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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 Oct 28, 2018
Sunday Oct 28, 2018
Fearless Giving
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October28, 2018, the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost and Commitment Sunday. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:46-52
There once was a man named Bartimaeus who, at one time, had been able to see. But now he is blind and sitting in a prominent place on a prominent road. He is a beggar, a “nobody,” discounted by passers-by as one who was of no good to anyone. As he sits, he clutches his cloak. This, you see, is his comfort, it is his warmth, it is his security. By day, he spreads his cloak out in his lap to catch the coins that are tossed his way and by night that same cloak is his blanket. He clings to his cloak, his security blanket; holding on for dear life to the comforting, familiar contours of the thing that defines his way of life.
Over the years, Bartimaeus has come to believe what others say about him. He has grown comfortable with the “facts” of his situation. “It is what it is…” I imagine him thinking, “I am what I am…and I can’t trust anyone and I can’t be different than I am today. I am hurt and rejected, called a sinner because of my state, blamed for my own suffering. If I move from my spot here, someone else will come and take over my prime position by this road so I’m stuck here. People come and go in the busy-ness of their lives, all passing me by.”
But one day, Bartimaeus hears that Jesus of Nazareth is setting out for a journey along that prominent road from Jericho to Jerusalem. And somehow, from somewhere deep in his soul, Bartimaeus remembers who he really is. Like the son who had ventured far from his father’s home and had squandered all the gifts that he had freely received, Bartimaeus “came to himself.” He knew Jesus was near and so he cried “Mercy!” Those who were with Jesus only saw a nuisance, a nobody, a beggar—they were quick to remind Bartimaeus that he didn’t merit any notice, that he didn’t belong in their group, that he needed to keep his mouth shut. But Bartimaeus called out again to Jesus as the Messiah: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
And then the most wonderful and surprising thing happened. The surprise is not that Jesus stopped in his tracks or that Jesus heard Bartimaeus’ cries or that Jesus called the man to himself. No, the surprise—the miracle—is that Bartimaeus threw off his cloak and sprang up. In that moment, this man sheds all the security and comfort and familiarity of his old way of life. He throws off the cloak of an identity and reality that kept him quiet, that left him feeling resentful and powerless, an identity that was deeply ingrained in his very being. And when Jesus asks what it is that Bartimaeus wants, the blind man does not ask for a lifetime supply of blankets, he doesn’t ask for a way to continue more comfortably in the life that he is living. Instead, Bartimaeus presents himself with the strange and faith-filled expectation that he can be changed, that he can become someone not entirely new, but more of who he knows himself, in his heart of hearts to be. He asks to see again. Bartimaeus’ faith in Jesus’ care for him gives him the power to reclaim his life, to stand up and to speak out, to take his rightful place in the journey towards Jerusalem, to regain what he had lost. From this place of faith-filled power, Bartimaeus joins Jesus, following the messiah on the way to the cross.
The story of Bartimaeus is the story of our lives in so many ways. No matter what our circumstances, all of us have security blankets that, if we’re not careful, hold us back, keep us silent and sidelined, make us believe all those old limiting messages received from people in our past about who we are and what we’re capable of, make us cling to idols we think will save us. And Jesus draws near to all of us—whether we perceive that nearness or not—and is so generous. “What do you want me to do for you?” This is the question Jesus asked of James and John when they came with their demands (Mk 10:36) and it is the question Jesus asked of Bartimaeus when he cried out for mercy (Mk 10:51). I believe it’s the question Jesus asks of us all. Our God is so generous with us, wanting to give us not just what we think we want, but the deepest desire of our hearts—to be free of what binds us, to know ourselves held and loved by God, to have purpose and meaning for the living of our days.
