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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.
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Friday May 08, 2020
Friday May 08, 2020
Water Wow
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC March 15, 2020, third Sunday of Lent. “How Can You Believe This?” series.
Text: John 4:5-42
Today we are drawn to a well in the rough, dry, mountainous lands between Judea and Galilee. It is an ancient well, Jacob’s well, and—like all fresh water sources in that region—the well is a source of life. At this strange moment in our common life with the whole world grappling with how to test for, treat, and contain the Novel Covid-19 Corona virus, we are not only in a religious wilderness place—the season of Lent—but also in a wilderness place of increasing isolation and concern for the wellbeing of ourselves and our neighbors, especially the most vulnerable. We are journeying into uncharted territory that is riddled with questions and complications. We may be cut off from some resources that, in other difficult or uncertain situations, would be our “go-to” things or people—church gatherings, sporting events, our local restaurant or pub. Many will be increasingly struggling to make ends meet as gigs and conferences are canceled, hours cut, patrons diminished, shows closed, contracts canceled, and on it goes. Those who already suffer from anxiety and those who daily fight for sobriety may be drawn toward the edge. The avalanche of human struggle and strife that is possible—and some of it already realized—surrounds us as we journey into this new wilderness place.
And let’s take just a moment to acknowledge what has led us place: a microscopic particle—that’s what a virus is. Consider for a moment the fact that a microscopic particle has the capacity to take down all the things we assign so much power to, all the things upon which we with any privilege are tempted to rely: the markets, our own control, the ability to go where we want, when we want, our capacity to buy what we need when we need or want it. This microscopic particle has underscored human hubris in a variety of ways, and is reminding all the world of the truth many live daily: life is fragile and our health and wholeness is never to be taken for granted. The microscopic particle, this virus, doesn’t have any prejudice against the rich and powerful or disenfranchised and impoverished—and so is a great equalizer. The thing that is not equal in our nation and world is access to information and care. That, too, is a truth upon which this outbreak shines a light. It is humbling and disorienting to realize just how much damage can be done by so small a thing. It reminds us of our own smallness and vulnerability.
And today, our spiritual path leads us through the wilderness to this ancient well, a source of sustenance and life.
We’re not the first to travel this way or to need the life that the well provides. In our story today, Jesus—on his journey north from Judea to Galilee—is the first to acknowledge that he needs a drink of water from the well. And in asking for what he needs, Jesus does an astonishing thing: he engages in conversation with a Samaritan woman. These two—a Jewish Rabbi and a Samaritan woman—were part of groups who had been practicing a kind of “social distancing” for a long time. Their distancing was not to guard against harm of neighbor, however, as is our practice today. Their distancing was out of prejudice and even deep hatred. Jews thought that Samaritans were unfaithful because they had—in the time of the Assyrian incursion—worshipped the false gods of the five foreign tribes. You can read the background on this in 2 Kings 17:13-34. It’s pretty clear in the theological histories of Kings and Chronicles that all of God’s people were pretty much equal opportunity idolaters; and the Samaritans had long been guided by Torah and worshiped YHWH. But this religious and racial prejudice was solidified early on and, for ages, Jews and Samaritans avoided each other like the plague.
The need for water, for sustenance, drew these two together. And Jesus, thirsty from his journey, begins by asking the woman for a drink. The woman has what he needs—a bucket—to quench his thirst. In her response to Jesus, the woman focuses on things that normally would divide them, the gender rules, the cultural and purity rules, differing religious practices, and such. She is clearly educated and aware of all the reasons why Jesus should ignore or despise her. But he doesn’t do that. Jesus engages in meaningful conversation with her and truly sees and knows her. In fact this is one of the longest, most lively theological conversations Jesus has with anyone in the Bible.
This unnamed Samaritan woman has often been characterized as (surprise!) a terrible sinner—most likely a prostitute—though nothing in the story necessarily suggests that interpretation. In John’s symbolic storytelling style, the woman is likely a metaphor for the Samaritans as a whole and her five husbands represent the five foreign, false gods named in 2 Kings. A cultural reading of the narrative highlights the fact that “Jesus at no point invites repentance or, for that matter, speaks of sin at all. She very easily could have been widowed or have been abandoned or divorced (which in the ancient world was pretty much the same thing for a women). Five times would be heartbreaking, but not impossible. Further, she could now be living with someone that she was dependent on, or be in what’s called a Levirate marriage (where a childless woman is married to her deceased husband’s brother in order to produce an heir yet is not always technically considered the brother’s wife.) There are any number of ways, in fact, that one might imagine this woman’s story as tragic rather than scandalous.” We don’t know what circumstances led to her situation, but we do know that she has been through a lot and is vulnerable. She’s a woman in a time where women weren’t valued as equal citizens, a member of a despised race, potentially housing insecure, and possibly shunned by other women since she comes to the well alone in the heat of the day instead of with other women in the morning or evening. She comes to the well thirsty, too, but I imagine for something other than the water that was her job to fetch. Perhaps she was thirsty for a different kind of life, a life less complicated and difficult and vulnerable and isolated.
I wonder if her exclamation “Come and see a man who has told me everything I have ever done!” was partly astonishment that someone had finally acknowledged her and seen her as a human being with a brain and heart, a person of sacred worth and dignity. This encounter inspires the woman to be the first person in John’s Gospel to invite others to “come and see” the gift of life and love and care—the living water—that Jesus offers.
