Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

Fearless Generosity: A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 7, 2018

Fearless Generosity

A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 7, 2018, the twentieth Sunday after Pentecost and World Communion Sunday. “Fearless Generosity” series.    

Text: Mark 10:13-16 

 The other day Anthony and I sat in an orthopedist’s waiting room, part of a diverse, rather ragtag group in various states of pain and frustration, with the normal quiet of such spaces interrupted by a television blaring a local talk show focused on gossip about the rich and famous.  Into this scene came a small child—maybe around 4 years old—with his dad and grandmother (who was wearing a hijab).  The little one proceeded to walk around the room looking into the faces of each person with his deep, brown eyes and waving at each one of us. This child entered a room full of strangers and offered himself as a gift, as a friend, as someone who saw every unique person in the room and greeted them personally. Some responded with reciprocal smiles or waves. Others were too distracted to notice him or simply chose not to respond. But he was undeterred in his sweetness. He didn’t talk or interrupt or push. He just looked and waved. And the result for me was that in that moment I remembered gentleness and kindness, openness and kin-ship with every person. My heart and spirit were cared for. His offering continues to remind me of what is possible.

Communion—meaning fellowship, mutual participation, a sharing—that’s what is possible. And though it doesn’t happen always and everywhere, today we celebrate that by the grace of God we may share communion with Christ, with one another, and with members of the human family around the world. Our feast is a remembrance that a central part of Jesus’ work and message is to call us back to the truth that we are all part of ONE family and that we need to honor and support and love one another. At this feast we also give thanks that Jesus shared himself fully in solidarity with the silenced and vulnerable and gave his life freely for the sake of the powerless, those most likely to bear the brunt of human injustice and violence, like that little child in the waiting room.

In addition to all this, my brief encounter with that precious little one provides me with a clear image of our new series theme. What he displays is “fearless generosity.”  It is a common child-like quality, this open-hearted, trusting friendliness. Some children are more naturally shy or perhaps respond to stimuli in the world with some anxiety, but all children come into the world with their own unique brand of generosity of spirit and presence in relationships. Fear and suspicion, defensiveness and transactional ways of relating come later—or sooner, depending upon the child’s context. //

I have a vivid memory from sometime in my early elementary school years—you know those random memories that we hold for some mysterious reason from early in our lives?—this memory is of one night when I lay awake in my bed and I was really upset and afraid.  I went into the living room, where my mom and dad were watching T.V. and, with tears streaming down my face I tried to explain my feelings.  I had this overwhelming sense that I was losing something.  And I remember the look on my mother's face, as she tried to discover what was wrong.  I don't remember exactly what I said, except that I was able to identify that I was growing up.  I felt—was it guilt?—like  I was losing my innocence.  And I didn't want to.  I didn’t want to know the things I was beginning to know.

I also remember the time as a teenager when, by way of a cheating boyfriend, I learned that I could no longer trust all human beings with all my heart.  I was angry.  My heart was broken. 

Once we know that there really are things that go bump in the night, once we have been hurt or betrayed, after we have tried to do something and have failed, or taken a risk and been teased; if we have experienced what it’s like to live hand to mouth or to be abandoned by a caregiver; when we have experienced the death of loved ones—parents, children, partners, pets; once we know or have experienced even one of these things we begin to put up defenses.  And of course some reasonable awareness of the painful things in life and some healthy strategies to manage those things are part of growing up.  But the danger is that, in our fear of pain or loss or humiliation, our defenses block not only dangers (real or perceived), but also opportunities, gifts, friendship, joy, love.  We can allow our fear to close us off—the image of a clenched fist is a powerful sign of our defenses…in that posture, we can’t receive what is offered…and in that posture, we aren’t able to give either.

The disciples in our Gospel story today provide another image of what happens when fear creates an obstacle. I don’t know what exactly they were afraid of when they snapped at those bringing their children for a blessing.  Maybe they feared the kids would be a distraction to the things the disciples thought were important, or maybe they feared Jesus’ reaction if they let the children through, or perhaps they were afraid grape juice would get spilled on something deemed precious. Who knows?  But what we do know is that Jesus wasn’t having it. He says, “Let the little children come to me for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

What is Jesus saying? What is required of us who are no longer children, who cannot go back and unknow what we know?  It seems we are challenged to reclaim what is possible, reclaim some of the innate gifts we bear as creatures made in God’s image: warm, soft hearts, curiosity, playfulness, an openness to wonder, an assumption of friendship with those we meet. To accomplish this requires a kind of trust that can only really be called faith. Because we know what we know. We know there are reasons to fear. And yet Jesus challenges us to open our minds, our hearts, our hands so that we might receive the good gifts of life, the good gifts that God extends to us. And not only receive, but also share them.

