in the world, to remember that this moment is not all there is. And to intentionally remain open to what God will reveal to us about ourselves, others, or the realities and world around us. Crisis can be profoundly clarifying. 

Isaiah found himself in a crisis moment: King Uzziah has died after reigning for 52 years and, even though during that time the people of Judah rebelled against God (Is 1:2ff) in all the familiar ways—injustice, greed, hypocrisy, lies, arrogance, and power grabs (Is 1, 5)—things had been relatively stable. King Uzziah had managed to hold the nation together.

But now things feel unmoored, uncertain. The injustice that has been allowed to linger and flourish in the nation has left the people and the country vulnerable to all sorts of destruction from within and from without. 

And in the year that King Uzziah died—around 738 BCE—in the midst of the national crisis and with anxieties rolling down like an everflowing stream, Isaiah had a vision of God. The hem of the divine garment—just the hem!—filled the entire temple. And seraphs—strange six-winged beings who hid their faces and their feet as they flew—called out to one another proclaiming that the whole earth is filled with God’s glory (no wonder the hem is all that’s visible in the temple!). Things become shaky and filled with smoke.

It’s a beautiful, terrifying divine encounter in the midst of a crisis. And Isaiah could have shut down or allowed fear to send him running. But he stays present. He identifies and names what comes up in him. He feels lost—perhaps uncertain of whether he will survive this moment—for he is aware of both the sin of the nation and his own sin. He acknowledges that God is present in the mix of it all—that he has “seen” God, a thing that has meant death for others in the lore of Jewish religious history. Just then, Isaiah is touched with the purifying fire of God’s mercy. His sin and guilt are “blotted out.” God has not destroyed Isaiah in this moment. God has cleansed him, liberated him.

Hear again the words I shared at the beginning: “The anxiety-ridden energy of a crisis contains potential for change. Confronted squarely and reflectively in the presence of God, the energy of crisis can expand our sense of who we are.”

In this anxiety-ridden moment of crisis in Judah, in the midst of the extraordinary encounter with God, Isaiah discovers that he is strong enough to stay present in the midst of fear, uncertainty, and guilt; he learns that he is forgiven, that he is free, and that he is called. When he overhears God asking the question “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Isaiah says, “Here I am, send me!”

If you read on in chapter 6 of Isaiah, you will see that after Isaiah has volunteered himself, he learns that the work he is called to is impossible. The people, he is told WILL NOT LISTEN TO HIM. It’s a kind of “things will get much worse before they get better” kind of calling. And the getting better part isn’t really assured.

This reality might have led Isaiah to turn tail and run! But he doesn’t. He simply makes himself available and present to God—even as he aware of his vulnerability and sin. And as the scriptures reveal, Isaiah just kept reminding people of God’s love, God’s way of justice, God’s faithfulness, God’s promises, God’s desire for relationship—even when they couldn’t or wouldn’t receive the message or respond.

Not many of us would rush in to volunteer for a job where there’s a high probability that we won’t see the results we desire or when we know that people will likely reject us or our message or whatever it is we’re offering. But, as Rev. Dr. King said, “The time is always right to do what is right.” Which is to say, a divine calling may very well mean doing what is called for in the moment simply because it is right not because it will have immediate positive effects.

John Lewis wrote, “Take a long, hard look down the road you will have to travel once you have made a commitment to work for change. Know that this transformation will not happen right away. Change often takes time. It rarely happens all at once. In the movement, we didn't know how history would play itself out. When we were getting arrested and waiting in jail or standing in unmovable lines on the courthouse steps, we didn’t know what would happen, but we knew it had to happen… We used to say that ours is not the struggle of one day, one week, or one year…Ours is the struggle of a lifetime, or maybe even many lifetimes, and each one of us in every generation must do our part.” 

The call for some of us may not be to agitate for justice in the public square like King and Lewis but to do what is right in much less visible ways. I just had a conversation with one of my clergy colleagues who shared that the double digit years she’s investing in her congregation are primarily spent in ways that most people will never see or even understand…the deep work that happens under and behind the scenes to bring healing, raise consciousness, and adjust systems into more just and faithful shapes. Deep culture change in community—as well as deep personal change in our lives—is often about the work that happens day in and out that others may know nothing about but that ultimately creates openings for liberation and new life. And often—in community—the new life may emerge once we’re gone and without anyone knowing we played any part in its flourishing.

