92.4K
Downloads
667
Episodes
Foundry is an historic, progressive United Methodist Church that welcomes all, worships passionately, challenges the status quo, & seeks to transform the world.
Episodes
Sunday Nov 12, 2017
Sunday Nov 12, 2017
A sermon preached by Rev. Will Green at Foundry United Methodist Church in Washington D.C. on Sunday, November 12, 2017.
Text: Ruth 1:7-18
Today we begin a new sermon series as part of our "Faith: Remastered" annual theme, pivoting from John Wesley's historic Rules for Singing and thinking together about how our individual voices and ministries harmonize and enliven Foundry's mission and vision, to a decidedly more modern musical concept. Mashups.
Truly a product of the 20th century, musical mashups fuse the harmonies, lyrics, and melodies of two separate musical pieces into a third, new composition. While retaining individual elements unique to each, a mashup in its truest form has an altogether different identity, oftentimes having rhythms or sounds which serve as the glue that holds sometimes very different songs or genres in vital tension with one another.
Done well, mashups bring new life to otherwise tired melodies and create space for us to hear things we've heard before in a new way. Done poorly, mashups are a gibberish of lyrics and sounds which fail to maintain the integrity of the original pieces involved and result in a confused and...if their like me, consternated, audience (think Will trying to watch "Glee").
There’s perhaps no other musical styling which best fits a focus on the relationships we share with one another and with God. Like a musical mashup, the spaces that exist between us are rife with creative potential, holding in them the opportunity to change and transform us whether in a passing smile on the street or a life-long partnership with one we love. Every relationship is an opportunity to honor the beauty of our individual identities while together becoming something unique and beautiful unto itself.
Likewise, our relationships are equally prone to being problematic, as rife with the potential for chaos and consternation as creativity. Like a bad mashup, relationships turn toxic when we fail to honor another's individuality, slip into patterns which sees each other, in the words of philosopher Immanuel Kant, “as a means to an end rather than an end in themselves,” or fail to remember the importance of every voice in God's song of grace and of life.
And so, over these next few weeks as we consider the biblical mashups between Ruth and Naomi, Cain and Abel, and Samuel and Eli I invite you to bring your whole self to the conversation, honoring the beauty with which you've been created and called Beloved of God, and keeping your eyes open for new opportunities to blend your song, our song, and God's song into a new proclamation of God's love for the world. Let us pray:
The irony of asking a single, gay, 30-something to preach the inaugural sermon in a series about relationships isn't lost on me, especially given the monumental shifts occurring in the ways we date and build relationships with each passing year. Apps like Bumble, Tinder, Hinge, Chappy, OkCupid, and Her, not to mention websites like eHarmony, PlentyOfFish, Match, Compatible Partners, and apps of an even more…dubious…intent like Grindr or Scruff, are used—in theory—to help the overbooked user more easily sort through potential matches than the “old fashioned” way of meeting folk in person.
Take Tinder, for instance. Users create a profile which other users view images they’ve shared and POSSIBLY read a biography, swiping right for if they hope for a match or left on if they hope for a…well, an absence of that person in their dating pool. It seems, these days, that the most pressing theological question we need to ask is what Jesus would have in his Tinder profile. Given that our sanctuary comes pre-set with a profile picture (of dubious accuracy, mind you), I took a stab at writing one on his behalf:
30-something who loves wild, wine-fueled wedding parties with Mom. Enjoys hiking, camping, and fishing with my 12 guy friends...everywhere...all the time. We’re actually kind of a package deal. Takes long walks ON the sea. Adores feet...washing. Feet washing. Just a mostly normal guy who wants to save the world...well, kind of already did, so let's just talk about you![1]
Now, before we dismiss this theological rabbit hole as inconsequential or irreverent, hang with me for just a second. Because in a world where, according to a recent Pew Research Study use of online dating apps and sites has tripled in the last 5 years among populations 18-24 and 55-65, and in which 41% of Americans know someone who actively uses online dating to meet potential partners (and you all do because you're looking at one), there might be something here for us to learn.
Followed to its natural conclusion, I believe it's safe to say that Jesus would have been a profound failure at online dating, not because his credentials would fail him or his stories wouldn't make any first date fascinating, but because it the potential to so quickly reduce the value of human life and wonder of our individual complexity to easily consumed sound bytes and images, allowing those who do use it too often to peruse the concept of another—participating in relationship insofar as it fits our needs, expectations, or desires—without ever actually knowing who the person on the other side of the screen is.