Most children don’t necessarily enter the world wanting to share their toys; the primal instinct to claim what is our own is a pretty powerful one.  But children are also super receptive. It never ceases to amaze me what children soak up.  Kids pay attention to what we say and teach. They mimic our actions.  My Nana loved to tell the story of my sister—around age 4 or 5—taking a toy away from me (two years her junior) and saying (in a teaching kind of tone) “Share.” Children learn what we teach; and if part of what we teach is how we are to behave as part of God’s family, they often they remind us of what that really looks like.

My dear friend and clergy colleague Alisa Lasater Wailoo shared this story with me and told me I could share it with you today:

At the Capitol Hill UMC where she serves, there is a daily breakfast for unhoused neighbors.  A young mom with two little boys had been coming to breakfast for a while and become known to the core leaders. One evening, one of those church leaders saw the woman and her children on the street in the pouring down rain. After trying to get them into a shelter to no avail, the leader called Alisa who asked the leader to come over and watch Alisa’s two young boys so that she could collect the family and get them settled into a hotel for the night. 

Once the church leader-sitter arrived, Alisa began to explain to her boys what was happening; “There is a mommy who has two boys just like you two—about your ages—and they are outside in the rain right now and need a place to stay, so I’m going to get a hotel room for them.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

At that, the questions from Alisa’s then 3 ½ year old son started.  He asked, “So they don’t have a home?”  “That’s right.”  “They don’t have their own room?” “No, they don’t.”  “So where are they gonna get pajamas from?”  “That’s a good question.” 

And without missing a beat, the child said, “If they’re our age we have PJs we can give them.” And with that he headed into his room and began to pull out some of his best pajamas to give. Once he’d decided on that selection, he continued, “What are they going to wear tomorrow?” He went to his closet and began taking out his nicest clothes. Pastor Alisa was starting to get anxious now…and even found herself saying things like, “Oh, we don’t have to give him that!”

The little one was undeterred and insisted, “They might like soccer too, I want him to have my jersey.” Then… “Mommy, they might not have a prayer book for nighttime.” (Alisa would pray with the children before bed from a book of prayers) Her son said, “I have two, they should have one.”  He chose the prayer book his grandma gave him, a precious gift that meant a lot to Alisa. But her 3 ½ year old son wasn’t afraid of what he was losing. He knew he had what he needed and that another child didn’t. He didn’t hesitate, but immediately opened his heart and his little hands and his room to share. 

My friend laughs as she confesses her own struggle in the moment—as she admits that the pastor, the mommy, was afraid of losing something special, while her son—who had learned these values from her!—was only focused on wanting to give what was needed to help.

The little one in the orthopedist’s office; Alisa’s child; our beautiful Foundry children; and other children in our lives teach us so much. They show us what it looks like to truly receive the kin-dom of God and to share what flows from there with fearless generosity. Thanks be to God.

 

 

The Power Among You: reflection shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, September 30, 2018, the nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Activate” series.

The Power Among You

A reflection shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, September 30, 2018, the nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Activate” series.   

 Text: James 5:13-20

 

This past week I spent two days in Kansas at the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection, a congregation of more than 22,000 people, founded and led by Pastor Adam Hamilton. The church offers a Leadership Institute each year with a variety of workshops and keynotes to provide support and concrete resources for clergy and lay leadership. 1800 folks attended this year’s Institute and I was privileged to be among those offering some teaching. The workshop title I was given was “Spiritual Self-Care in Troubling Times” and the blurb read: “How can pastors and other church leaders navigate the tumultuous waters of culture, especially during times when people—even people who are part of the same congregation—have such strongly divided views?” 