Whether public and with high visibility or behind the scenes and known only to a few, we may be called to do things that scare us or that we believe are beyond our capacity. We may be asked to step up and move forward in a relationship, a vocation, a ministry, a leadership role, when the way is terrifyingly shaky and unclear—like a shaking structure filled with smoke. In my own life, I have found that what I heard Rev. Dr. Ianther Mills preach at Asbury the Sunday before I started my ministry here at Foundry is true: “What God brings you to, God brings you through.” All our fears and guilt and insecurity and worry about failure are no match for the grace and power of God working in and through us if we are willing, like Isaiah, to stay present and discern what God is revealing in our lives and community.

Crises of any kind will evoke lots of challenging feelings and reactions. Rather than rejecting them, can we confront them “squarely and reflectively in the presence of God” and be willing to discern how God is calling us, revealing to us more of who we are, and beckoning us into deeper faith, hope, and love? Maybe you’ve already heard or are hearing God calling you in the midst of crisis to affect some kind of change in your life or in your work or in your relationship or in the larger society. Will you, like Isaiah, be willing to respond, “Send Me!”?

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#SayHisName - May 23rd, 2021

#SayHisName

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, May 23, 2021, Pentecost Sunday. 

Texts: Acts 2:1-21, John 15:26-27

First there was that time when Spirit moved across the face of the deep at the beginning of all things; Spirit blew as wind, as breath, ruach, and creation came into being.

Then there was the way Spirit rested upon Moses and Joshua giving strength and guidance to lead from slavery to freedom.

Prophets down through the ages were filled with Spirit as they called people back to God’s way of love and justice.

Ezekiel prophesied Spirit breathing new life into dry bones of a broken community. (Ez 37.1-14) 

Joel prophesies of a time—after a great suffering, a time of turning, of restoration and new hope—a time when Spirit will be poured out upon all flesh—women and men, young and old, people of every social status and caste. (Joel 2.28-29)

John the Baptizer prophesied that the One who was coming would baptize with Holy Spirit and fire.

Spirit descended like a dove at Jesus’ Baptism and naming as beloved, that moment when Jesus crossed the threshold into a new life of public witness and ministry, filled with Spirit. 

And in Jesus’ first recorded sermon, he took up the text from Isaiah that read, 

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    because he has anointed me
        to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
    and recovery of sight to the blind,
        to let the oppressed go free,
 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Lk 4:18-19)

Before Jesus died, he told his disciples that “the Advocate, the Holy Spirit…will teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you…the Advocate will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify…” (Jn 14:26, 15:26-27) Before Jesus left the earth for the second time (we heard that story last week), he told his followers to stay in Jerusalem and to wait for the promise: baptism with Holy Spirit.

And then the day of Pentecost arrives, a Jewish day of festival celebrating God’s provision in the harvest and on that same day, we are told, the time is full, the heavens can no longer hold the weight of the power that wants to flow forth, and Spirit breaks through like a rushing wind and rain—pouring down upon those who had stayed together, waiting and watching and trusting that the promise would come. And Spirit’s power flowed, filling every single one, including all, excluding none. Spirit power flowed in all the ways She eternally does, inspiring bold leadership and liberation from injustice, fear, and division, giving guidance and prophetic speech to those who feel uncertain and unequipped, filling dry bones with life and recreating the body of broken community. In the wake of this revolution of grace, the people are soaked in a baptism of Belovedness, on fire with the life and love they are given, and newly anointed for ministry as none other than the body of Christ!

 

This moment is a significant turning point in the story of our God’s activity in the world. Obviously, the day of Pentecost is NOT the entry point for Holy Spirit into the story! But in this moment, God is doing a new thing. Spirit is, once again, inspiring a new creation, what we often call the “birth of the church.” 