These are the gifts that make it possible to live with less fear. But to truly receive them means we will have to throw off our proverbial “cloaks,” our false security blankets, and move toward and with Jesus. These past weeks, Foundry has been engaging with our “extended family” congregations, Asbury UMC and John Wesley AMEZ, in a study of Howard Thurman, the brilliant and influential pastor, teacher, and author who deeply influenced the civil rights and social justice movements of the past 100 years. In his book Jesus and the Disinherited Thurman speaks directly to our theme for today saying, “Nothing less than a great daring in the face of overwhelming odds can achieve the inner security in which fear cannot possibly survive. It is true that a man cannot be serene unless he possesses something about which to be serene. Here we reach the high-water mark of prophetic religion, and it is of the essence of the religion of Jesus of Nazareth. Of course God cares for the grass of the field, which lives a day and is no more, or the sparrow that falls unnoticed by the wayside. He also holds the stars in their appointed places, leaves his mark in every living thing. And [God] cares for me! To be assured of this becomes the answer to the threat of violence—yea, to violence itself. To the degree to which a [person] knows [that God cares about them], [that person] is unconquerable from within and without.”
Liberation from fear requires “great daring in the face of overwhelming odds.” That’s what we’re after around here. We at Foundry sit in a prominent place on a prominent road. And we intentionally stand in solidarity with those who live on the edge or are pushed to the margins. And we call out injustice and suffering even when others say we should keep our mouths shut. And we are doing all we can to make sure that folks don’t just pass us by, but have their lives or hearts impacted by our presence here; that the passers-by are challenged and inspired, maybe even drawn to the shared life and work and vision that is available in and through our congregation. And we are laboring to help those whose dignity and identity has been trampled or denied remember and believe that they are beautiful and beloved, that they can live fully and freely in the liberating love of God. And the only way we can do any of it is if we, like Bartimaeus, show great daring in the face of overwhelming odds, trust God’s love and care for us, throw off our security blankets, and get on the journey toward the cross and resurrection.
One of the primary ways we do that is through our giving. These past weeks, we’ve been talking about generosity, about how children remind us what fearless generosity looks like, about the way Jesus gets all up in our business and pushes our buttons about our relationship with our money and possessions, about the challenge to risk failure for the sake of love and justice. We’ve learned from our month-long study of the 10th chapter of Mark that giving without fear is a way to practice living without fear. And today we find ourselves in our prominent place on this prominent road and Jesus is drawing near and calling to us. We are being called to throw off the cloak of scarcity—the lie that we don’t have the financial resources among and between us to fund the vision for 2019 and keep our incredible forward movement going. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to reach more people with the Gospel message of love and inclusion and hope and justice we proclaim. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to feed, stand in solidarity, advocate, and serve in even more profound ways. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to experience ever more transcendent worship, to support the growing numbers of babies, children, and youth that are all around us, and to be and become true beloved community.
And, yes, I know the markets tanked this past week. That just makes this moment even more poignant and significant. Even when the markets are great, giving money is a huge leap of faith. And in this moment I am asking that each one of us—in an act of great daring—truly gives as much as we can; I’m asking that you don’t just fill out the estimate card on auto-pilot but consider whether you can be one of at least 200 folks who will give for the first time or increase your gift for 2019 in the amount of $2000. It may be that some of you can cover five of your siblings who are unable to participate by contributing $10,000 or there might even be someone among us who can cover 50 folks with a gift of $100,000. Others may only be able to give or increase $1000 of $100. If you want to count yourself among those who will help us raise the additional $400,000 we need for 2019, I invite you to note that by writing “fearless” on your estimate of giving card. //
A story is told of an incredible tightrope walker who would do tightrope acts at tremendously scary heights all over Paris. And he not only crossed the rope, but would do it blindfolded, then he would go across the tightrope, blindfolded, pushing a wheelbarrow. An American promoter (who didn’t think it could be done) challenged the tightrope walker to do his act over Niagara Falls. The reply came, “Sir, although I’ve never been to America and seen the Falls, I’d love to come.” After a lot of promotion and setting the whole thing up, many people came to see the event. The tightrope walker was to start on the Canadian side and come to the American side. Drums roll, and he comes across the rope which is suspended over the treacherous part of the falls—he does this blindfolded! He makes it across easily. The crowds go wild, and he comes to the promoter and says, “Well, now do you believe I can do it?” “Well of course I do, I mean, I just saw you do it.” “No, do you really believe I can do it?” “Well of course I do, you just did it.” “No, no, no, do you believe I can do it?” “Yes, I believe you can do it.” “Good, then you get into the wheelbarrow.”