 

These days, on any given week this topic would feel resonant; but this week, for many, has felt like the divides and hostility have gone to new heights (or hit new lows, depending on how you want to look at it).  I have heard and seen folks dealing with anger and trauma, outrage and confusion, numbness and exhaustion at alarming levels. I have been trying to figure out how to deal with my own thoughts and feelings, how to process and discern what I am seeing, in short, how to “navigate the tumultuous waters of culture” as a follower of Jesus.

 

In this context, it was a privilege—and personally helpful—to try to offer those who attended my workshops some guidance, grounding, and encouragement for the living of these days.  And the primary claim I shared with them and with you today is this: As the church, we have all the resources necessary to navigate the tumultuous waters of culture—in this moment and in any moment!  We have a story that sets our lives in the context of a larger narrative of meaning and purpose.  The story reminds us of history—that along with creativity, beauty, friendship, courage, and love—conflict, division, suffering, and injustice have been around from the beginning.  The story confirms that God has been busy with the work of mending from the beginning and has called folks like us into the work all along the way.  Our grounding story gives us spiritual ancestors and images and words that guide our actions and response—that help us see who we are called to be and what we are called to do.  We have spiritual tools of discernment—prayer, study, holy conversations with others, meditation—that challenge us to see beyond our own noses and to receive deeper insight. 

 

Further, sharing life in faith community—serving alongside others, sharing our resources to support the common work, being there for one another through the ups and downs of life, studying the Bible and other books together, sharing the sacraments, and worshiping together, all these things prepare us to weather all kinds of “tumultuous waters” in life.  Here at Foundry—and in any engaged community of faith—we get to practice things like deep listening, humility, forgiveness, thoughtful and respectful speech—with people who are really different from us. We get to practice how to work through conflicts in healthy ways when we inevitably offend, aggravate, disappoint, or hurt each other.  We also get to practice new skills—perhaps through stepping up to provide leadership for a project or group or through participation on a team, or through trusting others through delegation or stretching our capacity for grace and generosity.

 

What does any of this have to do with getting through a week like we’ve just experienced?  Well, if we are really attending to our spiritual life in community—life with and for God and others—that will form and strengthen and guide us in our responses to whatever we encounter in life.  Like an athlete trains with discipline in order to have the capacity to perform, so we are encouraged to be disciplined in our spiritual practices so that, in moments of struggle, pain, loss, and disappointment, we will have the capacity to be generous, gracious, loving, wise, patient, sacrificial, vulnerable, brave, and all sorts of other things—in our homes, workplaces, schools, and in the doctor’s office or in traffic or on social media or at the customer service desk.

 

Throughout this month and our Activate! series, we’ve been studying the short letter of James. James is focused on the ways that our faith takes shape in our works, and specifically, in our relationships with one another. The teachings in this epistle are directed to the church and are all about how to live together without hypocrisy, partiality, oppression, or greed; how to be gentle, respectful, loving, humble, and wise.  Today’s passage is about prayer and about care.  We’re encouraged to pray with one another and for one another in struggle and in joy, to pray with and for those who suffer from physical or spiritual sickness, to strengthen the community through our solidarity and support. There is something powerful about being with our faith community when we’re struggling.  Hearing again the promises of God’s love and presence, being reminded that there is always hope, having another person reach out in love and concern or just sit with us or listen to us, even just being held in the prayers and songs and stories of our faith in worship—all of this helps us “navigate the tumultuous waters of culture” and of life.

 

Part of today’s text has been taught and understood in ways that have done pretty severe damage to some folks’ faith and health.  The notion that “the prayer of faith will save the sick”—taken out of context and applied to individuals—has led down some very dangerous paths (including rejection of medical treatment).  One of my earliest congregants could never get over how his ardent prayers failed to heal his wife’s cancer.  He never forgave himself for not having enough faith.  This is a whole other topic for a whole other sermon. For now, let me simply say that, while prayer does change lives, we need to be very careful in how we understand its power.

 

And it is powerful. It may be among the greatest powers in our midst.  Not because it can magically make things happen that we desire, but because it is the place where we connect with God—where God’s power can work in us and on us and ultimately through us. You see, the power among us is God. It is God’s power that wakes us up, that helps us see ourselves honestly, that helps us see the world around us honestly, that gives us courage to do beautiful and hard things, that messes with us until we finally do the thing we need to do to move toward healing and wholeness—in our bodies or in our relationships.  It is God’s power—the power of God’s love and mercy—that changes hearts and minds and lives. It is God’s power that activates in us a desire to serve and to give and risk ourselves for the sake of love and justice. 

