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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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Sunday Jun 17, 2018
Sunday Jun 17, 2018
Sing Your Prayers
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, June 17, 2018, the fourth Sunday after Pentecost. A Tempo sermon series.
Texts: Isaiah 49:8-13, Colossians 3:16-17
“Those who sing pray twice.” It’s a phrase I’ve heard here and there for years, but never knew where it came from until this past week when I discovered—lo and behold—it is adapted from some words of Saint Augustine! Y’all are going to start thinking I have some kind of obsession with the fifth century Bishop of North Africa! After a little research, it seems Augustine’s point is that singing adds an extra dimension to a text—that words sung rather than spoken express a depth of emotion that cannot be conveyed otherwise.
This idea that song conveys meaning is a very ancient concept. Many of you know that “Myths of ancient indigenous cultures claim that the universe began with one root sound which permeates the entire universe. According to ancient Vedic (Hindu) philosophy, the Sanskrit word, Om, is the primordial sound from which the whole universe emanated. Om represents the Divine and the Absolute.”[i] The idea then, is that chanting “Om” puts you on the same sound “wave” as the Divine Creator and connects you—or makes you aware of your connection—to the whole of creation. Indigenous and religious cultures from around the world have, over the centuries, developed their own unique chants and songs. Songs of joy unite people in that spirit, narrative songs teach the stories of tribal identity and relational values, repetitive chants are used to focus and quiet the mind. Stories are told of how the Muslim sung call to prayer—called the adhan—have brought about conversion simply through the power of hearing it.[ii] Psalms—our Judeo-Christian chant and hymnbook—are the lyrics of prayers to God and meditations on God written to be sung or chanted. Both listening to and singing certain kinds of music and chants are known to have concrete effects upon the body. This isn’t just about sitting in the Lotus position chanting “Om.” Think about what happens when you are singing something or listening to a piece of music and all of a sudden you are moved to tears; or you feel in your body a sense of strength and courage; or you feel more relaxed or at peace. At a funeral, you might be holding it together pretty well until a familiar melody begins to be played and voices swell to lift up the lyrics of the hymn… All this is to say, that music has a kind of spiritual power. It is one of the most ancient forms of connecting with God, of being in relationship with God; it’s one of the most ancient forms of prayer.
As we continue to ponder how we might “return to God’s pace” through prayer in this A Tempo series, I want to focus today singing as a form of prayer. One of the prayers I have loved from my youth is referred to as “The Prayer of St. Francis” and is included in our United Methodist Hymnal on page 481. The words of this prayer are beautiful. Some years back, I heard these words set to music by the singer/songwriter Sarah McLachlan and my heart broke open all over again at their power. Something happens when words and music work together to express or carry a message.
Some might imagine that only a professional singer will be able to create or participate in such a powerful—and even mystical—phenomenon. But every time we gather for worship, we are singing prayers. Last fall, we spent a whole series calling to mind the ways that singing together is a central part of our worship life as United Methodists and we studied together John Wesley’s “Directions for Singing.” We looked at our hymnal during another sermon series on grace and noticed the headings in the top corners of its pages that help signal the theological or spiritual theme of the hymns in that section. And today I want us to explore the “psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” that we may have sung for years but never mentally connected with prayer. And for those of us new to this whole Christian worship thing, my hope is that our reflection on this central act of worship and the idea of prayer through singing will help you understand why we do it. (and, by the way, if you don’t have a great voice or can’t carry a tune fear not! The Bible encourages us to “make a joyful noise” not “make a pretty noise”—so you’re good!)…
Our text today begins with the encouragement to “let the word of God dwell in you richly.” Singing is a great way to do that! I can’t help but think of my Nana floating around the house humming and singing hymns… a powerful image… Singing is a great way to learn things—I probably learned most of my core theology through the songs I sang as a child and youth. Singing songs that have been sung in historic moments of struggle—those sung on civil rights freedom marches or the songs sung at Reconciling Ministries convocations for example—help connect us to the movement across time. Some of our hymn lyrics are a statement of faith or testimony or a proclamation of hope or a call to action. Singing these kinds of hymns invites us to contemplate the promises of our faith, the providence of God, the call of God, and more. These hymns plant the word of God deep within us, draw us close to God and are a form of contemplative prayer.
But some years back, I realized that so many of the hymns I grew up with are direct addresses to God. Not really sure how I missed that detail for so long—perhaps some weird disconnect between “this is a song I sing in church” and “these are prayers that I pray.” I’d made the initial connection by the time I arrived here in the Baltimore-Washington Annual Conference, but it was here that I encountered the tradition of using the words of hymns as public prayers. I’ll never forget hearing Bishop Felton May pray before he preached using these words: “Breathe on me, breath of God, ‘til I am wholly Thine. ‘Til all this earthly part of me, glows with thy fire divine.” (UMH #420) It was then that I began to really think about praying the hymns and singing my prayers.
I wonder if there are hymns and songs that come to your mind as examples of what I’m talking about… There are prayers of invocation like “Spirit of the Living God” and “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” Prayers of lament like “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See.” There are prayers of petition like “I Need Thee Every Hour” (#397) and “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.” (#384) There are prayers of praise like “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty,” (#64) “How Great Thou Art,” (#77) “Blessed Be Your Name,” (WS #3002) and “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.” (#89) There are prayers of confession like “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” (#286) and “Just as I Am, Without One Plea.” (#357) There are prayers of commitment and surrender like “Here I Am to Worship” (WS #3177) and “Here I Am, Lord.” (#593) There are prayers of thanksgiving like “For the Beauty of the Earth” (#92) and “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” (#140) All of these and many more give us powerful words to pray through singing.
Think about what it’s like when the music in this sanctuary draws all of us in and we raise our voices together…there’s something mystical about it. It’s a deep form of communal prayer.
