I’VE GOT A SECRET Acts 9: 1-15 February 17, 2008 First preached by Barbara Jean Sawyer, June, 1992
Bishop Leontine Kelly, the first black woman to be elected bishop in the United Methodist Church, is a model and a mentor for me. Often, when I am with Leontine Kelly, I find myself saying, “When I grow up I want to be just like Leontine Kelly.”
Leontine Kelly is a preacher. In my wildest fantasies I have imagined myself as a preacher (many lay people do). Now I’m not talking about imagining myself to be a . . . preacher, I’m talking about a “gr-r-reat” preacher. When I was a little kid my parents took me to hear Billy Graham. While other kids were making idols out of Roy Rodgers or Dale Evans, I day dreamed about Billy Graham. When other children were having tea parties, I begged my grandmother to play church. I was always the preacher . . . she, my adoring congregation.
Last year Leontine was scheduled to preach at the Older Adult Convocation. I contacted her for her text, and the title of her sermon. She gave me the text she had selected immediately. When I asked for a title, she hesitated and then responded . . .”I’ll give you a title, but what I think I’m planning to preach and what the Holy Spirit leads me to preach are often two different things.” Leontine pays attention to the guidance she receives from the SPIRIT. When I grow up I want to be just like Leontine Kelly.
I’ve heard Leontine Kelly preach many, many times. She never seems to use notes. When I grow up I want to be just like Leontine Kelly . . . in the meantime I have a script.
I trust that the SPIRIT will be found in the words that I have to share with you tonight. I trust that the SPIRIT that moves Leontine Kelly is the same SPIRIT that moves me. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight oh Lord. Amen.
This and other services being held across the country are designed to be a response to what happened at General Conference. I went to General Conference . . . I was there. I was there because the Conference Personnel Committee thought it would be a good continuing education experience. I was there because there were a number of things that I felt passionately about . . . the Native American Initiative, the Hispanic Ministry proposal, the new Book of Worship, the abortion issue, the new health care proposal from the Board of Pensions, the question about whether or not the General Board of Global Ministry would remain in New York City. I cared about all of those things AND I cared deeply about what the General Conference would do with the Report from the Study Committee on Homosexuality.
Something happened to me at General conference! On the way home I wrote a sermon about the experience. It was one of those sermons that sort of wrote itself. I expected to preach that sermon someday. When I learned that there were Services of Reconciliation being planned, both here and in Estacada and in Salem, and when I was asked to preach, I thought I was going to preach THAT sermon.
But when I pulled that General Conference sermon from my file and began to rethink it, I knew I wasn’t going to preach that sermon tonight. As I read it I knew that writing that sermon had simply been a dress rehearsal. I knew it had been one more step in my “coming out” process . . . both as a LESBIAN and as a PREACHER.
There. I’ve said it. Many suspected it, and now I have said it. I AM A LESBIAN. I’ve said it in the church.
I said it to myself years ago and I did not die. I said it to God and I didn’t die. I said it to my friends and I said it to my mother. She kept breathing, and I didn’t die. It was a close call for both of us. But, I’ve never said it in the church.
I can’t even begin to describe to you what it feels like to stand here and say it out loud to you tonight. I am a lesbian. The secret is out. I have said it out loud . . . I said it in the church . . . and we’re all still alive.
Why am I saying it now when I haven’t said it before? Nothing has changed. The church is no less homophobic today than it was yesterday. The General Conference has not altered its position in the slightest in terms of gay men, lesbians and bisexual persons. It is no safer this week than it was last. Nothing has changed; the world around me is the same, but . . . something has changed, something has changed in me. It happened at General Conference.
I’ve had a conversion experience of sorts, and I, like Paul following his conversion with the “living Christ,” will never be the same.
While I was at General Conference I visited the Cokesbury display, and I bought a book by Bishop John Spong entitled Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism. I had heard about the book; I had read Spong’s book entitled Living in Sin: A Bishop Rethinks Sexuality; and I was curious about what this relatively radical thinker had to say about scripture.
John Shelby Spong, a bishop in the Episcopal Church, does not take the Bible literally . . . he does take it seriously. In his introduction he writes: “. . . I write as a Christian who loves the church. I am not a hostile critic who stands outside religion desiring to make fun of it . . . I am a bishop. . . . When I left fundamentalism, I did not leave my love of the bible or my desire to serve God through the church.” His words speak to my experience.
Spong writes that in order for the Bible to have meaning in his life that he must understand the human experiences that are within the stories that lie behind any distortions rationalization, or imposed theological formations that may exist. He says it is not only OK, but essential for us as modern, thinking Christians, to use the Bible and all the tools at our disposal, as we search for meaning in our lives, and ultimately, as we search for God. Bishop Spong gives me permission to use the biblical account of the conversion of Paul to examine, understand, and share my own experience.
In writing about Christ, resurrection, and grace from a Biblical perspective, Spong explores the Damascus experience of Paul. He seeks to understand a “real” human being, a man, to see all there is to see and hear all there is to hear in the world of the Epistles attributed to Paul, the Book of Acts, and the mythology of Saint Paul bestowed by institutional Christianity.
Spong climbs into Paul’s life, to find and feel his humanity, to recognize his pain, and, from that perspective, to understand who Christ was for Paul AND who Christ can be for us.
Who was Paul? Paul could never be called a “universal man.” He was clearly a man of his time. His writings reflect assumptions common to his day. Paul thought women inferior.
Paul accepted uncritically the patriarchal attitudes of his day toward women and the cultural reality of slavery. I find contradictions in some of Paul’s writings—Paul believed men and women were better off single, yet he compared the relationship of Christ and the Church to marriage.
What I read of Paul convinces me that Paul did not like himself very much. His words reflect his self loathing over and over again. He wrote: [beginning at Romans 7:14, NT page 157]
I am carnal, sold under sin; I do not understand my own actions. [Romans 7:14-15].
Nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. [Romans 7:18].
I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin. [Romans 7:23].
With my flesh I serve the law of sin. [Romans 7:25].
These are harsh words, words that don’t seem consistent with a man who knows himself to be accepted by God.