Today is the day Jesus asks us to get into the wheelbarrow. Throwing off the cloaks of our old way of living, throwing off the cloaks of our false security and control, throwing off the cloaks of what we’re comfortable and familiar with—these are profound acts of faith in Christ. It means that we’re willing not just to call out to Jesus, not just to speak the words of faith—“O yes, Jesus, I believe in your power”—but to change our behavior, risk failure and loss, give fearlessly to practice living fearlessly. It means that we put ourselves in the wheelbarrow, trusting that Christ can and will sustain us. It means giving fearlessly so that all kinds of new life might emerge…
Sunday Oct 21, 2018
Sunday Oct 21, 2018
Fearless Service
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 21, 2018, the twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:35-45
What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? I don’t remember the first time I heard that question, but it has stayed with me for years. It’s a powerful question for me—because one of my biggest fears is failure. Maybe some of you will relate. The fear of failure can keep me—or any of us—from stepping out and trying something or doing the thing that we really want to do. I realized at one point that my ability to even name what I really want had atrophied as a side effect of this fear. I’ve always been in awe of folks who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to ask for it—demand it even—those folks who would just go for it.
James and John are those kind of folks. Hey Jesus, give us cabinet positions in your administration! Jesus—who had just for the third time said that he was going to be arrested, humiliated, killed, and rise again (Mk 10:32-34)—would have had cause to simply respond with a face palm. Really dudes? This is your response to my impending suffering, death, and resurrection? Maybe James and John just heard the “after three days rise again” part—kinda like lots of us do during Holy Week, thinking that we get to Easter without traveling the road that takes us to and through the tomb… But Jesus forgoes the facepalm and tries to bring the disciples along. Even when the others get their backs up over the audacity of their colleagues, Jesus simply reminds all of them what they signed up for: “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mk 10:43-45)
To be clear, there is “glory” in following Jesus, the glory of new life and eternal joy and liberating love—but first comes the agony of defeat, of suffering, of death, of failure. You don’t get to “greatness” in the Kin-dom of God except by serving others, by humbling yourself, by experiencing loss and emptiness. I wonder if part of the teaching is that the power of self-giving love is the real power. And self-giving love will intentionally assume a posture of service and of solidarity with those who suffer. Taking such a posture will mean vulnerability; it will invite ridicule from those who don’t understand such a stance, those who believe the only way to get by in this life is to manipulate, overpower, control, or intimidate others. But the power of self-giving love is the kind of power that works in mysterious ways, making hard hearts tender at least around the edges and chipping away at crusty prejudices and seemingly intractable injustice.
It occurs to me that, living as we do on the other side of the first Easter morning, we might begin to understand that the question to ask is not what we would do if we knew we couldn’t fail, but what failure we’re willing to risk for the cause of love and justice. Jesus faced into the very worst of the world—took on the full weight of empire’s fury—evidently knowing he would have to lay down his life, in order to bring liberation and new life to all God’s children. Jesus risked absolute failure for the sake of love for the world. This the one we’ve thrown our lot in with. Our call is to embody the same kind of fearless service as Jesus.
I often get push back on this, hearing some version of, “Jesus had that whole ‘being God’ thing going for him and I’m just me.” But here’s the thing: we know there are people in the world down through the centuries who reflect the self-giving love of Christ and who remind us that fearless service is not just a nice idea, but is really possible through the love and grace of God.
Last Sunday, we officially named three spaces in our physical plant that honor folks who are part of the fabric of Foundry Church and whose fearless service has impacted the life and witness not only of Foundry but of our denomination and larger world. Norman and Frances Prince, Arthur and Bernice Flemming, and Bill and Vivian Kirk. I’ve been particularly thinking about Dr. William Astor Kirk over these past months as the United Methodist Church ramps up to the special called General Conference of 2019 that will impact not only the future of the denomination’s stance related to LGBTQ persons, but also the future of the UMC as a whole. Dr. Kirk is one I wish were still around for me to talk with and to receive counsel from about these weighty matters.