Throughout the Bible we are not only encouraged to sing to the Lord, but we’re given whole books of songs—like the love song that is Song of Solomon and the Psalms. I’ve long celebrated the way the Psalms cover the full range of emotions, but this past week I found a writer who made me think about that in a new way—particularly parts of the Psalms that get really raw in anger and suffering. The example the writer uses is Psalm 137, a lament over the destruction of Israel. Briefly, the context of that Psalm is that the people have been the victims of horrific violence, their loved ones hurt and killed, their homes destroyed, and they are now exiled into the very lands inhabited by their conquerors. The Psalmist gives voice to the lament and the raw emotion of the moment. The Psalm begins, “By the rivers of Babylon—/ there we sat down and there we wept / when we remembered Zion.” But the last words of that Psalm are, “O daughter Babylon, you devastator! / Happy shall they be who pay you back / what you have done to us! /Happy shall they be who take your little ones / and dash them against the rock!” The author writes, “Verses like that embarrass us. They’re disquieting, disconcerting. Part of me wants to edit them out of the Bible. What a mistake that would be, like censoring a prayer… What if we sang out in our anger…? What if our vengeful urges were put to music to sing to God? I can imagine the experience would be cleansing, healing. We all have enemies. We’re supposed to pray about them…Why should we be surprised when a psalm gets raw? A lot of other contemporary music is.”[iii] This is simply another reminder that we don’t have to hold anything back from God. God can take whatever we’ve got. And this week I imagine we might have some anger and raw emotion to bring into God’s presence in prayer.
Throughout scripture we see people at key moments break into song—I realized it like one long musical in the old style---dialogue, dialogue, dialogue, and then someone starts singing! There’s Miriam’s song of praise to God for liberation from slavery (Exodus 15:20-21), Israel’s song of thanksgiving for God’s provision of water in the wilderness (Numbers 21:17-18), the fight song of Deborah, Prophetess and Judge (Judges 5), David’s songs of praise, the prophet Isaiah’s songs of judgment, victory, and praise, the prophet Zephaniah’s song of joy (Zephaniah 3:14-20) and Mary’s song of praise— what we call the “Magnificat”: “My soul magnifies the Lord, / and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, / for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.” (Luke 1:46-48)
Pray the hymns. Sing your prayers. Connect with God and with others through the power and cosmic resonance of music and feel Spirit’s power. Prayer is the heart of our spiritual life. And when you sing, you pray twice.
[i] https://blog.pachamama.org/healing-sounds-of-the-universe
[ii] http://www.ethnotraveler.com/2013/12/a-reason-to-rise-the-men-behind-the-muslim-call-to-prayer/
[iii] Rick Hamlin, “To Sing is To Pray,” https://www.huffingtonpost.com/rick-hamlin/to-sing-is-to-pray_b_3154977.html
Monday Jun 11, 2018
Monday Jun 11, 2018
Held
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, June 10, 2018, the third Sunday after Pentecost and Pride Sunday. A Tempo sermon series.
Texts: Isaiah 41:8-13, Acts 17:16-28
Back in the mid-80’s, the band U2 had a hit called “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”[i] When I went back and read the lyrics, I recognized in that 1980’s song the same yearning addressed by Saint Augustine in his book The Confessions written at the turn of 5th century of the Common Era. A famous prayer from that book is, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” For Augustine, this was not a naïve, untested sentiment, but rather a reality discovered through the crucible of living, through relentless looking for meaning and happiness. As one author puts it, “Behind Augustine are a succession of desperate searches for fulfillment: excessive pleasures, false religions, philosophy, dissipation and distractions—futilities that left him so weary of himself he could only cry out, ‘How long, O Lord, how long?’”[ii] In other words, Augustine had tried to find what he was looking for all over the place, in all the obvious ways presented by the world, and yet remained restless and unsatisfied, not at peace or happy. He still hadn’t found what he was looking for.
What he finally discovered is that fulfillment, peace, and purpose are found most profoundly through life in God, relationship with God, loving God, being loved by God, being held in the grace and mercy of God—this is the context in which it is possible to truly find rest. Our Christian tradition affirms that we live and move and have our being in God. We are always surrounded by God’s grace and mercy and love—whether we know or acknowledge it or not. What United Methodists call God’s “prevenient grace” is always present and at work, loving and nudging and holding us. Active awareness of this reality is a form of prayer.
A couple of weeks ago, I shared a story about my first spiritual retreat and my surprise that the initial “exercise” I was given consisted of floating on a raft in the pool and simply imagining the raft as God holding me. I was directed to spend my first couple of days “resting in God.” It wasn’t as easy as it might sound. In the world, we get used to the idea that we have to always strive for things, to produce things, search for things, to be a certain way, to prove ourselves, to measure up, to succeed and put on a happy face and pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and convince ourselves and others that we are OK and that life isn’t as hard as it is sometimes… How can we possibly just “rest in God” with all that to manage? Don’t we need to get busy??
Add to that, to be held in God requires trust and trust is not a simple proposition. When we’ve been burned, trusting anyone or anything becomes a challenge. Trust is hard—for some of us more than others. There are big trust questions that may make it difficult to allow ourselves to be held in God: Is God really there? Does God want me or love me? If God holds me will I be OK? Will I be held back or set free? These questions are too big and deep to address fully this morning.
But on this Pride weekend when we celebrate the beauty and gifts of LGBTQ people—and do so in active, sacred resistance to a world and church that continues to discriminate and reject; at the end of a week that saw two well-known people (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain) end their lives through suicide after long struggles with depression; and in the face of heart-rendingly cruel policies inflicted by our government upon migrant children and their families[iii] and so many other parts of our human family, it seems particularly fitting that I had planned to focus today on prayer as simply being held in God. I hope you will forgive me if I don’t try to parse the biblical text or provide subtle and nuanced theological responses to the big questions today. I like doing both of those things—or a least trying to do them.