Spong suggests that these passages can be seen as a confession of a sexual passion beyond Paul’s control, a part of his very being about which he feels so profoundly guilty that it becomes self-loathing.
Here is a man who judges himself, a man who believes himself deserving of wrath because he believes himself under the control of evil powers, his body a slave to sin.
I no longer believe that I can blame “evil powers” for my unwillingness to be all that God intends for me to be, but I certainly identify with Paul for having adopted the condemnation of his society and his religious traditions and values. I squirm with him in the small closet his beliefs create for him.
PAUL HAS A SECRET! He doesn’t tell us what his secret is, but he alludes to it. . . .He writes, “A thorn was given me in the flesh . . . Who will deliver me from this body of death”? [Romans 7:14]
All of us know the ways in which we are like Paul. All of us have secrets. Our secrets lock us up. We swallow our own keys. Rather than face the condemnation of one another, the world outside our closed doors, we isolate, stagnate, and shrivel up in the darkness of our won closets. And, in the darkness our secrets grow to gigantic proportions and our fears become monstrous.
“You have to be perfect, don’t make mistakes!” “What if someone discovers I am gay?” “Please, don’t tell anybody,” my straight friends whisper to me, “it isn’t safe.” “You’ll be judged!” “It will divide the church!” “Someone will be angry!” “Hide!” “Hide!” “I have to hide!”
If you are good, I will give you bits and pieces of myself. I will test you to see if you are safe. I will let you peek through the key hold until I am sure you are worthy of my trust. . . . WHY? Because I have come to believe that what you, or someone else, think about me is more important than what I think about myself. That what you “know” is more important than what I know. I have come to concur with your assumption that you can define who I am, that your truth is truer than mine.
Thank God we have Paul’s whole story. Thank God my story is not over.
Thank God Paul, this man who had so little regard for himself, this man who persecuted others, this man who murdered, imprisoned, and behaved so hatefully, this man whose opinion of himself was loathsome, discovered that God’s opinion was the opinion that counted.
It is amazing in the light of what the Christian Church has to say about homosexuality for someone like me to look at Paul’s story.
Paul didn’t change who he was before God came to him, before God claimed him. I want to share again the scriptures as they are written regarding the Damascus event in Paul’s life, beginning with the third verse in the ninth chapter of Acts:
Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Now get up and go into the city and you will be told what to do.”
The Christian church has interpreted those words, “Why are you persecuting me,” to mean, why are you persecuting the church? We have assumed that Christ was confronting Paul because Christ was interested in protecting the Church . . . . That Paul’s conversion was designed to halt the persecution of that church. Now I believe that God is a God of community, and that God certainly used Paul to build up the church, but I am suggesting the possibility that Paul’s conversation was a profoundly personal experience, between Paul and God. That God’s confrontation with Paul had less to do with the protection of the Church than it did with God’s ability to love Paul unconditionally.
Jesus did not say to Paul, “Stop, quit persecuting the Christians and I will be with you.” Jesus said, “I am Jesus, whim you are persecuting . . . now get up go into the city and you will be told what to do.” If we were to continue to read Paul’s story in the ninth chapter of Acts we would learn that Jesus says to Ananias, in a vision, to go and lay hands on Paul. When Ananias objects out of fear, the Lord says to him,”Go, for he (Paul)) in an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.”
I need to believe God confronted Paul, not because the church needed saving, but because God loved Paul, simple as that.
That is the essence of the Gospel. God loves us . . . individually . . . personally . . . . specifically. Nothing Paul could do, or be, placed him outside the love of God present in Jesus the Christ.
Somehow that message broke through the hostile, hiding, vindictive, fearful Paul. That message, the message that he was loved by God, had all the force of an exploding, blinding light at midday. What the law couldn’t do for Paul, what Paul couldn’t do for himself, the grace of God did. Paul was justified. Paul was loved. Paul was accepted. Nothing could separate him from the love of God.
And the wonder is. . . that message is still being delivered to people today. People like me.
I heard it at General Conference. It came to me as members of the Study Committee on Homosexuality were sharing, at a luncheon sponsored by the Reconciling Congregation Program, the important elements one should include in a local church study on homosexuality. Tex Sample, a very liberal theologian spoke. He said that the most important thing is to create a “home,” a place where people can feel like they are accepted no matter what they do or think. Dr. David Seamands, a conservative Biblical traditionalist spoke. He said the most important thing was to read the Bible faithfully, to guide people to understand the bible from a traditional Christian perspective. I asked David Seamands a question, I don’t remember the question, but I do remember he answered me in a paternal, yet very gentle and pastoral way. Unfortunately, I found myself wondering how David Seamands would respond to me if David Seamands really KNEW me. I quit listening to David Seamands and discovered myself “watching” David Seamands, being “suspicious” of David Seamands, “judging” David Seamands, through the keyhole of my closet.
As that session came to a close we sang together a song written by John Rice, entitled Walk with Me. You have the words. John Rice is a gay man who writes longingly for people to join him in the ministry of reconciliation. As we began to sing the words, God opened the door to my closet.
Walk with me, God said to me . . . I will walk with you And build the land That God has planned Where love shines through.
When Moses heard the call of God, He said, “Lord, don’t send me.” But God told Moses, “You’re the one to set my people free.”
Walk with me; I will walk with you . . .
This song will probably never make it into the United Methodist hymnal, but it was the vehicle for me to hear the voice of God calling me. Like a blinding light I KNEW that “there was nothing separating me, Barb Sawyer, from the love of God.” I KNEW! It was the message God brought to Paul; it was the message God had for me; it was the message that keeps being repeated. God keeps breaking in on the most unsuspecting, unworthy, unprepared, people to say . . . “Nothing can separate you from the love of God.”
Because Christ loves me, I can accept myself. As with Paul, I can know myself . . . all the parts of me. The good parts and the not so good parts. I do not have to become someone else. God has declared me righteous by the gift of divine love. God in Christ has reconciled me. Nothing will separate me from that love—not death nor life, not angels nor principalities, not present things nor things to come, not powers over which I have no control, not heights, not depths, nothing in all creation—not even THE SECRET. The church cannot separate me; the Oregon Citizens Alliance cannot separate me. NOTHING can separate me from the love of God.