Indeed, the ways in which users feel forced to curate ourselves--picking the perfect picture or even being one of those 53%[2] of users who admit to lying about their weight, height, age, or work on their profile--polishing our self in the hopes of being selected in the great online dating game, denies the beauty of our created being and reduces us to items served up for consumption by a hungry…thirsty, depending on who you're talking to…world. Let alone the fact that multiple studies have revealed an overwhelming increase in judgmental behavior among users both on and off the apps as we constantly engage in the "swiping or scrolling game," shopping while emotionally hungry for some relational fix with a smorgasbord of options and willing to reject at a moment's notice someone who's hair doesn't fall in the right way or who's stats appear to be off-putting.
Now, believe it or not, this is not a sermon against online dating, app culture, or social media. Far from it, these simply provide an easily accessible example of a much more sinister system operative within the human psyche. The temptation, as it were, to reduce ourselves or one another to easily consumed objects who's primary purpose is to satisfy MY desire, fulfill MY need, support MY sense of self, insulate MY perspective, present in almost every facet of our society. This, what I like to call consumptive relational economy, reduces our relationships to transactions which make of our being—physical, emotional, spiritual—commodities to be traded at the expense of authenticity and the Imago Dei, the image of God, we believe each of us bears.
And it's nothing new. Just take our reading today. Sometime after Naomi and her family, who were Isaraelites, had moved to and settled in the land of Moab, all of Naomi's male relatives, including her sons who'd married Moabite women, died. This is critical knowledge for the reader, both because Moabites had been expressly written out of the covenant of Israel for 10 generations following their opposition to the entry of the Israelites into the Promised Land. This is important, both because it meant that Naomi was--due to the death of her husband and sons--left alone in a foreign land which was hostile toward her people and in which her daughters-in-law had very little obligation or reason to care for her, and because the social constructs of the day meant that women were completely dependent upon men in their lives to care and provide for them.
Our pericope pics up with their confrontation of this predicament. On the one hand, Naomi can return to her homeland, abandoning relationship with her daughters in law, and potentially finding protection with her family's husband while Ruth and her sisters in law return to their families and leave behind the family they'd come to know, or they could choose to remain in relationship and run the risk of economic hardship, hunger, homelessness, and rejection from their mutual spiritual and religious communities.
It's no wonder that Naomi so arduously encourages her daughter's in law to return to their mother's homes, and it makes all the more shocking Ruth's steadfast refusal to do so.
“Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go… your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”
I don't know how you cannot hear this as a clear rejection of the consumptive relational economy of her day and an assertion that together the creative and generative potential in their relationship was of far greater value than what they could have apart. Insisting on a new way, she refused to allow herself to fall victim to a world which would reduce her worth the kind of man she was married to, overturned the norms that insisted women were second class players in society, and forged with Naomi a new life which valued equally her worth, their worth, and the opportunities available to them together.
In taking a risk on relationship and rejecting the temptation to treat Naomi as a means to an end or abandon their relationship when the end seemed no longer worth the means, Ruth offers us a new relational economy which honors our individuality the image of God in, and insists the foundation of our human connections must always be the divine potential present in the spaces between us.
Her decision had world-altering implications. The story ends, not with her eventual marriage to Boaz, but with genealogy which links her to King David and, through him, to Jesus Christ. All this, despite the convention that Moabites were supposed to have been rejected from the covenant community with God. Something only possible because she chose the potential of relationship over the transactional engagement the world expected of her.
Like Ruth and Naomi, we are routinely presented with opportunities to participate in consumptive relational economies. From Tinder and the ways we are formed to date and build life-long relationship, to the ways our political, social, and oftentimes religious institutions function, the pressure to perform, to consume, to commodify ourselves and one another is ever present.
It's the way we justify the little white lies and social media performances to attract just one more like or elicit just one more response. How we justify remaining in relationships which are long past a point of health, pretending we're ok out of a fear of what might happen if we weren't. It's the social pressure to forget who we are, what we value, and where we want to be in favor of being seen as part of the in crowd, simultaneously in all of these instances losing ourselves, ignoring our own worth, and using the others around us to create a sense of self just as readily as they are using us.