But today, what I want to do is to simply invite all of us to consider the Christian promise that Augustine experienced firsthand and that we hear through the prophet Isaiah—that God is with us and holds us. The word of God through Isaiah includes these words: “I have chosen you and [will] not cast you off; do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand… I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’”
These words can sound hollow when we are in a place of deep affliction. We want God to make it so that human beings aren’t so cruel or vulnerable to despair and illness; we want God to fix things so that we aren’t so insecure or afraid, so that we can share the fullness of who we are with confidence and with pride. But the scriptures never promise that troubles and trials will not come; in fact we are basically assured of them. In a well-known passage from Isaiah we are told that it is not if but when we pass through the flood and walk through fire that God will be with us. (Isaiah 43:1-2) God will be with us and will care for us in the midst of our suffering, whatever it may be.
This, for me, is not an idle promise or just a hopeful thought. It is my own personal experience and part of my core testimony. When I was in my mid-twenties and suffering from a deep clinical depression, I distinctly remember a moment when, alone in my little garage apartment in New Haven, I announced to the universe that I was done with God and done with faith and done with trying to be loving and patient and done with caring so much. Because nothing matters and nothing changes and it’s all too hard and I was tired of trying and angry at the injustice and cruelty in the world and it’s all a mess so why bother…?! And in that moment I became aware of a presence with me. I knew that God was there with me. Now, you may imagine what happened next is that I immediately fell into God in bliss and peace. But what actually happened is that I screamed at God until I was out of breath. My primary message? “Go away! I don’t want you here. Leave me alone. I’ll find my way without you. You have allowed the world—and me!—to fall into this pit.” And then God stayed. I can’t explain how I know this. I can’t paint a word picture of the experience. All I can do is tell the story as directly and honestly as I can. I knew that God was with me, assuring me that I didn’t have to take on all the inner voices of despair and desolation, all the voices of nihilism and self-destruction, all the injustices of the world by myself. God was there to strengthen, to help, to guard my life.
God showed up then and held me when I hated myself and despaired for the world and was pretty much done with life. And God showed up in my friend April who insisted on staying with me even when I told her to go away too. And God showed up through a system that got me some counseling and medication to address my illness. Again and again over the course of a 10 year struggle, the presence I felt when I was alone, showed up in and through others. Friends it is so important to show up, to be patient and persistent, to be kind. I am one of the lucky ones who was eventually able to get access to treatment and for whom that treatment has resulted in freedom from chronic depression.
But, as with any illness, that is not always the case. Some people struggle throughout their entire lives to manage the highs and lows of mental illness. Some have no access to treatment. Some folks may think they are supposed to feel miserable because they’ve been told they are bad or wrong or broken. The statistics for LGBTQ youth and adults whose depression leads to suicide reveals an epidemic of the church and society’s own making.[iv] For many people from all walks of life, self-medication—trying to fix ourselves or fill the void through all sorts of unhealthy substances or practices—often makes things worse, not better.
And sometimes, the disease takes over and a person dies. And I want to be very clear—because over the course of history, the church has done harm with its teaching—death by suicide is the result of disease. Terrible diseases like cancer and heart disease invade people’s bodies. Sometimes, folks recover or are able to control the diseases through treatment and live long lives. Other times, not. When that happens, we have to confront the infuriating reality that we cannot control diseases, only walk together on the journey. And, I hasten to add, we may not be able to heal mental illness, but we—as the church—can and must do everything in our power to correct the discriminatory policies and theologies that trigger or fuel it!
The message today is that you don’t have to be healthy for God to hold you. You don’t have to be happy for God to hold you. You don’t have to be in or out of the closet for God to hold you. You don’t have to have a great romantic relationship for God to hold you. You don’t have to be suffering for God to hold you. You don’t have to understand things for God to hold you. You don’t have to be rich, you don’t have to be poor, you don’t have to be employed or to make straight A’s or to be strong or part of the “in” crowd for God to hold you. You don’t have to cheer for the winning team for God to hold you. No matter where you are, who you are, or how you are, you are held in God’s love and grace. God is with you. And when the floods threaten to overwhelm or the fires grow to their hottest point, when inner voices, other people, or earthly systems of empire strive against you, contend with you, are at war with you—God says, “Do not be afraid. I will help you.”
One of the most powerful practices of prayer is to simply acknowledge that God is holding you and loving you just as you are—and then to let yourself be held. God will never cast you off even if others do. And on this Pride weekend I will not fail to say out loud that this kind of prayer, this being with God and being held in God—even with the smallest shred of trust on your part—is the primary prayer the church should encourage for all of us who are trying to be and become fully ourselves. LGBTQ friends, whatever garbage you have heard about “praying the gay away” is just that: garbage. I encourage you—and all!: Let yourself be held in God; ask God to help you know yourself as God knows you. That will give you plenty to work with and to work on. And it will ultimately set you free.
[i] https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/u2band/istillhaventfoundwhatimlookingfor.html
[ii] https://christianhistoryinstitute.org/incontext/article/augustine/
[iii] https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/07/us/children-immigration-borders-family-separation.html?hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=first-column-region®ion=top-news&WT.nav=top-news
[iv] https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/preventing-suicide/facts-about-suicide/#sm.0001vmoqrhqlqdskwrv1js9ko5xu2
Tuesday Jun 05, 2018
Tuesday Jun 05, 2018
Do you love me?
John 21:15-17
Preached by Pastor Dawn M. Hand, Executive Pastor/Chief of Staff
Sunday, June 3, 2018
15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.
A couple of weeks ago on Pentecost Sunday when we celebrated our confirmation class, I mentioned what if we think about Holy Spirit as a precursor to love. As we center ourselves for these few moments, I’m asking us to think about love as a precursor to faith.