There’s a lot going on in this story for sure. But today I just keep coming back to this well, this lifeline that brings unlikely folks together, that provides opportunities for new connection and insight, that reminds us of the needs and vulnerabilities we all share, that continues to gush up with fresh water even today. I was at this well in January and brought some water home… And I was thinking about the landscape in those parts and how vulnerable I would feel were I to journey on foot for any length of time there. In the wilderness and unknown places we become hyper aware of our needs and vulnerabilities. Where will we find what we need to survive, to be safe, to make it to the other side?
In this present wilderness, things get pretty basic—people are stocking up on what? Toilet tissue and water! Pretty elemental stuff. And truly, what is more elemental than water? Months ago as I was first contemplating this text for this series, I discovered a children’s coloring book called “Water Wow.” This coloring book comes with a “pen” that you fill with water. The water magically brings out the colors on the page. What a beautiful metaphor: water brings things to life, brings vitality and color. // I imagine we all know that water is THE thing that keeps our bodies alive. We can fast from food a long time but water is essential. And Jesus says in our Gospel that there’s “living water” that, once received, becomes a spring within us that “gushes up” to eternal life. What is this living water? It might be described as the grace, steadfast presence, and liberating love of God. In the wilderness, we need sustenance for both body and soul. We need water to hydrate, fuel, and cleanse our bodies and “living water”—God’s indwelling presence—to nourish and sustain our spirits.
In the face of all this, I must say it has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done in my 25 years of ministry to NOT be physically ingathering our community in worship on this day. Not only did we have to postpone our special music and reception of 17 new family members here at Foundry—including two adult Baptisms—but it also goes against every pastoral bone in my body. Because in moments of anxiety and uncertainty, it is a grounding thing to be in the same space with other people in worship and prayer and song and community, to be reminded—concretely—that we aren’t alone. In a society that is already so often plagued with disconnection and isolation, this forced practice of distancing seems deeply counterintuitive. But we are reminded that there is not one place or one way to connect with one another and with God. Jesus and the Samaritan woman had that debate thousands of years ago—we don’t have to worship on that mountain or that city or in this building. It’s about the more profound connection that flows within and among us through the power of Spirit. I say often that we are connected in God’s love even when we are far apart—that those who livestream our worship are connected to us in this space. This is an opportunity for us to all remember and celebrate that beautiful gift. We also know that this way of connecting is the way right now to live our mission to love each other, to love our neighbor, because it cares for the health of one anothers’ bodies.
Today we gather at the well. A well that is far away in another land, a well whose waters are present in my hand, a well that represents in our story the ever-flowing grace and mercy of God. Jesus meets us at this well. I don’t know all the circumstances of your life or how you are holding this present moment or how you came to be where you are today. But the Gospel suggests that Jesus does. Jesus sees you, knows what you are going through, what you are feeling today, what you’re thirsting for. Jesus also knows how God’s liberating, reconciling love will set you free to live with greater courage, peace, hope and joy. Jesus knows God’s indwelling presence will sustain you through the wilderness. Jesus sees your dignity and your worth and the difference you can make in the lives of others. This living water is available for you…
Having received it, the invitation is to follow the lead of the Samaritan woman and to offer others water that nourishes both body and soul, to offer physical sustenance to those who need it and to invite others to drink from the well of God’s steadfast mercy and love. Draw from the wellspring of your kindness and generosity and get groceries for folks who can’t get out, reach out to folks who may be feeling anxious or overwhelmed as they try to telework and care for kids who aren’t in school. Organize an online small group or prayer group. Be intentional about calling those in your pew neighborhood who may not have online technology to be connected in this way. Stay close to your sponsor or sponsee. If you happen to go to a restaurant, tip big. If you have the means, give alms to the service agencies who will be even more stretched than usual. Say thank you. Be mindful of the many ways that this wilderness moment is making vulnerable people even more vulnerable.
Today, Spirit has led us in the wilderness to a well and we are blessed to gather at the water, the wellspring of love and grace that nourishes and reconciles and connects and sustains vitality and the beautiful colors of life together. Wow. Thanks be to God.
Friday May 08, 2020
Friday May 08, 2020
Live the Questions?
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC March 8, 2020, second Sunday of Lent. “How Can You Believe This?” series.
Text: John 3:1-17
Now there was a social worker named Martha who came to Jesus and asked, “What kind of God would create a world in which viruses and tornadoes and all other manner of thing are allowed to kill innocent people?
Now there was a lawyer named John who came to Jesus and asked, “Why was I sexually and emotionally abused?”
Now there was a musician named Claire who came to Jesus and asked, “What difference does my life make?”
Now there were janitors and students and judges and teachers and scientists and parents and nurses and people from all walks of life who came to Jesus and asked:
- Why do I have to feel so lonely?
- When will I be able to overcome my fear?
- Why do you allow me to suffer?
- How will I pay my bills?
- Why did this happen to me?
- Should I stay or should I go?
- Where is God?
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus who came to Jesus with questions. And Jesus’s responses raise even more...