Dr. Kirk is a breathtaking example of our topic today—the kind of self-giving love and fearless service to which we are all called to aspire. Over a lifetime of fighting for justice, he must have risked failure after failure and yet he persevered. I encourage you to look him up and see what I’m talking about. Some highlights of his fearless service:
“Upon completing his Master's degree in Government from Howard University in 1974, Dr. Kirk and wife Vivian relocated to Austin, Texas where he assumed the position of professor of Government and Economics at Huston-Tillotson College. Dr. Kirk, active in Austin civic life was an organizer in the local chapter of the NAACP and arranged peaceful protests that led to desegregation of the Austin Public Library and many other public facilities. Dr. Kirk's work against discrimination also focused on the University of Texas where he applied and was
admitted to a PhD Program. Dr. Kirk's refusal to study in segregated classes prompted a lawsuit by the Austin chapter of the NAACP. Subsequently Kirk, in 1958…became the first African American to earn and receive a Doctorate in Political Science from the University of Texas.”[i]
Dr. Kirk was the sustaining force in the long but ultimately successful effort to end the “separate but equal” Central Jurisdiction and integrate the United Methodist Church. He was first Secretary and later Chair of the Committee of Five that set out in 1960 to dissolve the Central Jurisdiction and end the apartheid-like structure of The Methodist Church. “Kirk was chosen as an alternate delegate to represent the church body at the 1964 General Conference of the Methodist Church. At this national meeting, the Church Union Commission voted to maintain its policy of segregation. Kirk was aghast. In his own words he found himself ‘completely dumbfounded. My emotions ranged from deep anger to almost uncontrollable outrage to profound sorrow.’ Kirk responded by passionately and eloquently arguing against this decision. Hours of debate ensued, and finally ‘The Kirk Amendment’ was passed. This amendment established a denominational ‘commitment to end institutional segregation’ within the church. When Southern church leaders challenged this at the 1965 judicial council claiming local autonomy, Kirk argued that the denomination did have the authority to end segregation. His arguments were so effective that the council’s 1965 Judicial Decision No. 232 canonized ‘the creation of a racially inclusive church.’”[ii]
Dr. Kirk’s commitment to civil rights in church and society (he served five presidential administrations) extended to all who are marginalized and oppressed. During Foundry’s “Summer of Great Discernment” around Marriage Equality in 2010, I was told that Bill Kirk is singlehandedly responsible for the inclusion of one of the most important lines in our marriage equality statement. After the first draft was painstakingly prepared and proudly presented to the leadership, Dr. Kirk offered a critical piece of feedback. Here’s what I was told by one of the principle authors of the final statement: “Bill Kirk pointed out that we were focused on the negative parts of The Book of Discipline and had neglected to include the more positive—and controlling—language from the Constitution [of the UMC]. As soon as he said it, I was like “Of course!” It was immediately satisfying not just [to all the legal minds involved] but all the way around. Because there was a tremendous amount of anxiety at the time about what would happen if we thumbed our nose at the denomination so pointedly. It transformed the document into a more affirmative rather than confrontational message. It gave a lot of folks some confidence that we were actually on firm ground. And I still believe that this argument is the one that may lead us home—that the language of the Discipline if not actually ‘unconstitutional’ is essentially so. But it took a wise and courageous old veteran of prior UMC equality struggles to point out what our strongest point was—what a whole bunch of us, supposedly smart, people had completely missed. I will always be grateful. And humbled.”
As I understand it from my predecessor the Rev. Dean Snyder, Dr. Kirk—from his hospital room in 2011—was working on the presentation he’d been invited to make at the 2012 General Conference entitled, “Ending Discrimination in the UMC: How Can the Past Inform the Future?”
Sadly, he was unable to make that presentation due to his death in August of 2011.
To a person, all who knew Dr. Kirk attest to the fact that he was unassuming and simply presented himself as a fellow member of Foundry. This humble stance in day to day relations and his courageous, “all in” commitment to justice and equality for all people amidst great challenges and entrenched prejudice and bigotry are a powerful testimony to the Christ-like, fearless service in which we can all participate.