It's the way well-intentioned white people will proudly proclaim "Black Lives Matter," consuming the struggle and suffering of black and brown peoples in a way that makes us feel good without ever doing the work to deconstruct the white supremacists structures in which we participate and implicitly support. It's the men on my Facebook page who'll post in support of #metoo and then go right back to embodying toxic masculinity which insulates them from being implicated because "they're just not that kind of guy," happy to make themselves feel better in a moment by supporting a 'movement' but unwilling do what it takes to make the change the movement is calling us to make.
And y'all, I don't want to step on any toes here or anything--but y'all know I'm about to--when I say we fall into that same trap playing the game of identity politics, using those on the opposite side of the aisle as a foil to sharpen our wit and insulate us from perspectives other than our own. Reducing individuals into a singular identity which simultaneously serves as justification for our personal political leanings and justifying our own recalcitrance in engage those with whom we might disagree.
Here's the thing: this consumptive relational economy, friends, is tempting. It eliminates the need for vulnerability. It minimizes the risk we take. It allows us control. It makes us feel more secure. It makes the world, and all its peoples and beauty and brokenness much more navigable. And it is entirely counterintuitive to the way we know God to work in the world.
Ruth's refusal of a commodifying, consumptive relationship with Naomi and embrace of the potential that existed between them is simply an example of God's relationship with creation that as Christians we believe culminates in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. In Jesus, what we find is a revelation of divine relationship which rejects the way that world would have us reduce and shape ourselves to fit the needs of others, that celebrates the unique and beautiful way in which we EACH and ALL play a role in the kingdom of God, and in which insists, insists, that all are worthy as they are, where they are, of God's grace, love, and mercy.
Refusing to participate in the transactional, consumptive relational norms, expecting them to curate an identity which was socially acceptable, Jesus met people where they were, as they were. Rather than reducing those around him to their social strata or religious standing, he remained open--even to those who opposed him--to meeting each to what God might do in that encounter. In other words, Jesus was so busy swiping right there was no time to swipe left. Jesus was too busy talking to people to get lost in the endless chatter of messages sent across telephone screens. Jesus was too concerned with creating relationship to get caught up in consuming it.
Jesus' ministry, if it teaches us nothing else about the way we build and sustain relationships, teaches us that we are created for more than the consumptive, constricting, transactional relationships this world attempts to lure us into. Do you know that? You have been created for more. You who are God's beloved, each beautifully made and uniquely known by God. You are worth more. Worth more than a world which would reduce you to a profile picture and 300-word bio, that would constrict you according to your stats or consume you based upon your worth at that next networking event. You are not your title...or the lack thereof. You are not your network or your net worth. You are are a beautiful, beloved child of God, adopted by grace despite all social convention and accepted norm, and capable of world-changing things. And there is no thing in this world, no matter how many swipes left, no matter what boxes the world might tell you check, no matter how often you might feel coerced into curating yourself for the sake someone else's consumption, that will change the fact that you are sufficient, special, and absolutely loved by the One who's lovesong holds the world together.
Rooted in God’s love for us, and ready to insist, as Ruth, on relationships which are more than transactional, we are called to relentlessly reshape our own relationships to do the same. Like Ruth we must allow our very lives to proclaim with clarity and conviction that we who are loved by God will not allow ourselves, or those people whom we meet, to any longer be abused by the consumptive relational economies of this world. This means that we will commit ourselves, as people of faith, to always and in every encounter see one another not as a means to an end, but an end in and of each self. It means we must commit to the kinds of self-examination and personal emotional interrogation that carefully consider why we are engaged in the relationships we have, why we seek to form new ones, and how it is we encounter each other as someone of equally sacred worth to ourselves. Most of all it means that in our swiping and in our scrolling, in our politicking and networking, in our advocacy and in our works of mercy insisting on, investing in, and striving for a life which affirms and reaffirms the Imago Dei in every person we meet.
[1] Many thanks to the help of Rev. Melissa Meyer, MJ Jean, and Breanna Dahl for helping to workshop this idea.
[2] accessed Nov 9, 2017: https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-mating-game/201609/the-ugly-truth-about-online-dating
Sunday Nov 05, 2017
Sunday Nov 05, 2017
A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC November 5, 2017, celebration of All Saints Day.