Questions are part of human life and they are part of faith. Sadly, many have heard or been taught that questions don’t belong in church. Some have been hanging out in church their whole lives without admitting they don’t understand or agree with some of what they’ve been taught—and so miss the opportunity to go deeper. Some don’t think they can bring the real questions of their lives into church for fear of judgment. This can happen in any context—but certainly in those churches where strict adherence to a particular understanding of the Bible or theological concepts is required, where the goal is to “sign on” to a set of statements that are presented as “the Gospel truth,” and the expectation to support those statements with your actions—even if you see harm being done to yourself or to others as a result. It’s no wonder so many outside the faith stay outside asking, “How can you believe this? And without question?? How can you live that way?”
So many avoid Christian community at all costs because they value honesty and authentic conversation and creative and critical thinking and science and what they’ve imbibed in the collective soup is that to be part of the church means blindly going along with what someone says is true about Jesus, about the Bible, about the world, about people, about everything. And so often what is proclaimed as “Gospel truth” is thin soup, less than satisfying, missing so much of the richness, depth, and nourishment of the Christian spiritual tradition.
Questions are a doorway into a very different way of engagement. Poet Rainer Maria Rilke is instructive in his book Letters to a Young Poet. He writes, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
When we think about some of the questions we struggle with, the concept of “loving” those questions may seem absurd. But what might it mean to love our questions, to live our questions? Well, it certainly doesn’t mean avoiding or denying our questions. It doesn’t mean that we just find the easiest, tidiest answer available and then hold on to that for dear life, even when the answer is unsatisfying. Have you ever had someone give you the “pat” answer to a question of life and death, or suffering or God? Sometimes platitudes might manage to provide comfort—like a well-worn blanket. Sometimes the answer given will make us wonder if our own questions are ok. Other times, eye rolls and deep yogic breathing may ensue… Truth is, it can create anxiety to acknowledge that there are things we may never fully understand—things like suffering and death. It is painful to be in moments of life when we feel that we are wandering in a wilderness not knowing how to get out of that desolate place. It can be difficult to face a big life decision without a sense of clarity for the answer. But to love the questions, to live the questions, means that we give ourselves permission to be honest about where we are and how we feel about where we are, to admit what we don’t know, to ask our questions, to push back on easy answers; and this encourages us to search our own hearts, to lean upon friends, to pray and listen deeply and study the scriptures, to keep learning. It means allowing ourselves to sit in the discomfort of challenge and uncertainty, to “ride the wave” of experience—to “live everything”—trusting that, in time, insight will be revealed…
It has been suggested that the question mark is a profound religious symbol. Because the question mark is the sign of an explorer, a seeker, a wonderer. Just think of our children at that wonder-full age when everything we say is met with “Why?” or “How?” This is the posture of one who is growing and learning and being formed in the questions—by the questions—of life. To sit in the questions provides an opportunity for all sorts of new insights. To love our questions is to recognize that the questions bring opportunities for growth, maturity, deepening faith, a more profound experience of life itself.
We see Nicodemus being offered this opportunity to learn and grow as he encounters Jesus in his own questions. The question at the heart of our Gospel passage today is: how can we believe something that doesn’t make sense? When Nicodemus is faced with the teaching of Jesus about being “born from above (anōthen in the Greek which can mean “from above” or “again”)…” Nicodemus asks the question we all ask at one point or another: “How can these things be?”
Jesus speaks of “earthly things” and “heavenly things” drawing Nicodemus to expand his thinking from solely concrete, physical realities—being born as a flesh and blood child—toward the reality of life infused with Spirit who, like the wind, can’t be seen or controlled, but only experienced. Then Jesus speaks of “believing” and in a way that gets connected to eternal life. “For God so loved the world…” Such beautiful words…and yet these words attributed to Jesus in John 3:16 have been poured out as thin soup and even as poison for a long time. People have taught that you just have to believe a certain thing about Jesus to get your eternal life entry ticket and that people of other faith traditions are condemned (that is especially easy to suggest if you read 3:18). For a few minutes, I want to focus on the word “believes” because this is a word that can be such an obstacle.
In our rational, prescriptive way of thinking, to “believe” something has to do with words—it’s a head trip. We struggle to think of “believing” as something other than working down a checklist of statements and checking the box “yes” or “no.” But Jesus does not say whoever believes in what will be said about me will have eternal life, Jesus says, “everyone who believes in him will have eternal life.” Think about the difference between believing a statement and believing in a person. What does it mean to say to another person, “I believe in you”? This is about a relationship… The Greek word translated “believe” is pisteuo, a word that has several meanings, one which is to “think to be true,” and all the others relational—about trust and commitment. The invitation is to trust in the person of Jesus who proves his trustworthiness throughout his whole life; the invitation is to trust that Jesus’ words and actions contain truth in the largest sense. Theologian Jon Sobrino speaks of believing not in Jesus, but believing in God’s goodness and love through Jesus. That is, Jesus—in the way he “lives everything” and reveals God’s goodness, mercy, and justice—shows us that we can believe that God is alive, that God is working in the world to save the world from itself, that God is love.
Words can’t fully capture what it means to say, “I believe in you.” Every person—including the person of Jesus—is not completely definable or understandable, but always also mystery. This invitation to believe in Jesus is an invitation into the mystery, into the questions…because it’s not all defined or understood. God loved the world so much that Jesus came to the world so that whoever trusts God in the way that Jesus reveals is possible, whoever questions things without undue anxiety (encouraged by Jesus who lived everything), whoever is willing to entrust their heart in relationship as Jesus modeled, whoever is able to hold on in the wilderness place, taking one step at a time because they trust that God will see them through, whoever keeps trying to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly, empowered by the love of God made known to us in Jesus…these will step into a new life, a life held in the largest frame, the eternal frame, a life connected to God’s life which is eternal.