 

Recently, I had an email appear in my inbox with the heading, “After 2020 every church is a new church.” And on this Pentecost Sunday, I’m laser focused on what it means for the church not just to celebrate a birthday but to experience a fresh pentecost—to be a new church. Don’t panic! I’m not saying that Foundry won’t be Foundry. After 2020 every church is assessing the shape and mode of congregational life after quarantine. But, beyond and deeper even than that, it is so clear we need renewal—in the United Methodist Church, the Church universal, and in our own congregation. We know there are things to be addressed, injustice and divisions and demonization and encrusted systemic racism, misogyny, homophobia, and every other “ism” that we humans have perfected. And the world is in a crucible moment, a moment of birth pangs. There is a push for newness, for change, for justice, for equity, for peace and friendship and healing and collaboration and common sense—both within and outside the church. And there is pushback and backlash to what is trying to be born. We need Spirit power to give us fresh energy and insight, creative vision, and new courage for such a time as this. As we stand in the midst of the crucible fire and the winds of change, on the brink of re-engaging in both familiar and new ways of gathering as a congregation, what does it mean for us to experience new life as the church?

 

Over the past years, a common hashtag on social media is #SayHerName or #SayHisName. This is a call to remember and to lift the names of persons who have been killed by acts of racist violence. It is a rallying cry to not let their lives be forgotten or their deaths be in vain. Saying the names of those who’ve been killed is a way to rouse energy and stay clear about the work to be done for justice and creation of beloved community. And as I think about where we are in this moment, I hear myself saying “Say his name!” The name I’m talking about is Jesus. 

A couple of years ago, I gave a lecture at Drew Theological School and another presenter was Rev. Dr. Otis Moss, III who brought to my attention the Barna studies which show broad appreciation for Jesus. I was struck by the ways the studies show a majority of people have positive feelings and thoughts about Jesus. Though something I’ve found in many so-called liberal churches is that people don’t want to talk about Jesus—Christ maybe, but not Jesus. For some it’s because they associate the name with forms of church they want nothing to do with. For others, Jesus is too specific; people might feel excluded. I appreciate that these perspectives may come from a lovely sensitivity to friends of other faiths or grow out of centuries of bad Christology. But mercy, we throw Jesus out (the one folks respect and are drawn to) and then wonder why all our brilliant fancy programs and plans and organizational models aren’t bringing growth and transformation. I’m not saying the name is a magic word, but the scandal of particularity that is Jesus, the cross of Jesus, the resurrection of Jesus, the in-a-real-incarnate-bodiness of Jesus, the love of God embodied in Jesus, the justice of Jesus—that gives us our most practical and concrete example of what our lives and our life together can be when we open ourselves to be Spirit-infused and born anew. The name of Jesus is our rallying cry, the life, teachings, death, and resurrection, are what keep us clear about the work we are called to do and who we are called to be.

 

We are called and created by the power of Spirit to be the Body of Christ, by the grace of God and in the name and Way of Jesus, to offer a vision for life and life together that sets people free and sets hearts on fire with compassion and courage and a willingness to sacrifice things, face hard truths, and even suffer for the good of another. We are called by the grace of God to break into the chaos of this moment with a grounding word of identity and connection, into the stress and strain and striving with a word and way of peace. We are called to remind people that the worst thing is never the last thing, to stand up to the dehumanizing “isms” in ourselves and others with the truth that will finally set us all free; we are called right into the center of the demonizing fray to proclaim that all human life has dignity and sacred worth because all are children of God. 

 

I’m not suggesting that the church is the only community called to engage in such a way or that the church has all of this sorted. Lord knows we’re so often a part of the problem—agents of empire rather than of Spirit-fueled justice and mending. But we as the church have a particular call and it’s important and it’s needed. I’m suggesting that to be new really means to remember what’s been our call from the beginning, to #SayHisName, to testify to the way of life we are given in and through Jesus by the power of Holy Spirit, to cultivate a community of faith that’s at least trying to be humble and wise and sacrificial and just—a community that creates space for persons to become more human and less reptilian, to become more like Jesus. 

My dear colleague Melissa Maher serves a community in Houston, Texas called “Mercy Street.” The community is diverse in many ways including a large population of folks in recovery from addiction. She says, “We call ourselves Hope Dealers. Former dope dealers… now connecting to the Hope Supplier.” Mercy Street’s self-understanding includes things like “we are all works in progress,” “this is a messy community where we will sometimes disappoint one another,” “we don’t run from community, instead we lean-in and trust that giving ourselves towards love in Christ really can make a difference in our lives and our relationships.” I want to be part of a “Hope Dealer” church. 