Let us pray…
A few years ago when I was a kid, somewhere around the fifth or sixth grade, I remember sitting in class and watching notes being passed around the room. One day, out of the blue, I got a note. It came to me folded up. I unfolded it to read these words – Do you love me? Underneath was two boxes with these words – check yes or no. This was a big decision that could possibly change my like forever. If I checked yes, it meant that I would likely get married and have kids. I checked yes, folded the note and sent it back to my new boyfriend. He opened the note, smiled and glanced back and gave me a thumbs up. And then… nothing. That was pretty much it.
The question, do you love me, has been around for a long time. Working up to our text today, the resurrected Jesus, had now appeared to his disciples three times. On this occasion, it was after the big fishing expedition where Jesus instructed his disciples to cast their net on the other side of the boat. They had hauled in a lot of fish. Jesus positioned near the shore, had prepared a little cook out for them. This is where we pick up the text read for us. After enjoying some fish biscuits, Jesus asked Peter, one of his disciples – do you love me? Jesus asks the question, not once, or twice, he asks three times. Peter must have recalled in his conscience, his denial of Jesus three times when Jesus was in the throes of being led to his crucifixion.
Perhaps Jesus’ question came as an unwanted inquiry for Peter. First, Peter was likely surprised that Jesus asked the question and second, that Jesus asked him repeatedly. Peter checked the ‘yes’ box three times. The last time being distressed and all in his feelings – ‘Lord, you know everything, you know I love you.”
Friends, I don’t think Jesus asked Peter ‘Do you love me,’ three times to try and trip him up or retaliate for Peter’s earlier denials. I think Jesus wanted Peter to reflect on his answer and to raise his consciousness around what this kind of love looks like, feels like, acts like. Because this love, brothers and sisters, is an encompassing love. It’s agape.
Jesus, the One who is called and is claimed in love, is now calling Peter to claim love. And not only Peter. Jesus is asking all of us – do you love me?
I have pondered this question afresh and anew. What if in our vocations, callings, family, community and church life – we image Jesus asking us every day – Do you love me? How might we respond? What box do we check? Is it yes today and maybe no tomorrow?
Is our love deep enough, wide enough, encompassing enough, strong enough to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves?
You have already learned that we had a rough few days at Annual Conference. Our beloved T.C. and another disciple had to experience again that their love is not good enough. Even beyond that, our denomination’s unjust laws tell T.C. and other folks in the LGBTQ community – even if you check the Yes box to God’s call on your life for ordained ministry, we will trump you with a no or not right now or wait. We know God has the final say. We continue to challenge our denominational empire with all due diligence and I hasten to add in respect and love. Friends, some of us have let our raw emotions get the best us. When this happens, sometimes we react badly and hatefully. I don’t agree with our Bishop’s decision either. I think she could have taken another course of action. God knows I believe she could have. At the same time, I don’t agree with the vitriolic responses regarding our Bishop, flying around in social media. We don’t have to attack her character to show our disappointment. This is not the way of God’s love. I’m not telling anyone how to feel, I know we don’t all agree or disagree the same way, yet might we model love in and through it all.
I give thanks to God that T.C.’s love for Jesus is bigger than her love of our beautiful broken denominational empire. It’s her love for Jesus that keeps her faithful in showing up year after year after year. Love and faith require an action. Please understand I’m not suggesting that other folk are not faithful or don’t love Jesus if they choose another path. I’m talking about our beloved sister right here.
No church, mask, synagogue or any other religious or secular institutions discriminatory laws will ever triumph over God’s love for God’s beloved people. I believe this is the love that Jesus presented to Peter. This is the love Jesus presents to us.
Jesus is asking Foundry - Do you love me?
Many years ago when I experienced my own call to ordained ministry – I experienced the power of God overwhelm me with signs and wonders. Friends, I got to tell you it frightened the hell out of me. I didn’t think I was enough to go the distance for that kind of love. Yet, we know God is love and God’s faithfulness endures forever.
What a journey we’ve shared these past seven years. Through my own faults and failures, through our faults and failures together, God has loved us through them to experience a glimmer of light in the darkness of infant deaths and deaths of folk whom we hold dear along the spectrum of their spiritual journey here in this community and in our families. God has loved us to embrace fun and fellowship through retreats, mission trips and parades. God’s love has captured us to renovate this space to be shared in this community. God’s love has covered us in the streets as we witnessed, marched, protested and rallied for the cause of justice. God’s love has sustained us as we traverse through yet another transition.
This is the kind of love that is home made by God from heaven to earth. It’s a good thing that we aren’t God. Because even with our best intentions, sometimes what we call love hurts, it disappoints, it rejects and often times, it’s very much based on conditions. This falls woefully short of God’s love.
Jesus is asking Foundry - Do you love me? Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. When we have checked the yes box, our response has been to feed lambs through our justice and mercy ministries, tend our children and youth, feed our neighbors who need some help with getting life back together.
The work of love is not easy. We know Jesus’ love is not wrapped up nice and neat. Jesus’ love is not always pretty. In fact, I believe Jesus’ love challenges, convicts and inspires us for the living of these days.
It’s a frightening love – because we will continue to encounter someone or something, or some situation that we may not quite be ready for…
And while Jesus’ love takes us there, it’s beyond that…
It’s a fringed love – because out there on the periphery are people who are broken and bruise and grapping and grieving and may not have the where withal to find their way back…
And while Jesus’ love takes us there, it’s beyond that…
It’s a fathomable love – because a family member, a friend and yes even the church continues to harm and inflict pain and the heart gets covered in scales and calluses…
And while Jesus’ love takes us there, it’s beyond that…
It’s a fatigued love – because just when we think we don’t have any more energy or strength to fight for what we believe is justice, Jesus reaches in and resuscitates our weary souls…
O still Jesus’ love is beyond that…
It’s a faithful love – because through it all, there is Jesus carrying us…
O still the love is beyond that…
It’s a love that existed even before the concept of love was conceived.