What a wonder it is to know that. Nothing can separate me from the love of God. Understanding that is what changed Paul. Understanding that is what has changed me. I’d heard it before. I grew up hearing that Jesus loved me. My parents told me that, the United Methodist church told me that. I also was not unfamiliar with the sense that God was calling me. But at General Conference, in that moment, I heard it clear down, in the core of my physical body, in the depth of my soul, I knew that “nothing can separate me form the love of God.” . . . I AM RECONCILED by God’s initiation and by God’s grace. I am a lesbian, and I am Reconciled by God’s initiation and grace.
And, I am changed, I am different. Not transformed in the ways some folks would expect that I might be transformed, but I am transformed.
I am a lesbian. Why am I saying it now when I haven’t said it before? Nothing has changed in the world around me. The church is no less homophobic today than it was yesterday. The General Conference has not altered its position in the slightest in terms of gay men, lesbians, and bisexual persons. It is no safer this week than it was last. I am saying it now, because God said to me, “The time is now!”
Jesus said to Paul, “Go into the city and I will tell you what to do.” That’s what Paul did; he just did what he discerned God wanted him to do.
Paul was called to build up the church, yes, but how Paul did that was by simply telling his story. It led him to tell the church, “We are reconciled in Christ.” It led him to say, “In Christ there is neither man, nor woman; free man nor slave.” It led him to say, “we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.”
Paul said to the Followers, “Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse them. . . . Do not repay anyone evil for evil . . . the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”
God has put a claim on us. It does not serve us to ignore the fact that God loves and accepts us, just as we are.
It does not serve us to pretend that God’s love is limited in any way. It does not serve us to remain in our self-imposed closets, and it does not serve us to think that we are God’s ONLY chosen.
This is something that a mature Christian must understand. When we are reconciled to God, when we come to know that nothing can separate us from the love of God, we must also understand that being loved by God is not a personal privilege. God does not love Barb Sawyer differently than God loves [front row participant.] God does not love Americans differently than God loves Iranians. God does not love someone who is a member of the Oregon Citizen’s Alliance any less than God loves a child dying of AIDS.
God’s loving does not change from person to person, from situation to situation. There is nothing that can separate us, any of us, from the love of God.
God’s love is prevenient. I LOVE THAT WORD. Prevenient, it is a United Methodist word. Prevenient, it means that God’s love precedes our decision to be reconciled in God’s love. There is a moment, a moment when we must decide to let reconciliation happen between God and ourselves, a moment when we say yes to reconciliation or accept responsibility that we choose to align ourselves with alienation.
There is a model here for reconciliation in the Church. We must be prevenient people; we must love before we are loved, and even if we are not loved. We need not be about trying to convince one another that our particular positions are correct, we must be about listening to one another. We must encourage one another to question our political and theological positions in light of God’s ever-changing revelations. We must be about creating community. We must be about creating congregations who know who they are, and what Christ is calling them to do and be.
When the knowledge of God’s love comes to us, we find ourselves in a safe place. That is what the Church needs to be about. The task of the church is to create a safe place for people to be, a space where they can experience that there is nothing that can separate them from the love of God.
That is what the Reconciling congregation Program is about. Some of us here, in this room, and out there, need to explore what it means to expand our circle to welcome diversity, to declare that all God’s creation is “good.” There are people here, out there, who need to give up their agenda for God’s agenda. There are people in here, and out there, who are looking for a safe place.
IT IS TIME!
It is time for gay men and lesbians to hear the good news that nothing can separate them from the love of God. It is time for homosexuals and heterosexuals to come out of their closets, whatever their closets may be. It is time for all of us to stand in the light of God’s unconditional love, together.
God has called me, Barb Sawyer, to the ministry of reconciliation. God calls me to confront the Church, AND, God calls me to love my red-necked, hard-nosed, conservative, Bible-quoting, gay-bashing brothers and sisters . . . I’m still resistant at some levels. There doesn’t seem to be any way out for me . . . I can’t hide any longer. God calls me out of the closet. God calls me to be reconciled with the Divine. God calls me to be reconciled with the Church, THIS CHURCH, the whole church. God calls me to be reconciled with the world. Come, “Walk with me!”
CONNECTIONS • All-church potluck, Sunday, February 24, 11:30am, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Staff-Parish Relations Committee meets Sunday, March 2, 12:45pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Education Committee meets Sunday, March 9, 1:45pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Administrative Council meets Monday, March 10, 7:30pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Trustees meet Tuesday, March 11, 6:30pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Palm Sunday, Sunday, March 16. Special worship. • Outreach Committee meets Sunday, March 16, 12:45pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Lunch Bunch meets Tuesday, March 18, at John Street Café. Bev Read reserves space for us. • Maunday Thursday meal, worship and Easter eggs, Thursday, March 20, 6:30pm. • Easter Breakfast, Sunday, March 23, 9-9:30am, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Children’s Easter Egg Hunt, Sunday, March 23, 11:30am, Bell Tower lawn.
THE LARGER CHURCH • Celebration Dinner for the Community of Welcoming Congregations, Sunday, February 24, 5pm, first Congregational UCC in Salem. Tickets $20, 503-665-8741 or
• Jim and Jean Strathdee, “Songs of Faith and Freedom,” Sunday, March 2, 5pm, Courtyard Marriot Hotel, 9300 SE Sunnybrook Blvd. Suggested donation $10. • Catholic tradition worship service, Second Saturdays, 5pm, Sanctuary, UPUMC.
THE COMMUNITY • Game Days, First and Third Sundays, 2-5pm, Errol Stephenson Hall. • Belly Dance Event to Benefit the Good Samaritan Food Bank of North Portland, Today, 2-4pm, Patty’s Home Plate Deli, 8501 N Lombard. Donations of non-perishable food or cash. • Portsmouth Neighborhood Association Board meets Tuesday, February 26, 7pm. Errol Stephenson Hall. • FUTURE EVENTS, FOR YOUR CALENDAR • General Conference of the United Methodist Church meets April 23-May 2, 2008 in Fort Worth, TX. • Western Jurisdiction Conference of the UMC meets July 16-19, 2008 in Portland, OR.