Richard Rohr writes, “Scriptures do not offer rational certitude. They offer us something much better, an entirely different way of knowing: an intimate relationship, a dark journey, a path where we must discover for ourselves that grace, love, mercy, and forgiveness are absolutely necessary for survival in an uncertain world. You only need enough clarity to know how to live without certitude! Yes, we really are saved by faith.”
The invitation is to enter into relationship with Jesus and to take the risk of hope, of love, the leap of faith that the God and the Kin-dom that Jesus speaks of and embodies is not only real, but our true home. And, by the way, I know persons of other faith traditions who learn from Jesus in ways that deepen their spiritual practice even as they don’t confess the fullness of Christian spiritual tradition…Just as we learn and grow through engagement with the teachings of other spiritual traditions. There is no condemnation in God’s love. There is invitation in Jesus’ way. The invitation is to live the questions of our lives, open to the Spirit who in ways unknown brings new life, new learning, growth, and an experience of God that is transforming.
And if you struggle with anything you’ve heard or read here today, then you’re invited to simply sit with that, to live that question with an open mind and heart. Our Gospel shows us that when Nicodemus comes to Jesus with his questions, Jesus doesn’t blow him off or discount him or judge him. Jesus engages him, enters into relationship with him, speaks not of God’s condemnation, but of God’s love.
I hope we will honor Nicodemus who came to Jesus asking the question we all ask at one point or another: “How can these things be?” Evidently, Nicodemus’ encounter with Jesus made a difference in his life because Nicodemus’ journey with Jesus didn’t end on this night with these questions. He continued to live the questions, open to the Spirit’s transforming power. We know this because he was there with Joseph of Arimathea at Jesus’ burial (John 19:39), gently and generously caring for the body of the crucified Jesus, the person through whom Nicodemus believed in a God who doesn’t always make sense.
Sunday Mar 01, 2020
Sunday Mar 01, 2020
The Devil Made Me Do It
A homily preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC March 1, 2020, first Sunday of Lent. “How Can You Believe This?” series.
Text: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7
Humans are storytelling creatures. We love stories. It is widely affirmed that from the time that language came into existence, humans have spoken, sung, danced, and acted out stories—stories that help people know their history, explain why things are the way they are, imagine their place in the universe, laugh at the foibles and earthy realities of life together, celebrate desire and love, and express all the other human experiences of beauty and brokenness in life. Most of the stories in our Bible began as spoken or sung tales, repeated over and over until language found its way into written characters. The stories originated in particular cultures and times and communities and were spoken in languages whose words and idioms are difficult to faithfully translate into our own. So, even though biblical stories are pretty engaging on the surface, interpretation is required. Because these are not just good stories, but narratives that interpret the world, interpret us, what it means to be human, what it means to be in relationship with God and with one another.
A problem is that there are interpretations of core stories in the Bible that have been proffered as the only correct and true interpretation and these are what tend to be most prevalent in the collective imagination. And these hardened and often deeply erroneous interpretations lead those outside the tradition—and, often, us too!—to ask “how can you believe this?” How in the world is that helpful, life-giving, or meaningful?? What kind of God do you follow?
Today we get an excerpt from a doozy of an example. The story in Genesis 2-3 is the second biblical description of how God created life. Distinguished feminist scholar of Old Testament, Phyllis Trible says, “According to traditional interpretations, [this story] is about ‘Adam and Eve.’ It proclaims male superiority and female inferiority as the will of God. It portrays woman as ‘temptress’ and troublemaker who is dependent upon and dominated by her husband.”[i]
We know other derivatives of this—that the snake is the symbol of the devil, that the devil came to the woman because she was weaker—more susceptible to temptation and manipulation, that the woman’s wiles—connected negatively with sexuality—can be blamed for Adam’s transgression, that this story confirms that “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” These interpretations are not benign, but rather support and inspire violence, suppression, blame, denial, and countless other human transgressions. And yet they have continued to be given credence.
Trible, based on her close reading of the story in its original language and literary context, contends that none of the citations from the story used to support this stuff are accurate and most are not actually present in the story itself. There is not sufficient time to share the fullness of Trible’s insight, but I want to look closely at several key pieces of this story in order to disrupt at least some of the assumptions about this rich story.
First, let’s talk about the word translated “man.” The Hebrew word is ha-adam, a play on the word for earth (dust/ground): ha-adamah. Out of the ha-adamah God created the ha-adam. For all of Genesis 2 the appropriate translation for ha-adam is not “man” but “earth creature.” At this point, there is no sexual identification. The earth creature’s pronouns might appropriately be “they/them/theirs”—for this creature holds in its earthy body, the stuff that will become is/issah, male/female, later in story. The earth creature is formed of earth and patted into shape by Yahweh God who then breathes into them the breath of life.
God plants a garden and sets the earth creature in the garden to tend and guard it. God gives the ha-adam this guidance: “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” (Gen 2:16-17) Notice here three important details.
First, God has provided all the earth creature needs to live—every tree is available to feed the creature, including the precious tree of life.