Text: Ephesians 1:11-23
“Bright morning star”—what a beautiful phrase. Each word in itself radiates light: bright…morning…star. The “star” referred to in this phrase is actually a planet (Venus) that can be seen in the East brightly reflecting the light of the Sun just before dawn. Down through the ages star gazers have noted this phenomenon. There is an Appalachian folk song [we heard this morning] that picks up on the image, connecting it to the next life—the resurrection life—promised through Jesus Christ. The song both mournfully and hopefully cries—“where are our dear fathers, mothers, children? They have gone to heaven, dancing, praying, shouting…day is a’ breakin’ in my soul…” Maybe it’s the strong strain of Ozark roots in my blood, but this lyric and melody always comes to mind as we near the celebration of All Saints Day. Resurrection, new life, day breaking to bring light into the darkness… The bright morning star is our sure sign that the sun will rise, giving us another day, another chance; the sun will rise assuring us that we are not destined to live in darkness; the sun will rise to bring light even into troubled times, even into the shadows of death, leading even those who have left this life into the promise of a new day, a new life beyond the veil.
In other words, the bright morning star is a sign of hope. Our reading from the epistle of Ephesians speaks of hope saying: “I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ… may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places…” (Eph. 1:17-20).
On this day we celebrate All Saints and, above all, this day is about hope. All Saints is an observance that began as a commemoration of all those martyrs from the early persecutions of Christianity whose names were never recorded and whose memory was in constant peril of being lost. Over time, this celebration was extended to remember all who have lived and died in the faith and now rest eternally and triumphantly from their labors. We continue this aspect of the celebration when we name those persons who have died in the last year and live now in the glory of God.
A second dimension of the word “saint” was added through the years by reclaiming the New Testament confession that all those who have been baptized into Christ and declared righteous by grace are, in fact, living saints of God. If we pay attention to Paul’s writings, we will quickly understand that this doesn’t mean that “living saints” are perfect in any way—Paul addresses even the Christians in Corinth, those whom he has rebuked and castigated for many and various moral offenses, as saints, or holy ones (1 Cor. 1:1-9). This understanding of what a “saint” is has more to do with what GOD does for us and less to do with what WE are able to do ourselves…that is, to be a “saint” is to know ourselves beloved and embraced by God’s grace. This aspect of what it means to be a saint—to be one who is so deeply beloved that Jesus was willing to die in order to show us that we need not fear the grave or any darkness—allows us to see and celebrate our union with those for whom Christ died in every time and every place: we are among the living saints of God who are connected in God’s love to all God’s beloved…Communion of the Saints!
What will come to mind for many when we think of “saints” are those exemplary persons throughout history who have acted with such courage, love, mercy, and wisdom that they inspire our deep admiration and our desire to emulate their lives. Just as we ask people in this life to pray for us, there are many who ask that saints living the resurrection life pray for us as well…
In all of these understandings of saints, the common denominator is hope. And that hope is made possible through Jesus Christ who proves to us that God’s love is stronger than death, stronger than any shadow or darkness. Jesus is the Son who rises to bring light. We can celebrate today that our loved ones who have passed into the next life are living in the light of God. We can celebrate today that Christ’s light so permeates our world that there are those whose lives show forth God’s mercy, love, and wisdom—proving our own capacity to do the same. And we can celebrate today that because of God’s love, poured out for us freely and fully in Jesus, we live in hope for our own lives and for the life of the world—we need not live in fear. God’s grace shines on us and through us, granting each of us a new beginning, a fresh start, a new life each and every day! Bright morning star is rising! Not only on the other side of death, but day is also breaking in our own souls. We celebrate today that a new day will dawn when our Communion with God and with all the saints, our Communion with generations past and generations yet unborn, will be brought to fruition around the banquet table of God. Oh what a day of reunion and communion!
Today, as we gather at the Table of Communion with God, we join our voices to the unending chorus of faith and praise. And the beautiful promise is that standing and speaking and singing with us are all those who have sojourned with us on earth and now continue their journey with Christ in the heavenly places. All are one in thee, O God, for all are thine! Thanks be to God!
Sunday Oct 29, 2017
Sunday Oct 29, 2017
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 29, 2017, Consecration Sunday and the final Sunday in the “I Am Foundry: Voices in Harmony” series.
Texts: Psalm 96, Philippians 4:1-9
Why? That is one of the most important words—one of the most powerful questions—in the work of being and becoming human. Any parent knows that there is a long developmental season when their child asks “Why?” again and again and again. It is the way we learn; it is the way we begin to understand the relationship of things and our place in the world. Mentors and business innovators and educators agree that asking “why?” is a critical piece of expanding the mind, imagining something new, and discerning priorities.