Some folk may never be part of such Christian communions, having their own deep and beautiful spiritual paths and practices or bearing too many scars from experiencing perversions of the Christian story. But even for those who will never actively participate, simply knowing that such communions exist is a powerful witness, a testimony that there is a God in the world who still cares and can accomplish miracles after all. Because as I once heard someone say, a miracle isn’t when God does what we want, but when we do what God wants! So let this day be a fresh Pentecost for us. Let’s claim and gather around the simple gifts of our faith; let’s speak, live, act, give, and pray in the name of Jesus, and by the power of Spirit, experience a miracle. Even new life. May it be so!

https://foundryumc.org/

Spirit…Power - May 17th, 2021

Spirit…Power

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, May 16, 2021, Ascension Sunday. “Give Me a Word” series.

    Text: Acts 1:1-11

It’s a time of transition. Things have been painful—lots of injustice, death, grief, confusion, and fear. And then hope appears—concrete reason for hope appears!

That’s our story! It’s our story right now as we turn the corner from this past 14 months of multiple pandemics and begin to receive information allowing us to begin mobilizing activities that have been off-limits for so long. It’s also the story we receive today in scripture. 

The followers of Jesus have been through it! They experienced so many highs and lows on the journey with Jesus. They watched as he was humiliated and killed. They thought he was going to be the one to sit on the throne of David in Jerusalem, to fulfill a promise to restore Israel’s political power—to free the people from colonial, imperial subjugation. And those hopes seemed to die along with Jesus who’d inspired, taught, encouraged, empowered and mobilized a whole movement. But then, hope reappears! Jesus is back, resurrected, and, as it says in Acts 1:3, presents himself alive and speaks about the kindom of God for 40 days. 

Notice that even after all this has transpired, the people were still singularly focused on what they’d always been focused on: “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Another way to say it—are you going to finally give us back what we lost, the old way of being? They were looking back and looking only at their own tribe, their own people. They seem to have missed Jesus’ consistent focus not on the restored kingdom of Israel but rather the vision and practice of the Kindom of God. Jesus doesn’t give them much of an answer to their specific question, but instead gives them this word: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Short hand for this: You your call is to be a witness to EVERYBODY, whether or not you like them, trust them, or even know them.

Now, if I’d been in that group, I would have had lots of questions. // And I would have been out of luck. Because just then, a fog, a cloud rolls in (the presence of God often shows up in clouds) and Jesus is lifted out of their sight. He’s gone. Again. And there are no clear answers. Just Jesus’s direction to wait on Holy Spirit. Just wait for the promise: Spirit…power…

The disciples’ hope gets interrupted by the unforeseen complication of Jesus’ leaving and the aggravating reality that things are NOT going be as they were in the past, that the future is yet uncertain, and that they—Jesus’ followers—are gonna have to figure out what to do on the other side of waiting.

No wonder they didn’t know where to focus. No wonder they needed to be reminded by the mystery men in white to come back down to earth. Because all that stuff is difficult to deal with. And, wow, does it feel resonant with where we are as a congregation and people of faith in this moment. 

First of all, we’re tired. We’ve been through a lot—some of us more than others, but all of us have been through it. Our emotional, physical, and spiritual reservoirs are low. Patience is likely thin. Many of us are languishing. Some of us are depressed or experiencing high anxiety. Many are grieving losses of family and friends due to COVID or other causes—most of whom we’ve been unable to memorialize and celebrate in traditional ways. We’re faced with a politicized public health crisis that has complicated our ability to trust official communications. And I could go on and on with the varieties of experiences that contribute to the challenging state of our collective mental and emotional health in this present moment. 

And now: HOPE!  We are hearing that masks can come off if we’re vaccinated and religious communities can gather without restrictions on numbers and on it goes. 

It is absolutely understandable that many of us are singularly focused on getting back to church, getting back to the old, familiar ways of gathering, and worshipping. What’s to stop us? 