Dr. Kirk’s witness is an example of the kind of commitment that so many people bring to our shared life here at Foundry. I am daily humbled to learn of what y’all are out there doing in the world—of the places you go and people whose lives you impact for good and the challenges you face and the sacrifices you make for the sake of doing the right and just and brave thing. And together as a congregation, we continue to do all we can to offer spiritual sustenance and support for each one of you wherever you serve—whether that is in the classroom, boardroom, bandroom, courtroom, newsroom, studio, backyard, kitchen or street.
Dr. Kirk also embodies our calling as a congregation. Together, as we bring all our experiences, skills, resources, and insights and humbly offer them to God—we are empowered by grace to Love God, love others, and change the world. Our commitment to social justice and fearless service is a hallmark of Foundry Church and it takes shape in everything from our Great Days of Service to our members and clergy demanding sanctuary for immigrant neighbors, proclaiming Black Lives Matter, promoting common sense gun legislation and climate justice, to feeding hungry people, offering free English as a Second Language classes, tracking down vital documents for unhoused neighbors and decorating the Baltimore-Washington Conference Center with rainbows in protest of unjust treatment of LGBTQ persons. Fearless service is at the heart of our witness as Foundry church. Our gifts are what fuel this witness of bold service and solidarity. It’s why I am so proud to tithe—that is give 10% of my income—to Foundry. I’m currently tithing a number between my net and my gross pay with a personal commitment to keep growing the number until, when able, I not only tithe the full amount but surpass it.
People from across the connection look to us to support and raise up voices like Bill Kirk and to show up in force wherever there is injustice to advocate for love, mercy, and justice in the manner of Jesus. This is our calling and our commitment and it is only possible to live into this high calling through the generous financial contributions of each one of us. // I’ve been sitting with the thought that trying to increase our budget for 2019 by hundreds of thousands of dollars might be foolish. But then I think about the calling that we share and the consequences if Foundry Church falters and of the flame that Spirit is igniting among us that I can feel itching to catch fire in ways as yet unknown. I think about the resources I know we need to keep momentum going and to fuel the growth that will sustain this great institution called Foundry into the next century and I ask myself, “What failure am I willing to risk as a leader for the sake of love and justice?” What are we willing to risk? Will we try?
Are we able to serve as Jesus serves? To love as Jesus loves? To give as Jesus gives? The good news is that we can try—without any fear—because even when we fail miserably or experience setbacks as we seek to serve and love and give, God will always hang in there with us and help us not only move through any loss or suffering, but God will take us all the way to glory, all the way to new life.
[i] https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/CREC-2011-09-15/html/CREC-2011-09-15-pt1-PgE1638-4.htm
[ii] https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fki73
Tuesday Oct 16, 2018
Tuesday Oct 16, 2018
Fearless Living
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October14, 2018, the twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:17-31
“Fearless” is an interesting word and concept. On one hand, to be fearless could get a person into all sorts of trouble—“I think I’ll taste test every berry in the forest!” Some of those things can do you in![i] Not being appropriately fearful—that is, acknowledging real danger—is just a form of ignorance. On the other hand, to be fearless is liberation, it is courage, it is being willing to risk something significant for the sake of something else we believe more significant. Thursday, October 11th marked the 30th anniversary of national “Coming Out Day” and it was a gift to see my FaceBook feed filled with so many powerful stories of liberation, of risking really important things for the sake of fully celebrating the fullness of our God-given orientations and identities. This is a beautiful expression of what it looks like to be fearless in a healthy way.
Sadly, however, studies show that folks are feeling inordinately fearful these days. It’s not because we (as a whole) are in any more danger than at any other time (barring, perhaps, the reality of climate change). Our general fearfulness is fueled in large part by the constant stream of bad news into our consciousness and by the pace of change all around us. These things trigger anxieties and leave us feeling off-balance and out of control and powerless and very vulnerable.