 

Our human power can go only so far and our human power gets corrupted again and again.  But drawing close, staying close to God through community and spiritual practices re-forms and strengthens us.  As the late, local theologian Verna Dozier taught, worship (and I would add any shared spiritual practice) is where we arrive all twisted up and where God scoops us up and pats us back into shape. God’s powerful love forms us—if we’re willing to offer ourselves—into a more loving, generous, merciful shape, into the shape that is our truest shape. This kind of formation and re-formation is what the writer of James focuses on—how our personal faith and prayer allows God to shape our actions and our communities to care for one another.

 

God gives us all we need to navigate the tumultuous waters of culture, all we need to live together in peace, all we need to grow and thrive, all we need to experience the fullness of life.  All we have to do is choose to receive the gifts of God and engage the spiritual practices that put us in the flow of God’s grace. Our choice will have consequences.

Legend has it that Rabbi Haim of Lithuania, was granted permission to visit both heaven and hell.

The Rabbi enters the gates of Hell, which, he is surprised to find, are exquisitely lovely, as is the lush green landscape that lies beyond them. He could hardly believe the beauty of the place, the sight of the meadows and mountains, the sounds of the birds singing in the trees, the scent of thousands of flowers… And then the tantalizing aroma of a gourmet meal catches his attention.

Entering a large dining hall, he sees row after row of tables laden with platters of sumptuous food; yet the people seated around the tables are pale and emaciated, moaning in hunger. Coming closer, he sees that there was something different about these people—they had very large arms, nearly four feet in length. At the end of each arm, they held a fork, but were unable to eat because no one had an elbow. Even though all the food was right in front of them, they couldn’t put the forks into their mouths.

The rabbi then went to Heaven, where he encountered the exact same beauty he had witnessed in Hell. Entering the dining hall there, he saw the same scene—including the four-foot arms without elbows—except in contrast to Hell, the people seated at the tables were sitting contentedly, cheerfully talking with each other, as they enjoyed their sumptuous meal.

As the rabbi came closer, he was amazed to watch how each person at a table would feed the person sitting across from him. The recipient of this kindness would express gratitude and then return the favor by leaning across the table to feed her friend.

The rabbi was determined to go back to Hell so he could share this solution with the poor souls trapped there. Racing into the dining hall, he shouted to the first starving person he saw, “You do not have to go hungry. Use your fork to feed your neighbor, and she will surely return the favor and feed you.”  The angry reply came, “You expect me to feed the detestable person sitting across the table? I would rather starve than give her the pleasure of eating!”

It was then that the rabbi understood. Heaven and Hell offer the same circumstances and conditions. The only difference is in the way that people treat each other. In heaven people feed one another.

God sets the table before us, gives us all we need, all the resources to navigate this beautiful, broken world. God’s power is among us to form us and guide us to share the feast. May it be so.

Reconciling Anniversary : Not Equality in All Things, A sermon preached by Rev. David Meredith at Foundry UMC, September 23, 2018

Not Equality in ALL Things (Equality under the Law)

Philemon 15-16 and Galatians 3.23-38(29)

As you may know, it has been more than two years since I became “the respondent” to complaints about my United Methodist ordination credentials because of my marriage to Jim Schlachter, my life companion for 31 years. The reactions to challenging unjust church law enshrined in the United Methodist Book of Discipline were expected and anticipated. I was prepared for most of the emotional roller coaster.

Then, this past March, the North Central Jurisdiction Court of Appeals heard the appeal of the Church’s Counsel (think Prosecuting Attorney). They appealed the faithful dismissal by the West Ohio Committee on Investigation (think Grand Jury) of two of the three charges. They appealed the dismissals. In the hearing at the Jurisdictional Court of Appeals, both I and my counsel were refused voice or standing in the matters directly affecting my sexuality, marriage, ordination, and ministry.

They justified it by the policies and practices that flowed out of the Book of Discipline. They denied me fair process. I was betrayed by UM leaders, disciples of Jesus, and reasonable people. I felt betrayed by the book and by the church. You know it, too, through T.C.’s experience and those who’ve gone before her.

It has been made clear there is no equality for me or same gender loving people in denominational law.