God so loved the world, that God gave us Jesus that you and me and all of us might have a taste of ever-lasting life.
I believe this is the love Jesus presented to Peter when he said – Do you love me?
It matters how we respond. It matters how we feed Jesus’ sheep. It matters how we tend Jesus’ lamb. We are not disciples until ourselves, we belong to God.
Well, Foundry and other friends, I’m wrapping up my time here and headed to go feed and to tend and to be fed and tended and graze among the sheep and lambs in Western Pennsylvania. I thank God that I go forth in the strength of your prayers and love - believing Jesus asking one more question – Oh Dawn do you love Foundry?
I check yes!
Notes
- This written script is a primary basis of the preached word. Extemporaneous preaching accompanies the written script. This farewell sermon is certainly the case.
- Seven years ago, I had the privilege of saying ‘yes’ (well, after some prodding by the Rev. Dr. Dean Snyder, some of you know the story) to come and serve alongside him, the staff and you. Three years later, I said yes again when the Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli upon her ‘her-storic’ appointment Foundry, asked me to stay and continue serving alongside her, the staff and among you. I am grateful to all the bishops who made it possible for me to be appointed at Foundry. I am grateful to all the staff past and present and to you the congregation. I love you. Thank you for your prayers, grace and love.
Monday May 21, 2018
Monday May 21, 2018
“Pour Out”
Acts 2:1-21
Dawn M. Hand, Executive Pastor/Chief of Staff – Foundry UMC – Washington, DC
Preached sermon on 20 May ’18 at Foundry UMC – Washington, D.C.
Today we celebrate Pentecost, which many in Christendom acknowledge as the birth of our church. Pentecost is a festival, 50 days after Easter or the seventh Sunday after Easter. It’s a festival that celebrates the gift of the Holy Spirit descending on the Apostles and followers of Jesus Christ. Jesus had ascended to heaven and the disciples were left wondering…
We also celebrate our Confirmation Class. Nine young people have been on a several months journey – exploring, navigating, learning and living into their faith journey. We have been praying for them these last few months and are thankful to God for their journey.
It’s been a bit of a tradition here for the Confirmation to pick a word or two for the preacher to incorporate in his or her sermon. The youth have picked their words and I have covertly embedded them in this meditation… Can’t tell you the words, yet you are invited to stay as alert as possible to pick them out.
Let us pray…
I had the strangest dream one night that I was at a birthday party. The time can for dessert - strawberry shortcake. I got the can of whip cream and sprayed it all around my strawberry shortcake. Oh, I was so excited. Got my spoon, shoved a big serving in my mouth. The next think I now I’m shaking my head and hand and causing a scene. Turns out it was a spray can of shaving cream. Didn’t taste nearly as good.
Pentecost must have been some kind of party – everyone gathered in the room and suddenly a loud sounding wind filled the place and all these folks talking in different languages. Scripture informs us they were astonished and bewildered. Some wondered had they had too much of another type of spirit. I’ve been to a few Foundry parties. I’ll just leave it at that.
Imagine just for a moment you being in the place with Jesus’ disciples. The sounds, the sights, the signs. The perplexities of all that is going on. What would you be thinking? Would you try to slide over, so Spirit would not land on you? Would you position yourself just enough to make sure you received a double dose of Spirit?
Yesterday morning like millions of people, I watched the royal wedding. It was spectacular. It’s a good thing I didn’t have a bad case of iridocyclitis - [ir″ĭ-do-si-kli´tis]. That would have made it more challenging for me. On the hills of the castle, the Royal wedding was in a sense – religious feeling of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious –the word means wonderful, good work.
I imagine for some in attendance, the wedding was a bit astonishing and perhaps even bewildering. No, it wasn’t a wind ripping through the atmosphere. Folks in fascinators were not running up and down the aisle. Yet, in that place I imagine some were likely thinking – ‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing and hearing and experiencing in this place. Well, we certainly know history was made on a number of fronts.
There in Windsor Castle St. George’s Chapel, the officiant invoked Holy Spirit pour out and bless Harry and Meghan. And, the bishop preached an impactful homily on ‘imagine when love is the way.” As I listened to Bishop Curry, I immediately thought – yes – how life would change when love is truly the way. Then he preached about the work of fire.
My friends, what if we truly think about Holy Spirit as a pre-cursor to love. When God pours out Holy Spirit – it’s this agent that blows in the crevasses of our hearts. When we receive it and allow Spirit to move us – we could truly live into what God has purposed for us.
When the disciples and other followers of Jesus were gathered, they were astonished and perplexed of the way of Spirit and ability of Spirit. It was Peter, one of Jesus’ disciples that reminded them of God’s declaration spoken through the prophet Jo-el (like Noe-el) – “that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams – slaves, men and women, I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.”
I don’t want us to miss the fact that people were speaking in their own native languages which suggests there was a full expression of diversity praising God and God’s spirit was poured out on all of them. Through this act, the church grew and multiplied.
The Greek word for pour out is Ekcheo – ek-key-o – which means to bestow liberally.[i] What if in this context we think about Holy Spirit – acting and taking root to do good work.
As it was for Jesus’ disciples when they gathered in the holy city of Jerusalem, the same is true for us gathered as Jesus’ disciples right here at Foundry and where ever we gather. For every call we endeavor to join, participate or lead, we yield ourselves to the pouring out of Holy Spirit. Sisters and brothers, there is power in the work of Spirit. Why? Because this is the way of almighty God.
God’s pouring out – God’s bestowing liberally of God’s Spirit is an intentional act to shake, stir and propel God’s people along their spiritual journey –
God’s Spirit is poured out for you to prophesy – have you ever spent time in deep prayer and God revealed something to you? Finally, you had the courage to give voice to that revelation and it came to pass.