WEEKLY AT UPUMC • Choir practices Sundays at 9:15am, Sanctuary. • Alcoholics Anonymous, Narthex, Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays at 8pm, weekly. • Overeaters Anonymous, Wednesdays at 7pm. STAYING IN TOUCH Edna Riddle, Sunrise Adult Care Center, 11945 SW Butner Rd., Portland OR 97225; 503-841-1295.
Harriet Bonhorst, 870 4th Avenue, Sacramento, CA 95818-3302; phone: 1-916-446-4863.
Erica Martinez, 182 E Nevada St. Ashland, OR 97520. Cell phone: 1-503-791-3680.
Jeanne Pulliam, 8603 SE Causey Ave, Apt 202; Happy Valley, OR 97086-2604, Telephone 503-594-2539.
Aleena Sologar, 775 Cascade St. #1316, Oregon City, OR 97045, her son Jonathan’s home. Phone, 503-387-3813.
Mary Zelenka, c/o Tom Zelenka, 2624 NE 20th Ave, Portland OR 97212.
THE NURSERY IS STAFFED DURING WORSHIP FOR CHILDREN YOUNGER THAN SCHOOL AGE. WHERE IN THE WORLD Feb. 24, 2008. In Tonga it is known as The Free Wesleyan Church. It has rich Wesleyan roots, many of which are Methodist and United Methodist. Most Tongans either belong to the Free Wesleyan Church or trace their faith-roots back to it. It sponsors well over 35 schools, and several agricultural projects. All of this is done in a cluster of 169 islands of varying sizes comprising of a population of well over 120,000 people. Many Tongans have emigrated to this country, and worship in Tongan fellowships and churches as well as neighborhood churches throughout the US. It is amazing what happens when people with the passion to share the love of Christ, in both word and deed, commit their resources and lives to bringing faith alive! The level of fellowship, hospitality and community shared by Tongan congregations and members are all examples of what faith should be all about. When you support World Service and Conference Benevolences, you send forth missionaries, doctors, accountants, agricultural workers and community organizers throughout the world. At one point in history those missionaries went to Tonga. At another point they rode horses and trains into rural Idaho and Oregon. And Bolivia, and India, and Germany. Spreading the word, sharing the grace, making brothers and sisters through the world--that is what you do every time you send a dollar to World Service. Missionary styles, emphases, locations, and skills have changed over the centuries, but not the underlying desire to make disciples and share God’s love. Thank you for being willing to go to wherever in the world you are needed. Thank you for caring enough to send the very best!—Rev. Jim Monroe SOUND SYSTEM Wow! We did it. We have received checks totaling $1,403.50 toward the new sound system. A member of the congregation has agreed to match that with another $1,000, for a total of $2,403.50 from the congregation. We already had $1100 set aside from a previous grant, and we will receive $1,700 as a matching grant from the Metropolitan district Church Extension society. This will give us $5,203.50 toward the installation of a new sound system. With the money in hand, we hope to have it installed by Easter. Thanks so much.
FROM THE GUEST BOOK
The love of this place—this congregation—warms my heart. Keep doing your good work. Peace. --Deborah Maria, February 17, 2008
I’ve always enjoyed attending here. The services are inspiring and the people so friendly. I like the Sunday School, too. Judy is especially friendly. --Joan Harmsen, February 17, 2008
WORSHIPPING IN THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS
Wow! What a year this has been for me—my faith and strength has been renewed and I’m so proud to spread my faith and love of myself (again). It has not been without obstacles but I have taken and used these obstacles as a challenge to be stronger in myself, my faith, and my life. Thank you everyone at UPUMC! --Bonnie I pray for all of our Service people who are stationed around the world. Please, God, watch over them! --Dotti
I’ve wondered—is there some kind of justice in this universe that demands a sacrifice like Jesus’ violent death to satisfy and counteract the evil? Lately, studying contemporary theological literature, I began to wonder that was it Jesus’ death that demonstrates God’s directions that only love works, violence doesn’t, in the long run. I wondered about a loving God using His son as a justice measure. But we learn violence doesn’t work—there has never been a life that has so influenced the world as Jesus’ life—love, no reaction against evil. The people crucified him, and as we continue to sin we continue to crucify him. We are all guilty. I wonder, I don’t know for sure. --Joan Harmsen
OUTREACH COMMITTEE PLANS The Outreach Committee has lots of good plans for this spring. Here’s a brief list, so that you can put them into your calendar: March 20 Maunday Thursday, meal and eggs March 23 Easter Breakfast Children’s Easter Egg Hunt April 8 and 15 Candidate Forums May 11 Mother’s Day Breakfast June 8 Fourth Annual North Portland Pride Festival June 15 Father’s Day BBQ
And, coming soon, Fair Trade coffee on Sunday mornings.
PLEASE DON’T GO HUNGRY. WE HAVE FOOD IN OUR PANTRY, LOCATED IN THE HALLWAY LEADING TO ERROL STEPHENSON HALL. TAKE WHAT YOU NEED.
IS THE LORD AMONG US, OR NOT? Exodus 17:1-7; John 4:1-42 February 24, 2008
Yesterday was a difficult day for me. The Oregon-Idaho Reconciling United Methodists met—a group I ordinarily enjoy the company of. The focus of the meeting was to prepare and bless people who will be going to the General Conference of the United Methodist Church in late April and early May. As a part of that preparation and blessing, Deborah Maria, the moderator, had asked those of us who have been there before to speak about what people needed to know and how they should prepare for General Conference.