Sometimes, as we grow up, we stop asking the question. This happens in all sorts of contexts for a variety of reasons. Dr. Ronald Vale—a professor of cellular and molecular pharmacology at the University of California—describes his observation of trends in science classrooms. He says that the approach to teaching science is to “Learn the facts and don't deviate from that script.” He goes on to say, “Young children are full of questions, spawned by true curiosity rather than a desire to impress. But over the course of their education, students and adults ask fewer questions and more passively accept facts as ‘the way things are.’”[i]
I was struck by this because it rings true across so many areas of life. I’ve heard plenty of stories about how folks were taught that asking questions in church was not allowed, that the mode of instruction—much like what Dr. Vale describes—was to provide answers to be memorized and accepted “as the way things are.” As we grow, it seems the tendency is to stop asking so many questions and settle into “the way things are” mode. We may stop asking questions because we think we have the answers. We may refrain from asking questions because we assume we’re supposed to know the answers already and that others know the answers—and we don’t want to appear ignorant. // It is powerful—at any point along life’s journey—to stop and ask the question, “Why?” Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Why does this matter? Asking “Why?” opens up all sorts of helpful conversations and can lead to greater clarity, collaboration, and freedom.
Foundry is a community that believes in the power of questions, of wrestling with ideas, of being honest about what we’re thinking, of exploring things from a variety of perspectives. And we also realize that even a community like Foundry can fall into habits that, without meaning to, might discourage folks from asking questions. This year at Foundry, our hope is to make space to ask questions, to explore some of the foundational stories, teachings, and practices of Christian faith without taking for granted that everyone “already knows” them. Today, the question is “Why do we sing?”
This month we’ve been thinking about our identity and call as Foundry Church, we’ve been thinking about how our voices in harmony—our different personalities, experiences, gifts, talents—are essential to the vitality and impact of Foundry’s life and mission. John Wesley’s “Directions for Singing” have inspired, amused, and reminded us that we are called to share a common song, to be connected to one another, to participate and join in.
Today’s direction is the final word from Wesley about how to sing together and it pretty clearly answers—from a literal standpoint—the question about why we sing. Wesley writes, “Above all sing spiritually. Have an eye to God in every word you sing. Aim at pleasing God more than yourself, or any other creature. In order to do this attend strictly to the sense of what you sing, and see that your heart is not carried away with the sound, but offered to God continually...”
We sing in worship as an offering to God—specifically as a way to offer our heart to God. Also, the admonition to “have an eye to God in every word you sing” and to “attend strictly to the sense of what you sing” reminds us that the words and their theological meaning are important as well. We sing to both learn about and proclaim our faith. In this direction for singing (as in all of them), there is an inherent connection between the heart and the head, between the cognitive power of the words and the emotional power of the music. This strong, intentional focus on connecting heart and head, passion and good thinking, is a distinctive mark of our Methodist spiritual tradition from the beginning. Singing together is a primary way we practice that connection.
So, we sing to offer our praise and our hearts to God in worship, to proclaim our faith in God, and to join our voices with others in a shared song. But even here we can ask the question, “Why?” Why is God worthy of praise? Why does this faith need to be proclaimed? Why does it matter if my voice joins with others?
The only way to answer to these questions is to look to the core of our faith story. And that is where we began back in September as we set the stage for our year-long exploration of faith using the language and metaphor of music. We began with a 101 course in music composition, applying it as a metaphor for the life that God creates. In that metaphor, the life we share and the whole creation is God’s love song. Foundational biblical stories— the creation, the flood and rainbow, Moses and the burning bush, and the exodus from Egypt—give us the framework for understanding not only the essential elements of God’s love song, but also how our lives are part of the song. Here is what we learned:
God’s creative love is the “melody,” God’s saving grace is the “rhythm,” and God’s empowering, eternal presence with us is the ostinato, the “stubborn” repeated reality undergirding the song. We are made to sing, dance, live, love, and serve in harmony with God, other people, and earth. God’s overflowing love—wanting to be shared, powerful to create and recreate life, to wake us up and set us free—is the center of the song, the connecting point. There is tension in the song…but resolution happens when we cross over whatever it is that keeps us separated from God’s love and enter the freedom of being fully received into the welcoming arms of God.