God’s Spirit is poured out for you to see visions - what do you vision for your kids, your partner or spouse and family? What do you vision for your life? I know you have thought about it. Is Foundry’s vision to Love God. Love each other. Change the world. - having an impact in your life and in the lives of this community?
God’s Spirit is poured out to dream dreams – my young friends what do you dream to be or do? What captivates your mind? Church what is your dream for our society? I know here at this church, we dream with other dreamers for a time where all of God’s children in the LGBTQ community will be welcomed valued in the full life of the church. We dream for solutions to chronic homelessness. We dream to have a robust children and youth ministry. We dream for adult discipleship to take deep root in the lives of our community. Does our dream extend enough to include radical racial justice? We are constantly bombarded with news reports what seems like on a weekly basis - some black or brown bodies being miscategorized or mistreated and abused. Let’s join in recalling the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. when he said – “‘I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed – we hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.
The work of Holy Spirit is to move us. This is one reason we pray – “Come Holy Spirit.” God is always at work. We are the ones that must be ready to receive and to move forward.
Come Holy Spirit – that we might mend and fix broken relationships.
Come Holy Spirit – that we help lift children out of poverty.
Come Holy Spirit – that we work to change laws to protect our kids and youth in schools.
Come Holy Spirit – that we might feed the hungry with food to sustain.
Come Holy Spirit – that we might value the humanity of all beloved people.
Come Holy Spirit – and saturate this vast land and encompass earth.
Come Holy Spirit – and blow in the halls of Justice.
Come Holy Spirit – that our hearts might be inclined to stay in your grace.
Sisters and brothers, this is a simple prayer with a whole lot of power. For every action of our ecclesial life, we rely on Holy Spirit.
In just a few moments, these confirmands are going to come forward and make their own procession of faith, some will be baptized, some will join in membership. During the liturgy of blessing the water, we will call upon God to pour out God’s Holy Spirit on the water and each of them. In this calling, we are submitting to the power and grace of God’s work. We know that we cannot do this on our own. This – is the work of Holy Spirit.
I’m suggesting to you today that a way we as Christians can gear up, can armor up and go out to be the hands and feet and the embodiment of Jesus Christ is to ask God to pour out Holy Spirit. Don’t do if you don’t mean it.
Friends, as I’m wrapping up my time here in fort nite, I must confess to you that are times in my life I find myself feeling a bit irritated and frustrated. If I’m not careful, it can get the best of me. There are times when I call on God to help a sister out. My prayer is something like:
- Oh God pour out your sweet Spirit to temper my salty spirit.
- Oh God pour out your cool Spirit to quench my hot-tempered spirit.
Siblings, I’m suggesting to you today that a way we as Christians can gear up, can armor up and go out to be the hands and feet and the embodiment of Jesus Christ and love our way through this journey is to ask God to pour out Holy Spirit. Let’s not pray it if we don’t mean it.
Note – This written script is a primary basis of the preached word. Extemporaneous preaching accompanies the written script.
[i] http://biblehub.com/greek/1632.htm
Tuesday May 08, 2018
Tuesday May 08, 2018
Evangelical
Rev. Mark Schaefer
Foundry United Methodist Church
May 6, 2018
2 Samuel 4:5–12; Matthew 11:2–6
2 Samuel 4:5–12 NRSV • Now the sons of Rimmon the Beerothite, Rechab and Baanah, set out, and about the heat of the day they came to the house of Ishbaal, while he was taking his noonday rest. They came inside the house as though to take wheat, and they struck him in the stomach; then Rechab and his brother Baanah escaped. Now they had come into the house while he was lying on his couch in his bedchamber; they attacked him, killed him, and beheaded him. Then they took his head and traveled by way of the Arabah all night long. They brought the head of Ishbaal to David at Hebron and said to the king, “Here is the head of Ishbaal, son of Saul, your enemy, who sought your life; the LORD has avenged my lord the king this day on Saul and on his offspring.”
David answered Rechab and his brother Baanah, the sons of Rimmon the Beerothite, “As the LORD lives, who has redeemed my life out of every adversity, when the one who told me, ‘See, Saul is dead,’ thought he was bringing good news, I seized him and killed him at Ziklag—this was the reward I gave him for his news. How much more then, when wicked men have killed a righteous man on his bed in his own house! And now shall I not require his blood at your hand, and destroy you from the earth?” So David commanded the young men, and they killed them; they cut off their hands and feet, and hung their bodies beside the pool at Hebron. But the head of Ishbaal they took and buried in the tomb of Abner at Hebron.
Matthew 11:2–6 NRSV • When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
I. BEGINNING
Friends, I am here to talk to you about Jesus. The only Son of God, our Lord! He came to us from heaven, lived among us and died for our sins on the cross! Can I get a hallelujah? But the story did not end there, friends, no, it didn’t. Because he ROSE again. He came back from the dead so that ALL would know that God has given us a gift of life from the dead, of eternal life through the blood of his precious son, Jesus Christ! Can I get an amen?
I don’t know how long I can keep that up. That gets kind of exhausting for a Methodist from Upstate New York.
But I am willing to bet that something close to that kind of religiosity is what many of you think when you hear the word “evangelical.” Something about loud, emotional preaching. Charismatic religious leaders with huge congregations or tent revival meetings and altar calls, people weeping in the aisles. Lots of jumping up and shouting “Hallelujah!”
Or maybe your mind goes less to the worship style and more to the implicit theology: exclusivist claims to salvation, an emphasis on individual—often sexual—sin rather than systemic sins like poverty and racism, a preoccupation with whether you’re in or you’re out. A lot of asking, “When were you saved?” (My favorite answer to that question is: “2,000 years ago on a hill outside Jerusalem.” Feel free to borrow that one.)
Or maybe it’s the particular set of political beliefs that tend to come with the Evangelical theology: social conservatism, lack of inclusion toward the LGBTQ community, a strong support for law-and-order justice, a strong military, and other traditionally conservative political positions.