In the midst of this, we’re talking about “fearless living” today. It’s been suggested that in response to the fear all around us, we tend to focus on those things that are both not really the greatest threat AND that we can do little about. But last week, Stewardship Team Co-Chair Tara Holeman Kawasaki named one of the real threats to a fulfilled life and something concrete we can do to deal with it. She said, “I give without fear as way of practicing living without fear.” In these words, Tara captures the heart of our whole “Fearless Generosity” series.
Money is one of the things we rely on and need most in order to feel secure. Do we have enough to pay our bills, to eat, to travel to see our families, to receive medical care? These are important questions and, for many, are daily stressors. Regardless of how much we may have, it is scary to think that we may not have enough. Fear of scarcity is a powerful fear. But Tara’s insight is also powerful: the spiritual practice of giving fearlessly to God’s work in the world is a concrete way to practice extending that fearlessness into the rest of our lives. Honestly, if we can be less fearful with our money, then we’ve overcome one of the biggest hurdles of all.
We see this clearly in today’s Gospel story. This is the only story that Mark tells of someone who is called to follow Jesus and refuses. Why? Well, the story suggests it has something to do with the man’s “many possessions.” He is rich. And the question he asks of Jesus is: “What must I do to inherit…?” The root of the word “inherit” in Greek means “to inherit a piece of land.” So the question has, at its root, the sense of acquiring something, of earning something, of buying something. This one is functioning within a kind of market economy mindset. I have everything else; what will it take to get this other thing that I want? What is the cost? Jesus’ response is to recite the last six commandments of the Big Ten. He doesn’t name the first four—which have to do with our relationship with God—but rather, focuses on the last six, which are all about our relationship to our neighbor. Jesus edits one of the commandments—evidently just for the benefit of this man before him. In verse 19 of our passage, instead of “you shall not covet” (desire someone else’s stuff) Jesus says, “you shall not defraud”(deceitfully gain). This rich man probably doesn’t covet much—he doesn’t really need to! At that time, wealth was largely real estate and folks gained more wealth by acquiring the land of debt-defaulting neighbors (think foreclosures); therefore, it’s reasonable to assume that those with lots of property, had gained at least some at the expense of other people’s struggle and suffering. Those who already have enough getting richer at the expense of those who are already struggling is clearly not a new phenomenon. What would it mean for the man to “not defraud” in this context?
Whatever the answer, in response to Jesus, the man insists he has followed all these commandments “since his youth.” So Jesus just asks him to put his money where his mouth is. Jesus says, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” There it is. And at this, the man is “shocked” and goes away sad because he had many possessions.
You know, this man seems like a nice enough fellow, one who knows and has tried to follow the commands of God, a generally well-meaning sort of person. But Jesus saw the one thing that held him back: a fear of letting go of his material possessions. This man lacked fearless generosity. And it meant that, while he may have continued to live comfortably, he missed the opportunity to live fearlessly. He missed the opportunity to participate in the mending, restorative work of God’s Kin-dom through giving back to those who had lost their land. And he walked away from the invitation to follow Jesus, to get in on the life and world-changing experience of sharing Jesus’ life. His fear of losing something—maybe not just property and wealth, but status and power?—resulted in the loss of some other pretty beautiful things—eternal things, things with a lot more staying power than stuff. //
In all the congregations I’ve served over more than 20 years—larger, smaller, richer, poorer—the leadership has wrestled with fear of scarcity and the challenge of how much risk they could tolerate for the sake of the Kin-dom. Here at Foundry over the past several years we have grappled with this dynamic and have taken the risk to strategically invest in new things for the sake of our vision and mission. In 2015, when it became clear that we needed to develop ministries to deepen faith and help folks connect with God and one another, we added staff positions in family and connecting ministries to guide that work. The growth experienced because of this investment—and the ongoing discernment around faithful next steps to strengthen our ministry—resulted in our splitting the “connecting” ministry area into new Discipleship and Hospitality and Care ministry departments this year…and we also added musicians to our worship and improved our online presence and live stream experience. These investments have been risky—we have drawn upon limited reserves to help cover the costs—but we have been practicing fearless giving toward these ministries with faith that those investments would bring about beautiful returns. Our investment is working; our stewardship booklet provides a snapshot of the ways our investments in social justice, family, worship and music, discipleship, and hospitality and care ministries are changing lives. Your generosity over the past several years together with the strategic investment of reserves is making amazing things happen. Our fearless giving is a way we are practicing fearless living—we’re risking something significant for the sake of something more significant.