I’ve gone to General conference, as an activist and an advocate, 4 times, in 1988, 1992, 1996, and 2000. I couldn’t bring myself to go in 2004—my health was too fragile, and, I think, my spirit as well. Marcia went without me that year. And this year, I struggled with the question of whether I would go again or not. In January, Marcia and I had a heart-to-heart conversation with the Staff-Parish Relations Committee, one where we talked of the reasons for going, and for not going. We decided, together, that Marcia and I would go this year. Once we had had that conversation, we contacted the people who are organizing the activist presence and offered our services. I will be a monitor for one committee at General Conference, the committee on higher education and ministry, the committee that deals with issues of ordination.
There is so much that is good and wonderful about this church of ours. I believe that; I live out of that conviction. But there are also things that are terribly wrong with our church. We seek to be the realm of God, the body of Christ alive in the world, but there are times, painful times, when we are as clueless as the disciples who came back to that well in Samaria and wondered, why is Jesus talking to her? We have important work to do and places to go, and she just isn’t on our agenda for today.
I’m sure you understand that men of that time and place did NOT talk to women in public, that Jews avoided all contact with Samaritans, that women who had relations with men who weren’t their husbands were stoned, not engaged in conversation. Jesus was breaking all the rules here, and for what? To talk about God, and God’s love to a sinful, outcast Samaritan woman who had the gall to engage him, to argue with him, in public.
Of course you know that the villages of the day didn’t have running water. Twice a day, in the early morning and again as evening approached, the women of the village would go to the village well. Morning and night they would gather together, talking as each of them filled her buckets or jars, a time for the women to gather, to exchange news, and to care and share with one another. But this woman was at the well at high noon. Now, do we suppose she went there then because she liked working by herself in the hot midday sun? Or do we imagine that she went to the well then because she was not welcome to be there with the “good” women of the village, or because she was tired of being shunned and judged by the ones who should have been her social community?
This is what Jesus would have known, as the woman came to the well while he was resting there—that she was an outcast in her own village, that she was bright and maybe belligerent, that she had no place, really, where she could belong, where she could live in confidence and safety. And that she was not willing to be a victim, not willing to knuckle under to the whispers and insinuations that she was not fit for human company.
And this is what he did. He engaged her in that most sacred of all activities for observant Jews and Samaritans alike, a conversation about God, about the spirit of God, about the living water that could quench her thirst. He engaged her; he recognized and named the reasons for her life as an outcast within her community, and then, amazingly, he took her as a disciple, sent her back to her people as a bearer of the good news of God’s abundant love for all.
Well, there it is. In the church, you see, we have been struggling for many years now about who is “good enough” to be a bearer of the good news. Who can be ordained? Who can be leaders? Who, even, can join this company of fragile, fractious, and sometimes funny followers of Jesus?
If we would listen carefully, I think we would know that the answer is that God can call anyone to be a bearer of good news. But too often, we fill our ears with the humming of our own songs of self-importance, making it hard to hear God’s message of welcome. We think, sometimes we insist, that there was a part left out of the story, the part where Jesus said, “Okay, listen. You are a sinner, woman. You dared to challenge me; you have had a bunch of husbands and are now living with someone you aren’t married to; you need to repent and get down on your knees and completely change who you are, and then, go get the man in your life, so I can tell him how to make you shape up, and then, well, be really grateful that I stopped to listen to your sorry self.” Wasn’t that in there? Betty—you read it—didn’t we just miss that part? I mean, we want to be disciples of Jesus, and even they were clear that there was something really wrong going on here. Maybe the disciples needed to pass a new resolution at their next gathering, at their next conference—no loose solitary Samaritan well-women can be received, ordained, or appointed to serve in our churches, ever. And maybe, in the meantime, they could take Jesus aside and explain to him, look, we’ve got a campaign to run here and you need to stay on message. None of these side conversations—we’re going to get really bad press from this one, and, well, you just know that this is going to make the Pharisees even angrier with you. You keep doing this and, don’t you know, you’re gonna get killed in the polls—and maybe for real as well.
So, as I was preparing to talk about going to General Conference, I was remembering all the ugly, un-Christian, hateful things I’ve experienced from folk who, like these first disciples, just wanted the body of Christ, the church, to stay on message and stop engaging the unwelcome people at the margins—and then, I guess three things happened.
One was that people listened to each other, and shared from their hope and their pain, and the meeting was a real encounter—sort of like the conversation that Jesus had with this unnamed woman. No matter how bad things have been, it is so important to be listened to, to be engaged, to experience that people care enough to let you speak your own story and truth. That carries over to lots of life. Everywhere we go, people in pain want to be heard. People struggling, whether it’s with injustice or bad habits, want to be heard, not dismissed. This is one of the drafts of fresh water that we can pull out of our well, to listen to the ones who are alone, outcast, in pain, suffering—for whatever reason. In the game of discipleship, listening trumps judgment.
A second thing that happened was that I remembered that this struggle we are engaged in, for a more open and more inclusive church, is a struggle that goes to the heart of who we are, as persons, as followers, as a church. It’s not done yet because we continue to be fallible human beings who want to badly to have someone to look down on, to have someone, someone who is worse than I am, someone who I can point to and say, thank you God, for not making me be one of them. We, all of us, are so tempted to respond to our own feelings of unworthiness by directing our own attention, and that of others, towards the unholy them, whoever they are. So, when I go to General Conference, perhaps it will help me to remember that those people who think it’s a sin and a crime for me to be your pastor are really quite a bit like Peter, or Thomas, or one of the other disciples—they just haven’t figured it out yet, that Jesus would really sit down and talk with someone like me, and then tell me to go tell the good news. Or with someone like you, whoever you are.
But then, the third thing that happened to me, between yesterday’s meeting and today’s sermon was that I came home and logged on to my e-mail and read a beautiful message from Carolyn Hammett. She sent on a short film on the theme, “I have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me.” “I have experienced injustice, but injustice doesn’t have me.” “I know suffering, but suffering isn’t who I am.” “I can learn from this hard time in my life that I am strong, and courageous, and caring, and beloved—and if I learn that, then, however hard it is, it is also a blessing.”
When the Israelites, fleeing from the slavery and oppression of Pharaoh, came into hard times in the desert, they challenged Moses, “Is the Lord among us, or not?’ And we ask the same question when we are in our own desert times, “Where is God? Why is it so hard? Is God with us, or not?”