However it’s understood, for many Christians who do not so identify, the word evangelical has left something of a bad taste in people’s mouths for a while. In fact, fifty years ago, when the Methodist Church merged with the Evangelical United Brethren to form our current denomination, they didn’t choose to be called the sensible combination of their names—the Evangelical Methodist Church or the Methodist Evangelical Church—they instead dropped the word evangelical and opted to carry over united, instead. (As an aside, this is why it’s preferred to refer to us as United Methodists—so that we honor the EUB churches who joined with the Methodists five decades ago.)
But all of this is to say, that there is a lot of discomfort around the word evangelical. But what does it mean for us, really? Is there a sense of the word that those of us on the other side of the theological aisle can embrace? Despite all of the connotations that we perceive when we hear it, what does the word actually mean?
II. EVANGELICAL
On a basic level, Evangelical means “Gospel based.” It comes from the Greek word euangelion meaning “good news” or gospel.
Now, at first, this word was meant to be in contrast to those Christians who based their doctrine on things other than the scriptures, specifically, the Catholic Church which derived much of its doctrine from its accumulated theological tradition rather than directly from the scriptures themselves. Thus, Evangelical was a term that meant something like “according to the gospel” as opposed to “according to the church.”
In Germany, for example, the word Evangelisch simply means “Protestant.” (By the way, when I typed that word into the Google translation software to double-check, I still had my translation set to Latin and the site rendered Evangelisch as haereticus “heretic”—so, it appears that the Vatican may still have some lingering feelings about the Reformation, or at least those writing in Latin, anyway.) To this day, the Lutheran Church in German is simply the Evangelische Kirche and its sister church in the US is the ELCA—The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
Now, in America, from the 18th century onward, the term evangelical referred to those who affirmed the importance of a personal experience of salvation, known in the heart. This experience of salvation was seen as a central and essential element of Christian faith.
And during the heyday of what was known as the “Evangelical consensus,” there was an agreement that this affirmation of the experience of God was accompanied by a commitment to outward expression of faith, frequently in acts of “piety” and “mercy”—which we would call “worship, devotion, service, and justice.” This was particularly the case among those Christians whose traditions emphasized the assurance of salvation, the new birth in the believer as a result of one’s justification and pardon of sin, and the gradual sanctification of the believer under the power of God’s grace. And especially those traditions whose founder himself had come to this theological understanding after years of tutelage by pietist Moravians who emphasized the religion of the heart and who himself had had the experience of his heart being “strangely warmed.”
So, yeah, I don’t know how to break this to you all. But Methodists are … Evangelical.
Wesley was absolutely convinced of the power of God’s justifying grace to work a change in us that regenerated us or that gave us a new birth. This, in turn, precipitated an assurance of salvation that he believed was every Christian’s birthright. It was these experiences of salvation that was what drove the early Methodists to work for prison reform, seek justice for the poor, establish schools and universities, fight for abolition, and so on. We did these things because we were evangelical, not despite being so. The Social Gospel was an outgrowth of Evangelical Christianity.
Now, in the early 20th Century, the Evangelical consensus began to collapse. The progressive social gospel was viewed with suspicion by more conservative elements and there arose a divide between those Christians who saw sin as a primarily personal issue and those who saw it as a societal problem.
After the Scopes Monkey Trial about teaching evolution in the public schools took place in the 1920’s the term Evangelical arose as an alternative label for a conservative Christian who wasn’t quite a fundamentalist. And the more progressive, Social Gospel Christians were content to let them have the label.
Reeling from the embarrassment of the Scopes Monkey Trial, most evangelicals withdrew from active engagement with public life and opted out of organized participation in politics. This retreat was so great that the language of Evangelical Christianity, disappeared from the collective awareness. Whereas an old Evangelical concept like being “born again”—or as John Wesley would have called it “regeneration” or “new birth”—once made it into Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address as “this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom,” now journalists no less respected than Walter Cronkite had to explain to his viewers that they’d looked into it when Jimmy Carter had claimed to be a “born-again Christian” and discovered that this was fairly common.
The mainline traditions that had come out of the evangelical tradition, had not just abandoned the label of evangelical, we’d abandoned the language of evangelical Christianity, such that our sense of being “evangelical” in any way was lost. Evangelical now meant what the conservative Christians had claimed it as: a conservative Christian who wasn’t quite a fundamentalist.
But that is a depleted sense of the word. The term evangelical is not just a subset of a subset—it’s meant to encompass us, too.
III. GOOD NEWs
What does it mean, then, for us to claim to be evangelical?
At its most basic level, to be evangelical is to be rooted in the gospel—in the good news. To share the good news. But what’s the good news?
In the TV show Futurama, there’s a running gag wherein Professor Farnsworth, owner of the Planet Express delivery service, will come into the meeting room and make an announcement that always begins with “Good news, everyone!” But the announcements tend to be things like:
- “Great news, everyone! You’ll be delivering a package to Chapek 9, a world where Humans are killed on sight.”
- “Good news, everyone. Tomorrow you’ll be making a delivery to Ebola 9, the virus planet.”
- “Good news, everyone! Today you’ll be delivering a crate of subpoenas to Sicily 8, the Mob Planet!”
With Professor Farnsworth there is a disconnect between his assertion that he’s bringing good news and the nature of the news he’s actually bringing.
We see something of that in the passage from 2 Samuel that we read earlier. In that passage we read of the aftermath of the dynastic struggle that follows in the wake of David succeeding Saul as king of Israel. Rimmon and Rechab found Ishbaal the son of Saul and slay him while he was taking his noontime rest. They behead him and ride all night to deliver the head of Ishbaal to David, clearly expecting to be rewarded for this. David’s reaction is quite different:
“As the LORD lives, who has redeemed my life out of every adversity, when the one who told me, ‘See, Saul is dead,’ thought he was bringing good news, I seized him and killed him at Ziklag—this was the reward I gave him for his news. How much more then, when wicked men have killed a righteous man on his bed in his own house! And now shall I not require his blood at your hand, and destroy you from the earth?”