Friends, we sing because God has given us this amazing song to sing, a song of love, a song of grace, a song of presence, a song of liberation. The God who composes this song, who grants us new life every day, who forgives us again and again, who never leaves nor forsakes us, who calls us to do scary and beautiful things, who leads us forward into freedom—this God is worthy of songs of praise. This story of love and grace, liberation and justice is a proclamation worth sharing!
Last week, Pastor Dawn, preaching on the gospel story of Jesus sending out 70 of his disciples to proclaim the Kin-dom of God (Lk 10:1-9), reminded us that our collective call is to get shaken out of our seats to carry the good news of God into the world—to be the “surround sound” speakers of God’s grace and liberating power in every place that we go. Why is it important for us to do that, to add our “voice” to God’s song? Because our lives may be the only gospel other people ever read. Your love, your hope, your mercy, your ability to rejoice even in difficult times because of God’s promises—that witness might change someone’s life for the better.
It matters that we add our voice—that we participate and share our time, talent, and treasure with Foundry—because without our collective power—without the harmony of the whole—we cannot change lives and change the world as we are called to do. There is powerful change happening in and through Foundry. Since implementing A Disciple’s Path as our entry point for new members, we are seeing an uptick in sustained connection with the church. Of those who have joined Foundry since August of 2016, 92% are actively engaged in ministry—most in at least two different areas. Three folks are exploring candidates for ordained and consecrated ministry, five have planted small groups, eight are ministry team leaders. 39% of new members are involved in small groups! In the past 10 months, Foundry has helped launch Sanctuary DMV, trained folks in rapid response in solidarity with vulnerable populations, created a Sacred Resistance Ministry, stood in solidarity with Bishop Karen Oliveto and T.C. Morrow and advocated for affirmation and full inclusion of LGBTQ people in the United Methodist Church, been written up in the Post for our life-giving ID Ministry, furnished a home for a previously unhoused family, offered unconscious bias training, coordinated tours of The National Museum of African American History and Culture with guiding questions developed by our Racial Justice Ministry, and re-energized our connection with Washington Interfaith Network. Our children, youth, and families are getting a wider range of experience in worship and education through the addition of classes, children’s worship, and a youth retreat with so many young people that our Director of Family Ministries is scrambling to find enough transportation to get them all there! Foundry has provided guidance and inspiration to people through our hospitality and inclusion, through our livestreaming of music and preaching, through our pastoral statements and congregational stances in response to the critical issues of the day. In other words, Foundry is as important as ever—not only to those of us who worship here, but to all those whose lives are touched by the harmony we create when we sing, share, and serve together.
Today, if your life has been impacted for the better through Foundry church or if you are inspired by what Foundry stands for and who Foundry stands with; if you are a regular worshipper here in our sanctuary or part of our virtual congregation through livestream, I am asking you to find the estimate of giving cards (in the pew or on the website…) and write down what you want to contribute in 2018 to support Foundry. In a few moments we will create harmony through singing and through bringing these estimate of giving cards forward or confirming them online. It is impossible to overemphasize how important our shared ministry of stewardship is—and these commitments are the single most critical piece of that stewardship. What we give sustains this community through which we can be good stewards of our time and talent. Last year we had 395 pledges and this year our goal is a 25% increase to help us raise $1.6 million. To date, we have received 107 pledges for a total of $700,000. You may have noticed the stepped graph in our “I Am Foundry: Voices in Harmony” booklet that reveals the giving breakdown of our congregation. We have many people who are giving generously and carrying much of the financial load. But for almost half of our membership we have no record of any gift. If those more than 650 folks were to make a commitment—even of $5 or $10 per week—our financial picture would look even stronger.
We at Foundry sing together literally and figuratively to love God, love each other, and change the world. And the world needs changing. So we sing! We sing through our prayers. We sing through our study. We sing through our service. We sing through our advocacy. We sing through our solidarity. We sing through our care. We sing through our financial support. We sing because children in our human family are hungry, because siblings are abused, because sisters are sold, because brothers are bullied, because cousins are profiled, because mother earth is poisoned. In a world gone mad, its values resting upon idols and illusions, we sing a song that echoes what is true, honorable, just, pure, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. Our song is God’s love song and it has power to heal, to mend, and to bring new life. We are those privileged to know that God’s love and faithfulness are new every morning. So sing the song. Sing with all you’ve got. Because right now, you—we!—are who God’s got in this beautiful, broken world.