Second, there is only one tree that’s off-limits—the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The consequence for eating of that tree is death. The name of the tree signals the choice before the earth creature—adherence to the life-giving limits set by Yahweh God (good) or disobedience with its death-dealing consequence (evil). God sets a limit in order to keep the earth creature safe, in harmony…alive.
Finally, notice that the same act—in this case, eating—can result in very different consequences depending upon whether the wise, healthy boundaries are honored. If you receive sustenance from this tree all is well, but if you seek sustenance from the tree that’s out of bounds, things get broken, harmony is lost. Can you imagine any activity that, if not kept within healthy boundaries can break bodies, relationships, trust? //
Trible writes, “According to Yahweh God, what the earth creature needs is a companion who is neither subordinate nor superior; one who alleviates isolation through identity.”[ii] From one flesh, diverse bodies are created, bodies drawn to and desirous of the other to again be “one flesh.” In Genesis 2:25 we read, “Now they both were naked, the man and …woman and they were not ashamed.” The nakedness is a symbol and sign of what Trible calls “holy insecurity.” There are threats to the creatures, but in their most primal created nature they know themselves secure in Yahweh God. They know and trust the provision and parameters of God. This allows them to live without shame or fear.
I am referring to pieces of the story we did not hear today in order to set proper context for the encounter of the woman and the serpent that we did hear. These two have gotten a very bad rap over the centuries.
The “naked”—trusting, vulnerable—woman and man encounter the serpent who was more crafty than “all the wild animals that the Lord God had made.” This last bit is key; the serpent is not an evil power apart from God’s creation—not the “devil”—but is rather a creature who uses the gifts of its created nature (its cunning) and becomes a tempter. There are all sorts of associations we can make about this—not least of which the power of “reptilian brain” to incite fear when it is likely unnecessary. In the literary context of Genesis 2-3, the reptile becomes a plot device to bring to the fore the real issue: the life and death choice between obedience and disobedience, between trusting the provision and protection of God or allowing fear to incite a grasping for power and control.
The serpent engages the woman in theological conversation. Trible notes that neither uses the formal name for God—translated “Lord God” (Yahweh God)—but instead speak of generic, impersonal “God.” Think about how much easier it is to ignore, bully, or betray someone when you depersonalize and make them an object or stereotype… And the serpent asks a leading question: “Did God say you shall not eat of any tree in the garden?” Tricky. God had said all but one. So the serpent highlights not the generosity and abundance, but the limit set by God. The woman answers with strength and clarity. And then the serpent—who is this creature??!—has the audacity to claim knowledge of God and proceeds to interpret what God really meant when setting the boundary around the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. “You won’t die. You’ll be like God.” You won’t be diminished or lost anything or break any healthy relationship or do damage to your body or soul if you cross this line, you will be more powerful, more alive, more fulfilled! You will know “good and evil.”
I guess if you are the original earth creatures you don’t know what you don’t know. Who would want to know evil??
And then comes the moment of truth, the turning point in the story—in this story and in our own. “So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.” (Gen 3:6)
Trible highlights the agency of the woman. “Three actions immediately follow three insights…Taking, eating, giving: these actions by the woman do not tell the whole tale of disobedience. The story is careful to specify that the man is with her…Yet throughout this scene the man has remained silent; he does not speak for obedience. His presence is passive…The contrast that he offers to the woman is not strength or resolve…The story does not say that she tempted him…It does not present him as reluctant or hesitating.”[iii] The point is that the woman and the man illustrate the range of human responses to temptation and transgression. “Both activity and passivity, initiative and acquiescence, are equal modes of lawlessness.”[iv] The woman and man were mutually responsible for their actions. The woman is not the villain, nor the innocent victim of “the devil who made her do it.” The man is not the innocent victim of the temptress woman—the “devil” who made him do it.
The woman and man both eat what Yahweh God warned would do harm; and paradise is lost, the life of perfect love and freedom, of harmony, mutuality, openness, vulnerability without fear, trust, interdependence is gone. The sexually differentiated earth creatures who once were naked and unashamed now feel the need to hide. They hide their bodies with “loincloths.” And if you read the rest of the story you see that they hide from God, too. The creatures go from a state of not needing defenses, to becoming defensive when Yahweh God seeks them out. Hiding, defensiveness, denials, rationalizations, blame, and discord between people once united. That’s the prize for eating the forbidden fruit.
I find it fascinating that this story—this story!—has been used to try to make LGBTQ persons hide, to make human sexual desire feel shameful, to blame women for everything, and to rationalize all sorts of violence. Why, do you imagine, is this so…?
[i] Phyllis Trible, God and the Rhetoric of Sexuality, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978, p. 72-73.
[ii] Ibid., p. 90.
[iii] Ibid., p. 113.
[iv] Ibid., p. 114.
Sunday Feb 16, 2020
Sunday Feb 16, 2020
Whom Do You Serve?
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC February 16, 2020, the sixth Sunday after the Epiphany. “Life Together” series.
Text: 1 Corinthians 3:1-9
Who among us is familiar with the Jello mold? I grew up in Oklahoma with various versions of Jello as a primary food group. My mom didn’t so much do the “molds” but, oh my goodness, some of the folks at 1st UMC, Sapulpa had this thing down to an art form. The first parish I served in Rockville also had some strong contenders in the Jello mold category. Evidently, my mother in law was known in days past as the Jello mold queen. Now, why—you may ask—am I rattling on about Jello molds this morning?