I realized this past week that the shift in message and guidance feels a bit like whiplash—from high alert and multiple safety protocols, to no holds barred. I will admit that, as a leader, it is pretty disorienting. I’ve been trying to stay grounded in the values that have guided us so well through the pandemic—prioritizing health and safety, following the science, and discerning what it means in each phase of the pandemic to love God and neighbor.

To that last point, here are several things for us to keep in mind. We know that there are some who’ve been vaccinated for months while others have yet to be able to get vaccinated. And, as will be true in any human community, there are a variety of levels of risk tolerance or aversion among us. Some folk are finding it very anxiety producing to re-engage after the relative quiet and stillness of the past year, others were ready to fling themselves into the crowded human spaces months ago. All this to say, it’s important to remember that how we are feeling or needing is not necessarily how others are feeling or needing. 

Another thing to consider is that some things will be different as we return to in-person worship. And much of what, exactly, will be different is still up in the air because plans are not yet finalized around all the details. Believe it or not, there are so many details to consider, discern, and plan for.

And, since we have valued keeping everyone protected, our staff, committee chairs, outside contractors, and the like have not been in the building except in highly limited ways and only to assure that our beloved spaces were OK over the better part of the year. So at this point, there are some repairs and systems that need care prior to our full return—both for safety and to support a robust hybrid—that is, in-person and digital, Foundry community.

It may be difficult for some of us to imagine—because it’s not readily perceived— just how critically important and significant the call is to set some new priorities that celebrate and connect with our growing digital community whose presence blesses our worship and ministry from places all over the country and world. 

Just as with the original disciples in our text, what for some may be a “hope high” gets interrupted by Jesus’ uttering the word, “wait”—and his unwillingness to look back to an old, limited vision but instead saying, “witness” beyond your well-known community. And we, like the first disciples, are confronted with the aggravating reality that things are NOT going be exactly as they were in the past, that the future is yet uncertain, and that, on the other side of waiting, we are gonna have to figure out what to do and how and when to do it. 

And all of this from a place of depletion.

Except Jesus is never one to leave us without help. The promise is that Spirit will give us power to do what we are called to do! And this is our WORD for today: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you!”

Spirit will give us power to be patient with one another.

Spirit will give us power to think beyond our own comfort or needs as we try to love our neighbor.

Spirit will give us power to confess and to forgive one another when the stress, exhaustion, and struggle leads us to miss the mark.

Spirit will give us power to be creative and careful and efficient in our re-entry plans.

Spirit will give us power to be open-minded about changes in our shared life that are required for the next season.

Spirit will give us power to pitch in to help with emerging needs as we re-engage in person.

Spirit will give us power to support one another in our various places of pain and struggle.

Spirit will give us power to be gentle with ourselves when we mess up or feel negative or afraid or unmotivated.

Spirit will give us power to witness in old and in new ways to the power of resurrection life, the power of God’s saving, new life-giving love, the power of Jesus’ embrace that draws the circle ever wider.

A wider circle, as we know full well at Foundry, doesn’t mean that we lose our place, it simply means that we get to share life with even more members of the Beloved clan. Spirit gives us power to do that! Thanks be to Jesus for the promise. Thanks be to God for this Foundry community in which—through every change and challenge—we get to do the hard, holy work of loving God, loving each other, and changing the world.

https://foundryumc.org/

Friends - May 9th, 2021

Friends May 9, 2021
Rev. Dr. Kelly Grimes
Associate Pastor and Director of Hospitality and Congregational Care

John 15:9-17
“15:9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.

15:10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love.

15:11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. 15:12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.
15:13 No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.
15:14 You are my friends if you do what I command you.

15:15 I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.

15:16 You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.

15:17 I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.” 

 

Kelly: GREETINGS FRIENDS!! On this day, I acknowledge the one who I call Mother, Susan Grimes, Daughter of Artie Mae. For those of you who are just tuning in, you’ll find links for fully engaging in our service in our Facebook and YouTube comments or on our website www.foundryumc.org. If you are in need ASL interpretation, we invite you to join us at www.foundryumc.org/asl.