[i] Ronald D. Vale, “The value of asking questions,” https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3596240/
Sunday Oct 22, 2017
Sunday Oct 22, 2017
A sermon preached by Rev. Dawn M. Hand on October 22, 2017 at Foundry United Methodist Church in Washington DC.
Scripture: Ephesians 2:13-22, Luke 10:1-9
Ephesians 2:13-22
13But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.
14For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. 15He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, 20built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 21In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Luke 10:1-9
10After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. 2He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. 3Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. 5Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ 6And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. 7Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you;9cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’
Sunday Oct 15, 2017
Sunday Oct 15, 2017
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC October 15, 2017, the second sermon in the series: “I Am Foundry: Voices in Harmony.”
Texts: Romans 12:1-8, Matthew 16:13-20
“Who do people say that I am?” Have you ever consciously stopped to ask yourself that question? If not, think about it for just a minute…who do people say that you are? What do you suppose guides others in their perceptions of you? What guides you in your perceptions of others? Who do people say that I am? is a question of identity and relationship and how it gets answered makes a difference in our lives.
One of the great needs of all humans is to be understood, to be accepted, to be loved just exactly for who we are. The great spiritual writer Henri Nouwen speaks of this as the need to be “fully received” or unconditionally loved.[i] Most of us spend our whole life searching for a person with whom we can risk sharing who we really are, trusting that we might finally be “fully received.”
The journey toward being “fully received” involves a maturing awareness of our own sense of who we are—of our own identity. In other words, part of our spiritual work is to answer the question, “Who do I say that I am?” Who am I? If you desire deep and mutual relationship with anyone, you will need to be able to offer yourself as a gift—just as you will try to receive the other as a gift. If we are to give ourselves to each other in love, we need to know the “self” that we are giving—otherwise, the relationship can get twisted and we lose ourselves instead of finding ourselves in relationship.
I’ve observed that we often depend upon what others say to define our identity. To fulfill societal, religious, parental, or professional expectations of who we are, we may focus on the outward appearances of our lives. Or we may try to make ourselves into something we are not. Reasons for this are many: fear of not being enough; fear of disappointing others; fear of ridicule or rejection. We may get so focused on others’ real or imagined perceptions of us and their expectations of us that we forget that we are more than the perceptions, expectations, or labels that others give us. There is an “I” that is you. And that “I” is who we, at Foundry, want to help you celebrate, nurture, and share. Because you are God’s beloved.
As we continue in our “I Am Foundry: Voices in Harmony” series, today’s focus is on the “I.” Your unique voice is important and encouraged. John Wesley’s “Directions for Singing” that we began exploring last week are, at their core, about inviting and valuing every voice. We read the fourth direction earlier in our worship today. And the first part of that—just as a recap—is: “Sing lustily and with good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength.” This is a clear invitation to bring yourself fully, to add your voice to the voices of others without fear and with courage. The second part reads, “Be no more afraid of your voice now, nor more ashamed of its being heard, then when you sung the songs of Satan.” This is simply a reminder to bring yourself as fully and freely to life with God and the church as you do in the other places and communities. Much of what we are working on at Foundry as we lean into our third century, are ways to help you do just that—to help people connect to their true identity as unique, beloved children of God, to create opportunities for each one to connect with God and others in mutuality and trust, and to remove obstacles to full participation in servant leadership and generosity. Foundry exists to care for each “I.” And without each one of us, there is no Foundry; without “I” there is no singing. Every voice, every unique individual, every gift of service, kindness, and money contributes to the song we are called to sing.
I find it fascinating that Jesus asks his disciples this question: Who do people say that I am? Jesus is aware of the ways that people label and pigeonhole according to their expectations, based on their wishes, their half-baked self-awareness, their prejudice, or their preconceived notions. He knows that it is profoundly human to see only in part, to misunderstand and to misjudge. So he is curious: Who do people say that I am? And the responses are that he is John the Baptist or Elijah or Jeremiah or another prophet. And I wonder whether the disciples are being kind by not mentioning the other things that people are probably saying about Jesus—things like “he’s a weirdo” or “a magician,” or “a troublemaker.” But Jesus seems unmoved by what he is hearing (though I imagine he might have been amused), and quickly shifts the question to the disciples themselves. “Yes, yes, that’s what they are saying, but who do YOU, my closest friends, say that I am?” The writer Kathleen Norris talks about how sometimes our words are wiser than we are.[ii] That is, sometimes when we speak out of a place of intuition and spiritual impulse, the words that come out of our mouths have a truth and power that we don’t even fully understand. In response to Jesus’s question, Simon speaks with words that are wiser than he is: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” In that moment, we see that Simon son of Jonah has tapped into one of his gifts, a part of his truest identity: an openness to the wisdom and revelation of God.