Betrayal is a sad, all-too-frequent, human reality. Filmmaker Ava DuVernay, in her documentary 13^TH, explores the history of race and the criminal justice system in the United States. The film's title refers to the 13^th  Amendment which freed those held in slavery in the U.S. and prohibited slavery except as punishment for a crime. In other words, it granted freedom to all Americans, except criminals.

There's the loophole, written into the 13th Amendment, embedded in the Constitution. It has been used in the historic criminalization of black people and the incarceration patterns that flow from it and the extremist white supremacist activism that leans on it. The betrayal of African-Americans was laid once again in the exception and then entrenched in policies and practices. That’s not equality, that’s criminal!

We, United Methodists, also know the implications of fine print!! As long as homosexuality is defined in our church law as “incompatible with Christian teaching,” elected church representatives will concoct demeaning definitions of same gender loving people, establish harmful unjust policies, and develop practices of enforcement to sustain them. As long as homosexuality is described as “incompatible with Christian teaching,” same-gender loving disciples will be betrayed by the book, the church, its leaders, its systems, its pastors, and its congregations. There is NO EQUALITY as long as it remains.

In Tony Kushner’s script and Steven Spielberg’s movie, Lincoln, Thaddeus Stevens, who is played by Tommy Lee Jones, was part of a concerted radical strategy to get the Thirteenth Amendment passed and thus abolish slavery in the United States in 1865. The radicals of the day strategized to avoid inflammatory questions about racial equality (namely the full-enfranchisement of voting rights for African-Americans). In order to secure much needed moderate and conservative votes, they withheld that position from the discussion. The vigorous debate in the House of Representatives was transcribed in the Congressional Record. With the poetic license of the movie’s author and director, the key moment was captured like this.

Stevens is challenged on the floor of the House to answer the accusation of Representative George Pendleton that supporters of the Thirteenth Amendment believe in equality of African-Americans, slaves and free, in all things including voting. Stevens responds with sarcastic vigor, then thunders at his accuser, “Even you, Mr. Pendleton, deserve equality under the law.” And then to the entire House, “Therefore, again, and again, and again, I say, ‘I do not hold in equality in all things, only equality under the law.’” The House erupts with cheers and jeers.

This speech prompts Mary Todd Lincoln who is observing from the balcony in the House gallery to indicate her concurrence with Steven’s point in a remark to her black dressmaker, Elizabeth Keckley. Keckley abruptly excuses herself and angrily leaves. For Keckley, anything less than equality in all things, was equality with an exception. Both Stevens and Mrs. Lincoln betrayed her that day. History shows us Keckley was right. We, United Methodists, know the same when friends and allies stop short of full inclusion and fall short of justice for queer persons, their families, congregations, and pastors. Despite a variety of lived experiences and a diversity of practice across the connection, especially as you experience it here at Foundry United Methodist Church and among other Reconciling United Methodists, all of us are tempted to excuse ourselves angrily and leave!!!

Yet we stay. And we fight. And we do what some call “Biblical Obedience” which others call “Ecclesial Disobedience and Covenant Breaking.” Today, we, United Methodists are fighting for and about PEOPLE, no dismissive issue! We are fighting about whether LGBTQ+ people should, on the basis of human dignity and worth, have full rights, responsibilities and respect in our church communities. We, lgbtq+ United Methodists, 1) know only second class citizenship as baptized members. We may not marry our loves in our own sanctuaries. 2) We know only diminished access as called leaders and clergy. We are denied lay and clergy leadership roles, OR encouraged to seek our calling elsewhere OR counseled to live in a closet. 3) We know the personal judgmental assault on our humanity and sexuality. We are the topic of debate without participation, the object of punishment without voice.

Yes, we beat our breasts. Yes, we cry out “How long, O Lord?” The book and institution have become an imprisoning force. Where is our Christ?

But our greatest betrayal lies beyond us and is even deeper than our own. For us, we know in our bones and in our spirit, that it is the gospel that the United Methodist denomination has betrayed!

Into this 50 year struggle for United Methodists, especially in our unique historical context in the United States, ancient and Biblical Philemon has given me vision and courage. Despite its brevity, twenty-five verses on a single page of the Bible, this letter is a profoundly human gift in scripture.