"In every community, there is work to be done. In every nation, there are wounds to heal. In every heart, there is the power to do it. – Marianne Williamson
We continue in Jesus’s farewell speech to those whom he loves. Last week we talked about vines and branches connectivity and how the connectivity was god’s plan that we should move into beloved community. Jesus continues this discussion by calling on the listeners to abide and keep. “15:9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.15:10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 15:11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. Abiding is best described as staying in a place Long enough to soak it in. Jesus wants us to do just that in his love. To be covered and surrounded by it that it is our main focus. There’s an iconic picture of Muhammad Ali as he is preparing for his next boxing match. He is submerged in water and he is in a boxer’s stance. He is not fighting the water he is not attempting to tell the water what to do. He is simply abiding in the water. If you can abide in something, it stands to reason that it’s very nature is too big for any of us to control. That’s this love that God offers to us. It can be shared but it cannot be controlled by humanity. And it’s not the warm and fuzzy ideas of love but it is “agape” love. It is God’s love. It’s important that we set the tone for what does love looks like because we can treat it like it’s a vacation - only on special occasions, only at certain times, and only for a certain span of time.

The people of the Christian community near the end of the first century CE that, in addition to growing oppression by the Roman Empire, was experiencing serious conflict with the Jewish synagogue is the context in which this message is given. We cannot separate the context from the message. And so, they are political and community implications for this call to love. Some would say that politics has nothing to do with the message Jesus is offering us today. Let me remind you that the person speaking, namely Jesus, was resurrected from his political assassination based on the attempt to control oppressed people. And so how we care for those who are oppressed in 2021 is directly connected with that. How we vote, what are community state and national budgets pay for, who we exclude from receiving justice, what we teach our children about the institutions in our country and our world. Because as followers of Christ, this was a call to love is the very core of the community. Abiding in the love Jesus offers us is at the core of what will be able to community for us. 1 John 4:16b, 19, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.... We love because he first loved us.” No shade to warm and fuzzy love. Jesus is calling us to go deeper than that.

It’s the love that will make everywhere we look be through the eyes of this love we are surrounded and covered by. It is like your skin on your body – covering everything.
It sounds easy doesn’t it? The love that God gives to Jesus, Jesus gives to us. Sounds great wonderful terrific! Will take it! Thanks Jesus! Now here comes the hard part: the command that will cause us to go from just receiving to giving. The command that will cause us to have to think of others and not just ourselves. We have to love one another as Jesus loves us.

15:12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. 15:13 No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.
15:14 You are my friends if you do what I command you.
Oh good grief Jesus! We were doing great! That’s great agape love that you have received you have shared with us. And now you’re calling us to share that same love with each other? And there are no other parameters for who gets to receive that love? When you say one another, exactly who are we talking about? Now may be easy to respond, “everyone!”. Of course, Jesus means everyone. They are times when it looks easy and sometimes it’s very hard. In the question that I always propose to myself and I propose to you is, “When it’s time to live in the hardest of circumstances are we quick to erase certain people from the list of everyone?”

What, then, does it mean for us today to be Christ’s friends? Bonhoeffer states it this way: “The more genuine and the deeper our community becomes, the more will everything else between us recede, the more clearly and purely will Jesus Christ and his work become the one and only thing that is vital between us”.

15:15 I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.
15:16 You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. 15:17 I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

I have a younger brother. His name is Alan. We are nearly 10 months apart. When we were little the night before December 25 we will always charge to go to bed because our chimney would be occupied by someone who would come to do things that would make us happy on December 25. One year I heard one of my parental’s attempting to assemble something on December 24 a peek through the door and realized the true givers of the gifts. My day I was trying to put together my Barbie dream house. Upon this Epiphany, I went right to my brother and shared this new information that I had regarding this season. Some people may say, oh you spoiled it for your brother. I like to look at it as sharing the wealth of information so that we’re all on the same page.

Jesus has shown us who the giver of the gift are. Because he sees us as friends. If we see ourselves Jesus’ servants, we may be attempting to avoid the greater mutuality that Christ seeks with us as his friends. In other words, there may be something in us that says I don’t want to know, I don’t want to see what you see. I want to take the gifts without the responsibility.

And for us living in a culture that celebrates self-autonomy and choice, these words may call us back to an awareness of God’s initiative in seeking us out, gathering us into a community, and sending us into the world.
“If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” – African Proverb

We’ve got miles to go, friends! Let’s go together. Let us pray... Dear God, Thank you for your love!

https://foundryumc.org/