I’m thinking about the process of being formed into a particular shape or image and, as you may know, to make a Jello mold you mix the flavored gelatin powder with hot water to dissolve it and then pour the liquid into the mold. You refrigerate it until it gels and then “turn it out” from the mold with the gelatin having taken the shape of the mold. Pretty basic concept—and the one that popped into my head as I pondered my point for today…
Over the past several weeks we have been exploring the apostle Paul’s first letter to the 1st century church in Corinth and what it teaches us about our life together. The cross is at the center of Paul’s message and is lifted up again and again as the lens through which to understand how to be in community. Practically, Jesus shows us on the cross the way of sacrificial love and solidarity and models how we are to live with and for others. Our focus is to be on loving service, not social climbing or political posturing or forming up teams of “us” versus “them.” We have learned that we don’t have to have fancy degrees, or know all the “right words” or do things in a certain way to receive the gifts of grace, forgiveness, and new life that flow from Christ’s sacrifice of love. We have considered the difference between the wisdom of the world and the wisdom of God and learned that our call is to be willing to proclaim in word and deed the unpopular wisdom of Jesus Christ and him crucified. All of this helps provide a frame for how to live as people of Christian faith.
One of my theological mentors, Rev. Dr. Serene Jones, taught me that the shape of any given church forms disciples according to that shape. The worship, language, theology, practices, systems for ministry, and stance with and toward others form certain kinds of Christians. Paul teaches that a faithful church will be cross-shaped. This means in part that the things we see at the cross—surrender, sacrifice, salvation, humility, righteousness, faithfulness, grace, forgiveness, love—are what a faithful congregation will strive to deepen and grow in the lives of its people and as a community. Some of you will know that many church buildings are built in the shape of a cross so that when the congregation gathers they are literally cross-shaped as a community. The cross is the “mold” in both literal and figurative ways—the form within which we take shape as Jesus-followers and disciples.
Today’s installment from Paul’s letter gives us a very concrete measure by which we can see how much we’ve “gelled” as a cross-shaped community. Paul asks, “As long as there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving according to human inclinations?” This is a particularly poignant question in our current context as a denomination, nation, and world. And honestly, we don’t have to go far to see that the question may aggravate a tender place in our own personal lives.
It was personal for Paul, too. Apollos was evidently seen as an opposing team captain—a popular leader in the early church and well-known in Corinth. But Paul makes it clear that he and Apollos are both servants of God, both sent to serve in distinct ways, and both equally valued. In teaching and modeling this, Paul shows how we are called to serve together and to honor the gifts and contributions of one another—even when others do things differently than we’d prefer or when they aggravate or challenge us. It’s a lesson in valuing our own as well as others’ gifts—so that we don’t get caught in jealous competition or soul-sucking comparison games. Paul also makes a very clear point against setting any human leader up as the one to whom we “belong”—we don’t belong to a pastor or teacher. I, as a pastor among you, am responsible for ordering and supporting our life together in community—and sometimes I do talk about how much I love “my Foundry peeps”—but you don’t belong to me. Paul makes it plain a little later in his letter when he says to the church: “you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God.”
So in these first several chapters of 1 Corinthians we are given a vision and framework for how to live together. We know that cross-shaped lives entail challenge and forgiveness and patience and sacrifice. Cross-shaped disciples are called to see beyond any present pain or injustice to the healing, love, peace, and justice that is the fulfillment of God’s Kin-dom vision…. Wow, that seems like a lot of work. It might seem like too much to do with everything else on your plate.
I’m aware of the weariness and weight that many of us are carrying in our bodies and souls in these days. The past number of years is taking a toll. Our daily lives and responsibilities—caring for children, parents, friends, work, our own health, etc… may feel increasingly exhausting. And the enormity of the brokenness in our world, the daily, constant stream of deeply concerning news can tempt us to despair or to completely “check out.” I want to gently remind us that the powers of worldly wisdom, the powers of empire, want us to do just that, to check out and give up. The wisdom of empire delights when we become distracted and dissolve into factions, quarrel, tear each other down. Imperial powers rejoice when we become overwhelmed and decide there’s nothing we can do. Worldly powers want us to despair, want us to abandon those with and for whom we are called to stand, want us to lose perspective and to forget who is holding us and all things.
As those formed by the cross of Christ, we know that we can call on the power of God to resist the idolatries of the world, the death-dealing ways of empire, the hope- and joy-sucking droning on of bad news and seemingly insurmountable brokenness. In a cross-shaped community, we will be reminded when we gather in worship that we serve a God who has shown us through cross and resurrection that even when we feel weak and appear defeated according to the ways of the world, we are strong because of God’s steadfast love and presence with us. In this Black History Month I’m reminded of countless examples of black siblings who, strengthened by their faith, stood up, spoke up, sat down, marched, and did not—and do not!—give up even the face of deep hatred and systemic oppression—from Rosa Parks to Shirley Chisholm to Dorothy Height to RuPaul, from MLK to Jesse Jackson to John Lewis to William Barber. Cross-shaped community forms and strengthens us to keep stepping, reminds us we are not powerless, that we are not alone. Cross-shaped community allows us to try to practice humility, mutuality, grace, courage, reconciliation—in short, to lessen the jealousy and quarreling that fracture our relationships and lives. When we are living our call in this way we work together, honor the gifts of each, and bring our collective power to bear on the challenges facing us. When we are living our call we hold on to each other and support one another when any one of us is struggling to keep going on the journey. When we are striving to live as cross-shaped community, we remind one another that there is new life on the other side of wilderness wandering and crucifixion, that the cross of Jesus has shown us that the worst the world could do is no match for God’s life-giving and liberating love.