And the answer, then as now, is that God is in the desert, offering us refreshing water that will be drawn by someone we didn’t expect to be a disciple, a bearer of good news. God doesn’t promise us a church without fault, a body without cancer, a relationship without pain, a life without great hunger and thirst for healing and justice. God knows life isn’t a simple skip in the park. Sometimes we are parched and dry and dying for a word of refreshment. Sometimes, we think we are the one who needs care, and learn, to our surprise, that we are called to be the bearers of good news to others. Sometimes, the care comes from unexpected disciples. God is at work all over the place, in the deserts of our lives. Using us, using each other, calling us all, even those we think unworthy, to be the bearers of good news and grace and love. And that is such amazing good news. It makes us want to jump up and run and holler and say, to one and all—“I just met this amazing Jesus, and he knows who I am and he still sent me to tell you that God loves you. Now and always. No exceptions. Spread the word.” Spread the word. Spread the word. Amen.
Children of God, CAlled To Heal the World, January 13, 2008
Written by Jeanne Knepper
Saturday, 26 January 2008
CHILDREN OF GOD, CALLED TO HEAL THE WORLD Isaiah 42:1-9; Matthew 3:13-17 January 13, 2008
Who are the prophets, in our day? Do you ever wonder that, as we read the words of Jeremiah or Isaiah, do you wonder whether we still have prophets, and who they might be? Who holds up the plumb line; who speaks for the poor, sold for a pair of Nikes, or for the bruised reeds, poor, mentally ill, sick and elderly, unable to get medical care they need so desperately? Where are our great lights, shining in darkness?
For me, when I want to hear words of prophecy, brought forward in words that echo in my soul and stay with me in times of deep darkness, I go to my sounds system, to music that will stir my soul, crank up my courage, quiet my heart and set my feet to dancing and my hands to working. If I were called upon to name the prophets of our era, I would name Martin Luther King, Jr., yes, and Carter Heyward and Cesar Chavez. But I would also name Holly Near, Tracy Chapman, Fred Small. I want to share a song—actually, I suppose, a poem, as I’m not going to sing it—with you today. It’s called, “Planet Called Home.”
Can you call on your imagination, as if telling a myth to a child? Put in the fantastical, wonderful, magical; add the romantic, the brave and the wild.
Once upon a time there was a power so great that no one could know its name. People tried to claim it and rule with it; always such arrogance ended in shame.
Thousands of years would pass in a moment; hundreds of cultures would come and go, each generation with a glorious calling, even when they were too busy to know.
Then one day after two millennia, which after all is was a small part of time, hundreds of souls found their way out of nowhere to be on earth at the threat of decline.
“Let’s all go,” they moved as one being, even though each would arrive here alone. They promised to work in grace with each other, to brave the beautiful planet called home.
There was no promise that they could save it, but how exciting to give it a try: If each one did just one thing beautifully, complex life on earth might not die.
And so they arrived in a spectrum of colors. The population on earth did explode. Some threw themselves in front of disaster; others slowly carried their load.
Some adopted small girls from China; some lived high in the branches of trees; some died as martyrs, some lived as healers, some bravely walked with a dreadful disease.
They mingled among each class and each culture. No one of them could be identified, but together they altered just enough moments to help the lost and the terrified.
To step outside of our egos and our bodies, to know for once that we truly are one— then quickly, we would forget to remember, but that’s okay; their job was well done.
And earth went on for another millennium. Now it’s time for my song to end this magical story of hope and wonder; invite you all to wake up and pretend to be Fabulous creatures sent from the power, souls that have come with one purpose in mind: To do one thing that will alter the outcome, and maybe together we’ll do it in time.
Can you call on your imagination, as if telling a myth to a child? Put in the fantastical, wonderful, magical; add the romantic, the brave and the wild. The souls are coming back!
Do you hear the connections with Isaiah? Somehow, someone needs to come forward, to set the planet right, to bring healing and justice to the world. God will call up that someone; God will call forth a servant of God who will open eyes that are blind, bring prisoners out of their dungeons and bring a light to the nations and justice to the people. Matthew and his interpreters have often claimed that Isaiah was predicting the birth and life of Jesus, that Jesus was the fulfillment of Hebrew Scriptures and the longed for Messiah. We’ve probably all thrilled to the majesty of the music of Handel’s Messiah, which proclaims that Jesus was and is the suffering servant of Isaiah 42.
There are several problems with this line of reasoning. One is that it misinterprets the point of prophetic writings. How often have you heard the word prophecy used to describe magically prescient predictions of an unknowable—except to the powerful prophet—future? Another is that it discredits all those who lived between the times of Isaiah and Jesus. How could Isaiah be scripture, the word of God, for them, when they did not and could not know the story of Jesus? Finally, and perhaps most important, such reasoning demeans Judaism. To argue that Isaiah was writing solely about the coming of Jesus is to assert that the Jewish faith is incomplete and obtuse, unable to recognize that the Messiah, the awaited one, God’s beloved servant, has already come, once and for all.
Our lectionary, following common Christian tradition, has paired these texts, Isaiah 42 and the baptism of Jesus, commonly understood as the beginning of his ministry and the time when God claimed Him as the fulfillment of generations of longing. Can we, in turn, deal with these passages together in a way that is both honest and respectful?
I think the first step is to start with Isaiah, in his own time. What was he living through; what was he writing about? Do you remember that the prophet Jeremiah wrote his messages as he foresaw and awaited the defeat of Judah at the hands of Babylon? The nation of Judah was defeated and many of its people were carried off to exile, to live as captives in Babylon, forbidden to go home. But history moved on. Many scholars think that the latter half of the book of Isaiah was written to the people in exile, written by someone who saw the hand of God in the shape of political fortune. By this time, Cyrus, King of Persia, was waging war against Babylon. Babylon had built its empire on the backs of conquered peoples, carried off from their homelands to be workers and captives in the Babylonian empire. Cyrus realized that he could undermine Babylon form within by cultivating the support of the captive peoples in Babylon, promising that he would allow them to return to their homelands and practice their own religious faiths. Cyrus, some scholars argue, became the unwitting servant of God, the one who would let the prisoners out of the dungeon, who would set the captives free.