As we look into 2019, we are committed to sending a strong contingent of Foundry folk to the special called General Conference in St. Louis to bear witness to the love of God for all people and the call to full inclusion for LGBTQ persons. We know we need to strengthen our communications both internally and externally in order to reach new people and more diverse people and are planning to add the staff person approved by the Board for this purpose. Increased investments of time and money will be directed toward our racial justice and sacred resistance work in 2019. We’re expanding our music department to offer even more amazing special musical offerings—as a way to invite new people to our community and to fulfill our call to transcendent worship. This is just a small part of the vision that God is stirring among us and it will only happen through each one of us engaging in fearless giving as a way to practice fearless living. It is never an easy thing to do—as individuals or as communities.
And in our story today, Jesus teaches it’s especially hard for those with wealth to enter the Kin-dom of God (which I understand not as “getting into heaven someday” but rather experiencing life as God intends it on earth as in heaven). To be clear, Jesus doesn’t say wealthy people can’t enter Kin-dom life. I’m privy to folks with wealth giving abundantly and joyfully to serve others and promote justice, mercy, and love. This is a powerful witness! I’ll never forget the woman—not a person you might imagine having wealth just by looking at her plain, chain-smoking self—saying to me, “I feel so fortunate that I can give so much!” I’ve had folks in high-earning jobs who struggle to participate in the hands-on ministries of the church due to their work demands say, “My generous giving is the way I get to be a full participant in our ministry.” Those gifts are game-changers for our shared ministry.
So you see, it’s not that wealthy folks can’t participate in the Kin-dom. But Jesus does say it will be hard. Because of the seductive power of wealth, because it is to easy to fall in love with money, because of the false sense of security that wealth provides, because the more money people have the easier it is to focus on serving the self and not the needs of others. And can you see how a focus on these things breeds fear? You don’t have to be super rich to fall into this trap. It becomes very easy to spend on ourselves or our family and give very little if anything to the work of God through the church. A woman in one of my former congregations shared a personal revelation: she made a priority of taking a big trip every year that always cost more than ten thousand dollars, but was giving a fraction of that amount to the church. It had never occurred to her before, this disparity. Her commitment became that she would give at least as much to the work of the Kin-dom as she gave to herself for the annual vacation.
If you find yourself feeling twitchy about my talking about money and giving money to the church, know you’re in good company. Discomfort with the conversation has been around a long time—at least since the encounter between Jesus and the man in our story today. And if you’re uncomfortable I want to invite you to pay attention to that; it’s likely to do with your experience of money in your life—if you’ve had it or struggled to get by; the discomfort is likely to do with some fear or another—I won’t even try to name all the possible fears that connect up with our experience of money and possessions (my personal list is too long to share!). Somehow, the conversation about money in church can touch us in some pretty tender places. God knows what’s going on and is with you… It is instructive to pay attention to the discomfort, anger, anxiety that may erupt in our spirit when confronted with Jesus who forces the issue. Our fears can keep us from fully experiencing the joy, meaning, and liberation that is possible. Fearless living is connected to fearless giving. Tara named it for us last week and this week’s Gospel affirms it’s true.
Tara also said, “As is written in Matthew, ‘where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’ Giving to the work of Foundry is a way to imagine a world that is not built on fear, but one that is built on the loving uplift of [God’s] Kin-dom. We put our finances and time into that creation because we see at Foundry that God’s fearless love makes all things possible.” Today we heard a story of a person who turned away from the invitation to give fearlessly so that he might live fearlessly. My prayer is that at Foundry—both as individuals and as a congregation—we’ll have the courage to trust God enough to make a different choice for the sake of the Kin-dom.
[i] https://caloriebee.com/nutrition/10-Poisonous-Berries-That-Can-Kill-You
Sunday Oct 07, 2018
Sunday Oct 07, 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.
Monday Oct 01, 2018
Monday Oct 01, 2018
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.