Cross-shaped community forms disciples who are servants—not of empire and worldly wisdom and all the shiny idols that so easily lure and distract us—but rather servants of God’s way of mercy and love and justice. We don’t have to fix all the jealousy and quarreling in the world, the deep divisions both petty and profound, the brokenness all over. Christ is the savior of the world, not you or me. We are simply called to do what we can do, to choose clearly and intentionally whom and how we will serve, and to serve alongside others to change the world as part of God’s larger work of mending. We do our part, we may design or plant or water or prune but it is God who brings the growth and new life.
I will close with these words from Sacred Resistance:
“As followers of Jesus and as communities of the cross, our call and identity is love, mercy, solidarity, and justice. We can turn away from this call out of fear or selfishness, we can live smaller lives than we’re made for, we can reject the love that forms and fuels a life that is truly human. That is our prerogative.
But thanks be that it’s God’s prerogative to have mercy on us. Thanks be that in Jesus we meet our God who is radically free and will not be compromised or silenced or coopted to serve selfish, oppressive, violent human desires. Thanks be that our God hangs in there with us even when we want to trade God in for another model. Thanks be that our God is love and compassion. Thanks be that, even with so much evidence to the contrary, humankind is created in the image of that God. Thanks be that Jesus took the form of a humble, human servant so that we might take the form of a loving, merciful God.”[i]
[i] Sacred Resistance: A Practical Guide to Christian Witness and Dissent, p. 36.
Sunday Feb 09, 2020
Sunday Feb 09, 2020
Unpopular Wisdom
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC February 9, 2020, the fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. “Life Together” series.
Text: 1 Corinthians 2:1-12
“I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” (1 Cor 2:2) Why is Paul so focused on “Christ crucified?” Why not proclaim Christ resurrected? It seems to me the resurrection angle would have a better chance of going viral. If you’re trying to start a new church, why in the world make your logo the instrument of torture that killed the one you’re trying to convince people to follow? Why include a trigger word (um…crucified) in your tag line?? Some market testing might have been useful.
And Paul, for all his faults and hangups, was a smart, highly educated dude. He knew lots of things. He knew the religious law backwards and forwards because he was a Pharisee. All to say, Paul could have come into the highly educated city of Corinth showing off his capacity to speak eloquently, to reason and debate, and to impress the powerful with his own power. But instead he proclaims, “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”
This proclamation has always been a hard sell. Paul writes the cross is “a stumbling block” and “foolishness” to worldly ways of thinking. This hasn’t changed over the centuries. Think for a moment about the difference between many Christian sanctuaries on Good Friday and Easter. (Let me help: we don’t have to plan overflow space for Good Friday to manage the crowds). Many folks are happy to make the leap from the Palm Sunday parade to the Easter fanfare. I get it. Who doesn’t love victory? Why would we choose to linger in those dark days and experiences in-between triumph and triumph?
Paul was smart enough to know this and still—“decided to know nothing except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” Why is Paul so insistent on this as the center of the proclamation for our life together as followers of Jesus?
What do we see when we stop at the cross? One writer who shows up each month in my morning devotions describes it saying, “When I stop at the cross…I see surrender, sacrifice, salvation, humility, righteousness, faithfulness, grace, forgiveness, love!”
What would it look like for those things to be held at the center of communal life?
Think about those things for just a moment. Surrender…not the kind of surrender that is giving in to powers of oppression, but rather releasing control—letting go and letting God guide and strengthen us. Sacrifice…not to become a martyr in a self-promoting way, but to truly share yourself, your power, and your resources with and for others—even when it costs you a great deal. Salvation…not the kind that we might imagine can be achieved for ourselves, but the kind that only happens through the power of God. Humility…not the kind that dismisses our worth and strength, but that recognizes the worth and dignity of others and is willing to become small so that others might be magnified. Righteousness…not self-righteousness, but being in right relationship with God, others, and creation. Faithfulness…not blind loyalty, but instead deep trust of God’s guidance and care. Grace…not cheap grace that requires nothing, but free grace that inspires our devotion and response. Forgiveness…the gift that is liberation from bitterness, resentment, guilt and shame—and that asks for not only words, but changed actions. And love. Free, unmerited, unearned love. When we stop at the cross, these are some of what we find—modeled by Jesus, offered to us by Jesus. Imagine if these were truly at the center of human community…
And every single one of these things are directly counter to what Paul calls the “spirit of the world” and the “wisdom of the world”—what I have called in my book Sacred Resistance, “the idols of current cultural religion.” What are some of the core teachings of cultural religion?
- Happiness is found in having things.
- Get all you can for yourself.
- Get it all as quickly as you can.
- Violence is entertaining.
- Always seek pleasure and avoid boredom.
- Win at all costs.