When Paul is imprisoned in Ephesus, he is held in custody with Onesimus who becomes more than just another prisoner to Paul. He becomes Paul’s spiritual companion during their shared incarceration which shapes and forms them both. After a time, Paul sends free Onesimus home to Philemon. Now Philemon was the former master of Onesimus who had been enslaved because of indebtedness. Philemon had slammed the door behind Onesimus when he ran away. Upon release from prison, Onesimus was reluctant and afraid to return to that environment. So, Paul writes a letter carried, delivered, and presented by Timothy to Philemon in early faith community in Colossae as a means of re-introduction between Onesimus, Philemon, and the community.

This original letter is relevant today because it brings to the center one who has been marginalized. It is the living expression of marginalized and otherwise invisible Onesimus. In this narrative, he stands bravely, freely, and willingly next to Timothy as the letter is read to the congregation in public meeting. During the reading, Onesimus stands as emissary with the letter and watches the faces of those in the congregation who are cheering or jeering his life and faith. This is not Joseph of the Multi-colored Coat standing alone in prison, sensing the presence of the Holy in quiet, desperate isolation. This is not Paul or Silas together in a jail in Philippi, energized by their activist experience, arrest, and singing. No, this is Onesimus, the freed prisoner, returned runaway, now disciple of Christ who is the lead character in his own proclamation of the gospel.

Here is the gospel in Paul’s answer to inequality: Onesimus. “No longer a slave, but brother.” That’s the Christian answer to inequality. Onesimus. No longer separated, second-class, diminished, or criminalized!

In Christ, each one of us becomes a sibling of Christ in the household of God. In baptism, we are named as Beloved Children of God, siblings to one another. In conversion and confirmation, we claim Christ as our own and are claimed as Christ’s very own. Not equality in all things, EQUALITY IN THIS! Equality in Christ! Freedom and liberation in this Beloved Community!

It is not about the charity, patronage, or inclusiveness of Paul OR the transformation, conversion, repentance of Philemon BUT about the particular person, gifts, graces, call, mission, and ministry of Onesimus! When we see it in our queer selves, when others stand with us, we rise! Not just for our lives and loves, not just for ALL people, but freely for Christ and for the Gospel.

As Galatians 3:28 interprets, “In Christ there is no division, Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female, among us all are equal.” With, in, and through baptism “in Christ”, you are equal to one another within that community. We are no longer under a custodian, but equal!

Philemon, the person, is a perfect test case. As we have seen, Paul sent Onesimus back to Philemon so that Philemon might – that is, must – freely recognize Onesimus by voluntarily fulfilling his own baptismal commitment. Christians cannot be equal and unequal to one another at the same time. Philemon is directed by Paul to live in a completely new kind of relationship with Onesimus in all aspects of their lives. The former habits of their relationship and the power imbalances of it must now change in the house, in the congregation, in the economics of the market, and in the politics of the square.

That’s what the General Conference in February 2019 has before it. When the people called-Methodist and its elected representatives freely recognize the equality granted by Christ to lgbtq+ disciples and voluntarily fulfill their baptismal covenant to them, they will and must remove “the incompatibility” clause! Equality under the law!

As of old, it is still today, with this radical good news. This gospel is so radical that the church at large has as yet refused to pay it any attention.

Therefore, we are called to see ourselves not only as Onesimus but also as privileged and powerful Philemon. There are those among us today and within the United Methodist Church and our Reconciling traditions we do not treat as equal and free. They stand like Onesimus before us. Therefore, we must also face our privilege and power. We are Philemon and have betrayed our own baptismal promises 1) in relationship to women and People of Color, (We have not kept the promises we professed.), 2) in relationship to UM’s from across the continent of Africa in all their diversity (We have minimized their agency, dishonored their faith, and judged the “colonialized” gospel that “we” taught.), and 3) in relationship to lgbtq+ (We have not stopped the harm or held to the full equality and freedom of the gospel we profess.).

For our own integrity and credibility, we are invited to make the necessary changes in ourselves for equality and freedom. Paul calls Philemon to renounce his privilege and be willing to suffer loss, both socially and economically. To give up his rights to collect a debt and punish an estranged runaway slave, Philemon must imitate Christ’s own willingness to give up his equality with God. It is personal, not private. It is a public matter, and everyone is watching.