Other scholars argue that the servant image of Isaiah is a reference to the faithfulness of Abraham and Sarah and Moses, to all within the people of god who kept the covenant, who established righteousness by honoring God’s commandments. In their view, the one who saves, the suffering servant, is not an individual but is instead the people, the People of God. The servant in whom God delights is the whole people of God, the ones who do not quench the lowly but faithfully and steadily call forth justice.
We are the inheritors of long traditions of interpretation, and that’s a good thing. This is how I would like to tie our stories together. Jesus, entering his ministry, was inspired and galvanized by the words and actions of John. He began to follow John, and went to him to receive John’s baptism, a ritual of repentance, of washing clean. John, recognizing God at work in Jesus and seeing baptism as an act of taking Jesus as a disciple, a hierarchical act, was hesitant. But Jesus understood baptism differently, and was confirmed in this different understanding when he saw the heavens open and heard God proclaim that he was God’s Child, Beloved and pleasing to God.
This was a life-changing event of the biggest sort. Think about it, being called a beloved child of God, by God. The gospels tell us that he went off into the wilderness to think through what that could mean, to figure out what he was called to do and be. He came back ready to be the Christ, the one who put God’s will at the center of his being, a true Child of God.
Baptism—a simple act makes a profound statement: we are children of God, or, as Holly Near put it, “fabulous creatures sent form the power, souls that have come with one purpose in mind, to do one thing that will alter the outcome, and maybe together we’ll do it in time.” Through our baptism, we renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and accept the freedom and power God gives us to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Those are the very words we use as we recognize and claim that God calls us to set the world aright, to welcome and create the Realm of God here, in North Portland.
We are one small church, doing God’s work in the world, doing it here, on this small peninsula that is North Portland. We’re a few people, but we are enough so that together, we might “alter the outcome,” in ways that we might not ever fully recognize. What does it mean to the boys who skate board on our front step that we treat them with respect and openness? Will we ever know whether we have planted seeds of self-respect with our conversations? What does it mean to a man or woman struggling to overcome the manifestation of evil that is addiction that we provide and protect space for Alcoholics Anonymous to meet three times each week?
Alone, we can wonder whether this neighborhood will hold together in the face of rising costs, poverty, and looming recession. Together, we can articulate a vision of communal wholeness, provide space for meetings and conversations, feed the hungry, and encourage those who are struggling on the edges of addictions and despair. Alone, we can feel great sorrow as people we love struggle with grief and pain and chronic illness. Together, we can invite them—and ourselves—to meet and serve and draw support from one another and from the constant presence of God.
Alone—but we are not alone. That’s the point. Through our baptism, through our belonging here, we have joined the people of God. We are God’s Beloved, now, inheritors of Isaiah’s promise, the souls of Holly Near’s imagining, the Christ, alive in the world.
Sometimes, when I pick up a newspaper and find myself near despair, I remember the words of poet Adrienne Rich, found on the front of today’s bulletin:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save. So much has been destroyed. I have to cast my lot with those who age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.
It’s a huge task, but we are not alone. And with God, I think we are up to it. Do you? I hope so.
Children of God, Called to Heal the World, January 13, 2008
Written by Jeanne Knepper
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
CHILDREN OF GOD, CALLED TO HEAL THE WORLD Isaiah 42:1-9; Matthew 3:13-17 January 13, 2008
Who are the prophets, in our day? Do you ever wonder that, as we read the words of Jeremiah or Isaiah, do you wonder whether we still have prophets, and who they might be? Who holds up the plumb line; who speaks for the poor, sold for a pair of Nikes, or for the bruised reeds, poor, mentally ill, sick and elderly, unable to get medical care they need so desperately? Where are our great lights, shining in darkness?
For me, when I want to hear words of prophecy, brought forward in words that echo in my soul and stay with me in times of deep darkness, I go to my sounds system, to music that will stir my soul, crank up my courage, quiet my heart and set my feet to dancing and my hands to working. If I were called upon to name the prophets of our era, I would name Martin Luther King, Jr., yes, and Carter Heyward and Cesar Chavez. But I would also name Holly Near, Tracy Chapman, Fred Small. I want to share a song—actually, I suppose, a poem, as I’m not going to sing it—with you today. It’s called, “Planet Called Home.”
Can you call on your imagination, as if telling a myth to a child? Put in the fantastical, wonderful, magical; add the romantic, the brave and the wild.
Once upon a time there was a power so great that no one could know its name. People tried to claim it and rule with it; always such arrogance ended in shame.
Thousands of years would pass in a moment; hundreds of cultures would come and go, each generation with a glorious calling, even when they were too busy to know.
Then one day after two millennia, which after all is was a small part of time, hundreds of souls found their way out of nowhere to be on earth at the threat of decline.
“Let’s all go,” they moved as one being, even though each would arrive here alone. They promised to work in grace with each other, to brave the beautiful planet called home.
There was no promise that they could save it, but how exciting to give it a try: If each one did just one thing beautifully, complex life on earth might not die.
And so they arrived in a spectrum of colors. The population on earth did explode. Some threw themselves in front of disaster; others slowly carried their load.
Some adopted small girls from China; some lived high in the branches of trees; some died as martyrs, some lived as healers, some bravely walked with a dreadful disease.
They mingled among each class and each culture. No one of them could be identified, but together they altered just enough moments to help the lost and the terrified.
To step outside of our egos and our bodies, to know for once that we truly are one— then quickly, we would forget to remember, but that’s okay; their job was well done.
And earth went on for another millennium. Now it’s time for my song to end this magical story of hope and wonder; invite you all to wake up and pretend to be Fabulous creatures sent from the power, souls that have come with one purpose in mind: To do one thing that will alter the outcome, and maybe together we’ll do it in time.
Can you call on your imagination, as if telling a myth to a child? Put in the fantastical, wonderful, magical; add the romantic, the brave and the wild. The souls are coming back!