This is popular religion, popular wisdom and we have to be very careful to not be taken in by its promises. In an old Pearls Before Swine cartoon, “Rat explains that he’s trying to come up with a motto to live by. Pig makes some suggestions, the first being ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ When Pig asks Rat what he’s come up with, Rat’s answer is: ‘Crush the little people.’ Then in the last frame says, ‘I’m trying to be realistic.’
In our world—and, it seems, it has been this way forever—being ‘realistic’ leads people to put their trust in whatever they think will get them safety, power, comfort, attention, or wealth. Being ‘realistic’ leads us to believe that violence and exploitation are unavoidable. … ‘This is the way the game is played,’ folks will say. And the ‘little people’—the poor, the children, the marginalized, are always the ones who suffer as a result.”
This past week, we have seen some pretty clear clashes between the wisdom of the world and the wisdom of God. We’ve seen a prominent Senator break ranks—led by his faith and conscience—knowing full well what he would endure as a result. We’ve also heard the leader of this nation—with scores of so-called Christians supporting him—suggest that his wisdom regarding enemies is greater than the teaching of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. There is much I could say about this blasphemy. But what I will say is simply that Jesus taught us to love our enemies. (Mt 5:43-45)
That’s unpopular wisdom. But there it is. And Jesus didn’t ask us to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. He showed us how to love enemies. He challenged those who opposed the ways of the Kin-dom. But he didn’t do them harm. He got angry at those who did harm to others, but he didn’t stir up violence against them. He invited those who hurt and accused him personally into right relationship with him, with God, and with others, and grieved when that gift was rejected. He took the slanders and body blows of his enemies without retaliating or losing his agency or dignity. And from the cross he speaks words of compassion and forgiveness upon those who had cruelly abused and killed him.
Is this difficult and the highest of our callings? Absolutely. But we proclaim Christ crucified, not popular, worldly wisdom. Christ crucified has always been characterized by many as foolish, weak, unrealistic, fake news. But for those of us lucky enough to have even an inkling of the wisdom of God, we are given grace to embrace the unpopular wisdom of Jesus.
Perhaps Paul insisted on keeping Christ crucified at the center of the proclamation because he understood the perpetual human temptation to follow worldly wisdom—the idea that we are in control, that we can earn our salvation, that weakness is unacceptable, that might makes right, the one with the most toys wins, cruelty can be rationalized as “truth-telling,” slander and prideful retaliation framed as strength. Perhaps Paul understood that if we focus primarily on resurrection and victory, it becomes possible to ignore the crucified people of every age. Think about it for a moment… If our focus as Christians is primarily on resurrection victory—the reward we get for our good lives—then it’s not much of a leap to self-centered prosperity gospel. If our focus is on resurrection as entry to heaven when we die it’s not much of a leap to the space where all the energy is on saving souls for eternity but not giving a flip about what happens to bodies and spirits in this life. But if, as Paul insists, we focus on the cross, we cannot help but see what “worldly wisdom” and “cultural religion” does to innocent victims. We can’t help but see the result of human injustice, fear, and oppression. When we stop at the cross we see that Jesus isn’t alone there… and we are asked to care and to respond. As one theologian writes, “the cross of Jesus is for us not an empty symbol but a point of entry into the pain of the world…”[i]
How’s that for an invitation to a new church start? But Paul must have been on to something in his proclamation, must have been led by some measure of God’s wisdom…because people responded, people joined up, people received the story of Jesus with hope and their lives were changed as a result. True, it didn’t take long for those first churches to dissolve into old patterns of competition and division. But the message kept calling them back to the promise and the new way of life extended to them in Christ.
This is the message calling to us today. It challenges us to see our own temptation to give in to the ways of “worldly wisdom.” It calls us to follow Jesus in solidarity with the innocent victims of the world’s cruelty, injustice, and greed. It reminds us that Jesus is with us in all our weakness, suffering, and struggle. And the message also reminds us that the story doesn’t end at the cross. There is new life, victory, resurrection on the other side, all of which may be experienced in this world in ways large and small. New life happens when someone is given a place to live or a way to feed and support their family. Resurrection happens when, through persistent, loving care, balance and health is restored to fragile eco-systems or fragile spirits or fragile communities. Victory is sweet when sobriety is supported and sustained, when obstacles are overcome through support and courage and determination, when folks beat the odds, when we die well because we have lived well. The kind of victory implied by the unpopular wisdom of God is achieved not by “crushing the little people” or avoiding, denying, or trying to jump over pain and struggle and death. It is victory that happens by the grace of God who journeys with us through the pains of this world into a life that is more loving, wise, and whole.
When I stop at the cross
I can see the love of God.
But I can’t see competition.
I can’t see hierarchy.
I can’t see pride or prejudice
or the abuse of authority.
I can’t see lust for power.
I can’t see manipulation.
I can’t see rage or anger
or selfish ambition.
I can’t see unforgiveness.
I can’t see hate or envy.
I can’t see stupid fighting
or bitterness, or jealousy.
I can’t see empire building.
I can’t see self-importance.
I can’t see back-stabbing
or vanity or arrogance.
I see surrender, sacrifice, salvation,
humility, righteousness, faithfulness, grace, forgiveness,
love! Love … love…
When I stop! … at the cross
I can see the love of God.[ii]
That is what holds our life together…now and always.
[i] Douglas John Hall, The Confessing Church, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996, p. 133.
[ii]Godfrey Birtill, from Celtic Daily Prayer