Which pushes us to the last challenge? We are also called to be Paul who wrote this missive while in prison for the gospel in Rome when he sent Onesimus back with his letter to Philemon. Paul declared freedom for all while in prison. Was Paul in chains because of the gospel or did the gospel itself put Paul in chains? You see even in freedom we are in chains. So the question is, “Has the UMC put us in chains because of the gospel or has the gospel put us in chains because of the UMC?” Will our love of Christ and practice of love and equality toward all persons bring the UMC to constrain us? It may try. Will the UMC constrain us because of our brave commitment to Equality for ALL? It may try. But we stay and bear witness, not for equality in all things, but boldly for EQUALITY in the Gospel. That’s what makes the church whole and that’s the mission of the church. It is about us, because it is about the GOSPEL!

And it’s a pretty good gift for the 23^rd anniversary of becoming a Reconciling Congregation. Here’s to another year, and another, and another . . .

Watch Your Mouth; A reflection shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, September 16, 2018, the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Activate” series. Text: James 3:1-12

Watch Your Mouth

A reflection shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, September 16, 2018, the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Activate” series.   

Text: James 3:1-2

A man went to his rabbi with a question. “Rabbi, I understand almost all of the law. I understand the commandment not to kill. I understand the commandment not to steal. What I don’t understand is why there is a commandment against slandering the neighbor.”

 

The rabbi looked at the man and said, “I will give you an answer, but first I have a task for you. I would like you to gather a sack of feathers and place a single feather on the doorstep of each house in the village. When you have finished, return for your answer.”

The man did as told and soon returned to the rabbi to announce that the task was complete. “Now, Rabbi, give me the answer to my question. Why is it wrong to insult or gossip about my neighbor?”

“Ah,” the rabbi said, “One more thing. I want you to go back and collect all the feathers before I give you the answer.”

“But Rabbi,” the man protested, “the feathers will be impossible to collect. The wind will have blown them away.”

“So it is with the lies and ugly things we say about others.” The rabbi said. “They can never be retrieved. They are like feathers in the wind.”

This parable illustrates the wisdom we receive from James today: words, once spoken, are just out there, floating where they will, without any chance of being taken back.  And words can do great harm.  The old child’s rhyme lies when it says “sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” The smallest, careless word can be like a small spark that starts a destructive fire.  What can be hurt or destroyed by our words? Feelings, relationships, confidence, trust, peace, and joy—all of these things are laid waste in the path of thoughtless slander or careless conjecture or cruel teasing or hateful speech.  Words “activate” things—either for good or ill. We bless or curse with the words we speak.

When we are hurt or angry or exhausted it’s hard to hold our tongue.  Words sometimes just flow.  I’m an extrovert who needs to talk to process things…the struggle is real.  If I’m not careful, that can be used as an excuse for thoughtless speech.  Then there’s “venting,” a common codeword for running our mouth.  Who doesn’t love a good “vent?”  And there are ways this can be a “healthy” practice.  We truly need safe spaces and confidential conversations in which we can process difficult experiences or frustrating relationships.  But we also need to take great care in where and how and with whom we speak about things that can do harm.  We need to take great care that our offering “safe space” for others to “vent” isn’t simply fulfillment of a need to be in on whatever gossip and drama is available.

Our world is full of harmful words, careless words, bullying words, disrespectful and dehumanizing words—splashed across every kind of media and infiltrating all the places we are.  My hope and prayer is that Foundry can be a community in which we seek a different way—that when we cross the threshold of this place and engage in relationship with one another, we will practice with one another a different economy of speech.  And it will be practice. We won’t always get it right…

But what if we intentionally tried to let our words be measured, fair, and shared in appropriate ways and places; to take a breath and take thought before speaking—especially before speaking about someone; what if we intentionally tried to engage in direct conversation with a person with whom we may have an issue, seeing that person as worthy of such respect.  And when we speak words that hurt, as we inevitably will, what if we were willing to ask for forgiveness; and when words have hurt us, to be willing to extend grace.

May our words be firefighters rather than fire starters. May our words activate compassion and hope rather than conflict and anxiety… Pray that God will grant you grace that your words be for blessing and not for curse. Amen.

 

 

 

 

Where's The Beef? A Sermon Preached by Rev. Dr. Ianther M. Mills at Foundry UMC, September 9, 2018, "Pulpit Exchange, Asbury UMC"