Do you hear the connections with Isaiah? Somehow, someone needs to come forward, to set the planet right, to bring healing and justice to the world. God will call up that someone; God will call forth a servant of God who will open eyes that are blind, bring prisoners out of their dungeons and bring a light to the nations and justice to the people. Matthew and his interpreters have often claimed that Isaiah was predicting the birth and life of Jesus, that Jesus was the fulfillment of Hebrew Scriptures and the longed for Messiah. We’ve probably all thrilled to the majesty of the music of Handel’s Messiah, which proclaims that Jesus was and is the suffering servant of Isaiah 42.
There are several problems with this line of reasoning. One is that it misinterprets the point of prophetic writings. How often have you heard the word prophecy used to describe magically prescient predictions of an unknowable—except to the powerful prophet—future? Another is that it discredits all those who lived between the times of Isaiah and Jesus. How could Isaiah be scripture, the word of God, for them, when they did not and could not know the story of Jesus? Finally, and perhaps most important, such reasoning demeans Judaism. To argue that Isaiah was writing solely about the coming of Jesus is to assert that the Jewish faith is incomplete and obtuse, unable to recognize that the Messiah, the awaited one, God’s beloved servant, has already come, once and for all.
Our lectionary, following common Christian tradition, has paired these texts, Isaiah 42 and the baptism of Jesus, commonly understood as the beginning of his ministry and the time when God claimed Him as the fulfillment of generations of longing. Can we, in turn, deal with these passages together in a way that is both honest and respectful?
I think the first step is to start with Isaiah, in his own time. What was he living through; what was he writing about? Do you remember that the prophet Jeremiah wrote his messages as he foresaw and awaited the defeat of Judah at the hands of Babylon? The nation of Judah was defeated and many of its people were carried off to exile, to live as captives in Babylon, forbidden to go home. But history moved on. Many scholars think that the latter half of the book of Isaiah was written to the people in exile, written by someone who saw the hand of God in the shape of political fortune. By this time, Cyrus, King of Persia, was waging war against Babylon. Babylon had built its empire on the backs of conquered peoples, carried off from their homelands to be workers and captives in the Babylonian empire. Cyrus realized that he could undermine Babylon form within by cultivating the support of the captive peoples in Babylon, promising that he would allow them to return to their homelands and practice their own religious faiths. Cyrus, some scholars argue, became the unwitting servant of God, the one who would let the prisoners out of the dungeon, who would set the captives free.
Other scholars argue that the servant image of Isaiah is a reference to the faithfulness of Abraham and Sarah and Moses, to all within the people of god who kept the covenant, who established righteousness by honoring God’s commandments. In their view, the one who saves, the suffering servant, is not an individual but is instead the people, the People of God. The servant in whom God delights is the whole people of God, the ones who do not quench the lowly but faithfully and steadily call forth justice.
We are the inheritors of long traditions of interpretation, and that’s a good thing. This is how I would like to tie our stories together. Jesus, entering his ministry, was inspired and galvanized by the words and actions of John. He began to follow John, and went to him to receive John’s baptism, a ritual of repentance, of washing clean. John, recognizing God at work in Jesus and seeing baptism as an act of taking Jesus as a disciple, a hierarchical act, was hesitant. But Jesus understood baptism differently, and was confirmed in this different understanding when he saw the heavens open and heard God proclaim that he was God’s Child, Beloved and pleasing to God.
This was a life-changing event of the biggest sort. Think about it, being called a beloved child of God, by God. The gospels tell us that he went off into the wilderness to think through what that could mean, to figure out what he was called to do and be. He came back ready to be the Christ, the one who put God’s will at the center of his being, a true Child of God.
Baptism—a simple act makes a profound statement: we are children of God, or, as Holly Near put it, “fabulous creatures sent form the power, souls that have come with one purpose in mind, to do one thing that will alter the outcome, and maybe together we’ll do it in time.” Through our baptism, we renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and accept the freedom and power God gives us to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. Those are the very words we use as we recognize and claim that God calls us to set the world aright, to welcome and create the Realm of God here, in North Portland.
We are one small church, doing God’s work in the world, doing it here, on this small peninsula that is North Portland. We’re a few people, but we are enough so that together, we might “alter the outcome,” in ways that we might not ever fully recognize. What does it mean to the boys who skate board on our front step that we treat them with respect and openness? Will we ever know whether we have planted seeds of self-respect with our conversations? What does it mean to a man or woman struggling to overcome the manifestation of evil that is addiction that we provide and protect space for Alcoholics Anonymous to meet three times each week?
Alone, we can wonder whether this neighborhood will hold together in the face of rising costs, poverty, and looming recession. Together, we can articulate a vision of communal wholeness, provide space for meetings and conversations, feed the hungry, and encourage those who are struggling on the edges of addictions and despair. Alone, we can feel great sorrow as people we love struggle with grief and pain and chronic illness. Together, we can invite them—and ourselves—to meet and serve and draw support from one another and from the constant presence of God.
Alone—but we are not alone. That’s the point. Through our baptism, through our belonging here, we have joined the people of God. We are God’s Beloved, now, inheritors of Isaiah’s promise, the souls of Holly Near’s imagining, the Christ, alive in the world.
Sometimes, when I pick up a newspaper and find myself near despair, I remember the words of poet Adrienne Rich, found on the front of today’s bulletin:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save. So much has been destroyed. I have to cast my lot with those who age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.
It’s a huge task, but we are not alone. And with God, I think we are up to it. Do you? I hope so.
University Park United Methodist Church (UPUMC) is located at 4775 N Lombard, Portland Oregon 97203. UPUMC is small, diverse, growing, laughing, committed, caring, serious, warm and REAL! We are a community that encourages each other as we grow in faith, in knowledge, in service, and in love of self, God and neighbor. At University Park we not only respect but welcome diversity in race, gender, national origin, age, sexual orientation, gender identity, physical and mental ability, economic status and profession. We believe all people are equal before God and entitled to Gods grace and abundance. Pastors: Rev. Dr. Jeanne Knepper & Rev. Marcia Hauer http://www.upumc.net
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