Notice what happens in this exchange between Simon and Jesus: Simon sees through all the labels and pre-conceived notions heaped upon Jesus—and names the deepest, truest identity of Jesus. And Jesus does the same for Simon—Jesus gives Simon a new name, a true name, a revelation and affirmation of his identity. The new name was “Peter” which means rock or stone. Jesus names this disciple’s strength, affirms his gift of openness to God’s wisdom and proceeds to place in his hands some hefty authority and responsibility. With gifts always comes responsibility…
We may yearn for a clear and direct word from Jesus telling us or affirming who we are. I imagine many of us would be at least curious to know how God sees us, what gifts God sees in us, what work God has for us and whether our lives as they are today have anything to do with who God knows we are. Some might get a little frustrated that Peter gets such unmitigated direction when we, so often, are unsure... But I would remind us that Simon didn’t get his new name and divine direction while he was just minding his own business. He had responded to the call of Jesus and had given his life to follow and learn and serve according to the Way of Christ. That is to say, if you find yourself wondering what name Jesus would give you, wondering how God sees you, what gifts God discerns in you, maybe you might consider how open you are to Christ, how close you are in relationship, how willing you are to metaphorically add your voice to God’s song, to “put yourself out there” to try to follow the spiritual path of Jesus.
What we learn from Simon Peter today is that, in the midst of living with Jesus—and for us that is through service, participation in faith community, and spiritual practices—we may begin to utter words that are wiser than we are, we may find ourselves connecting with our gifts. Something about journeying with this One who is truly and beautifully human helps us discover the beauty and truth of our own humanity; as we come to know Jesus more deeply and personally, the mystery is that we come to know ourselves more deeply. Think about being in a mutual, loving, trusting relationship with someone…in that relationship you are not diminished—but rather you discover even more of yourself. Being in a close relationship with Christ, the one who loves you perfectly, you will come to know yourself most deeply and fully. It’s like as we gaze upon the light that is Christ, that light shines back upon us enlightening our hearts and minds so that we can see more clearly… So as Jesus the Christ shines upon you, who is revealed? Who does God say that you are?
The answer may very well be something different than who others say that you are. It also may be different than who you say you are. If you look into the mirror and only see your brokenness or past mistakes, if you see a person who has no purpose or direction, if you see a person who is too weak or ill to matter, if you only see a disappointment, if you only see the labels or messages or slurs that others have placed upon you, if you see a person who believes the abuse is deserved, if you see a person who has no gift to offer, then (I will be bold to say) you are not seeing as God sees. While Christ certainly sees our brokenness and our pain, Christ also sees us put together, sees us whole, integrated, and free to live and lift up our voice as who we truly are with courage and confidence. Christ sees beyond all the labels, the masks, the roles we play and knows who we truly are. Christ is the one in whom we are “fully received,” fully known and loved beyond measure. Who do you suppose Christ sees in you? Who does God say that you are?
I don’t know the answer for you, but as you journey with Christ, I believe you will find that you have always known, deep in your center. The trick is clearing away all the layers of labels and expectations, the depression and fear, to see and listen to the voice of Christ within. This is the most important work we are given to do. It is important because God created us to be who we are; and who we truly are is meant to be a gift to others. We have been given gifts…and with gifts come responsibility to use and to share those gifts. God needs you to be who you are; the world needs you to be who you are; Foundry needs you to be who you are. To hear Christ calling your name and to live from that place of deepest truth will not always be easy, but there is a peace and freedom that comes from knowing who calls you and from trusting that, in Christ, you are “fully received.”
Sing lustily and with good courage…lift up your voice with strength. Be no more afraid…
Let us pray: Loving Jesus, speak to each person here today from deep within; reveal our true identities; and grant us courage to BE who we are, to offer the gift of ourselves fully and freely to one another and to the world, just as you offer yourself to us. Amen.
[i] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love, New York, NY: Doubleday, 1998.
[ii] Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace, A Vocabulary of Faith, New York, NY: Berkley Pub., 1998.