The men who did this and who reported it thought that they were bringing good news to David, just as the one who brought the news of Saul’s death did. But in neither case was this actually good news. David has enough sense to know that the death of these men—a political rival and his innocent son—might have been seen as politically expedient but can hardly be characterized as “good.” It’s important to understand that news that might be advantageous to you is not necessarily synonymous with good news.
I think this is the case with so much of what is held out as “good news” in contemporary Christianity, and part of many people’s responses to the word evangelical is because the Gospel that is frequently encountered doesn’t seem to be good news.
Somehow, the proclamation of Christ’s victory over death and sin gets translated into an almost Professor Farnsworth version of the Gospel:
- “Good news, everyone! The overwhelming majority of the human race is condemned to eternal hellfire and damnation!”
- “Good news, everyone! The key to salvation is intellectual assent to a very specific set of extraordinary propositions that must be believed without any trace of doubt!”
- “Good news, everyone! It doesn’t matter how loving your Hindu and Muslim neighbors are, because they have not accepted Christ as we do, they can expect an eternity of psychic torment when they die!”
Does any of that sound like good news to you? Sure, it’s good news for the people who happen to fit the narrow definition of the faithful, but it’s hardly the kind of thing that would be understood as good news to anyone else. This sounds closer to the “good news” that brought word of the deaths of Saul and Ishbaal.
Now, if you’re one who is worried about your own eternal fate and someone were to tell you that you have nothing to fear because you are one of those for whom Christ died, then, yes, that would be good news. But it’s hard to see that proclamation being understood broadly in the same way to people who didn’t have that angst. If I’m an atheist who doesn’t believe in God or life after death, telling me that I’m going to hell unless I adopt a particular creed wouldn’t sound like good news in the slightest.
IV. GO AND TeLL JOHN
So, then, what is good news? How do we know what counts as good news such that we should proclaim it? As in so many things, it is instructive to look to Jesus. After all, Jesus began his ministry in Mark’s gospel by saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:15 NRSV)
Further, we read in our Gospel lesson earlier that John the Baptist’s disciples came to Jesus to relay a message from John asking him if he was the one they were waiting for or should they wait for someone else. Jesus’ response is:
Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.
There are two things to note about this passage. The first is Jesus’ answer to how it is they can know whether Jesus is the long-awaited messiah: because, among other things, the poor have good news brought to them.
“Bringing good news” is connected to the poor. If we’re looking for a test to determine what is “good news,” let me suggest that the good news isn’t news the poor would receive as such, then perhaps it isn’t really good news. Or at least, the kind of Good News that the Christian is to be bringing.
Second, all of the verbs are in the present tense:
The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. This means that the good news is not about something that happened centuries ago, but something that is happening even now in our midst.
If we are to be good-news based, if we are to be sharing the gospel, if we are to be evangelical then let this be our evangelion. Let our Gospel be that God is active in our midst. Let our Gospel be that we are the agents of God’s grace and mercy. Let our Gospel be one that speaks powerfully to the needs of the disadvantaged and the marginalized, to the widow and the orphan, to the immigrant and the poor. Let our actions be an illustration that we truly are bearers of the “Good News.” Let our Evangelicalism be about sharing a message of liberty to the captive, justice to the oppressed, binding up of the brokenhearted.
If we claim that as our Good News, there should be no reason to shy away from being evangelical. Nor would we have any reason to shy away from insisting that everyone should have a powerful experience of that kind of salvation, and should know the love and grace of God deeply within their hearts.
V. END
For a long time, I have argued that the Evangelical Christians have a lot of fervor but don’t always know what to do with it. And mainline Christians are really busy but we don’t always know why. That needs to end. And, mercifully, it’s starting to.
I have worked the last eighteen years on a college campus and have worked alongside a number of different Christian campus ministry communities, including Catholic, mainline Protestant, Evangelical, and Pentecostal. And if there’s one thing that’s been consistent over the years is the growing interest in the Evangelical and Pentecostal communities to engage on matters of justice. Many young Evangelicals are deeply committed to environmental justice, racial justice, anti-colonialism, and economic justice for the poor. One of my chaplains representing InterVarsity was in my office talking about the racial justice work he was doing with his students and was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Love your Muslim Neighbor” in English and Arabic. InterVarsity, folks. InterVarsity.
It’s clear that there is a hunger in Evangelical Christianity for the Social Gospel. And at the same time, there is a hunger in mainline Protestantism to connect our concern for justice to some deeper experience of God and of salvation. If you have any doubt about that, look around you: at this very moment you are surrounded by hundreds of people who come here regularly to hear your pastor preach the Good News of Jesus Christ, and then translate that into meaningful social action and sacred resistance to evil, injustice, and oppression. You all know how much Pastor Ginger talks about Jesus—and that only makes your commitment to justice and inclusion here at Foundry stronger.
The two sides of contemporary Christian faith need each other. The Evangelicals are reclaiming the outward expression of faith in social justice. And it’s time that those of us on the progressive side, especially us Methodists, reclaim the title Evangelical.
For we serve a God no less powerful, we are no less convicted of our need for grace, we have experiences of God’s love no less meaningful, no less personal than that of those more comfortable with the label.
It wouldn’t hurt for us to get in the habit of telling people why we were doing the work we were doing, of sharing the good news of God’s liberating power, of being evangelical.
Indeed, it is because of that deeply powerful experience of God, it is because we have come to understand the grace of God’s Son Jesus Christ, it is because we believe in the transformation of the self that is possible through love, the “new birth” of a person who has come to know the depths of God’s love, it is because of all these things that we go out to share a word of power, a word of justice, and a word of hope with a broken and hurting world.
Can I get an amen?