POURED OUT TO MAKE US KIN
Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 51; John 12:20-32
April 2, 2006

Mychal Judge died on a sunny Tuesday morning in September, a day that had dawned clear and bright, with no hint of what would come. Mychal was a recovering alcoholic, a gay activist, a Roman Catholic priest, a Franciscan friar, and chaplain for the firefighters of lower Manhattan. On September 11, 2001, he went to the World Trade Center with his firefighters. Early that morning, as he bent to prayer for an injured person, a piece of debris hit him on the head and killed him. Father Mychal Judge was the first casualty of 9-11.

The firefighters and police who knew him as a dear reflection of Christ, as the man who would laugh and pray with them, who would go anywhere with them, who was devoted to them, these firefighters and police put his body on a broken chair, carried him to nearby Saint Peter’s Roman Catholic Church, laid him on the altar in the sanctuary, knelt beside him, laid their hands on his body, and prayed for him in his death. In that moment of grief and loss, they took on the role of the priesthood; they became the church for one another, ministering to each other as they tended to the one who had loved them so.

A photographer caught the drama of the firefighters carrying Father Mychal on the broken chair in a photo that recalls Michelangelo’s Pieta, the sculpture of Mary holding the broken body of Jesus. His death has become a focal point for the oft-voiced and painful cry, “Why?�

Why? Why did Father Mychal, who did not have to be there, why did Father Mychal go towards a collapsing building? Why did he stay to comfort someone who was injured instead of saving himself? Did God want him to die? Why did he die?

Always, after the denial, always comes the question, “Why?� And so it was for the early Christians, those Followers of the Way of Jesus, the ones who walked and talked and slept and ate with their beloved leader, the ones who were left bereft when he was accused, tried, and executed, “Why? O God, why did he die?�

Show (0) - Add comments:

Fiery Serpents In The Wilderness, Oh, My!
Numbers 21:4-9, Psalm 107:1-3; 17-22, Ephesians 2:8-10, John 3:14-21
March 26, 2006
Rev. Marcia J. Hauer


I recently read a piece in The New Yorker magazine on happiness. It began with a story about 2 hunter-gatherers from around 100,000 years ago. As they went about their business, they came upon bushes that were full of ripe, red berries. The first took a handful and began to eat. The second took a handful and put them in a pouch. Later, they came across a cave. The first hunter-gatherer eagerly went inside to explore while the second stayed outside, afraid to enter. The first person came out without having found anything of particular interest. Then they heard rustleing in the grass and the first person went into the tall grass to find out what caused it and the second stayed behind. Curiosity seemed to mark the first person’s life while fear was the watchword for the second. The writer, John Lanchester, says that the first hunter-gatherer in the story was much more fun to be around than the second; however, he probably didn’t live very long and, likely, didn’t send his genes into another generation. You see, the berries could have been poisonous; a bear could have been at home in the cave and a snake or animal who was stalking the two people could have been in the grass. If any one of those things had been the case, the first person would have died. The author goes on to say that we are the descendants of the second, fearful hunter-gatherer. For most of the time that humans have been on the planet, it’s made good sense to be cautious. Many common things, a scratch, a sniffle, a bad piece of meat could be lethal in a world without antibiotics, surgery and good medical care. In such a world, there wasn’t much reason to expend energy on happiness, so says Mr. Lanchester in his review of two books on the subject.

As I thought about it, though, I wondered. Did the more adventurous hunter-gatherer not achieve some measure of happiness when the berries were sweet and tasty? Or when he discovered what was in the cave wasn’t dangerous and when he discovered that there wasn’t anything in the tall grass to be afraid of? Admittedly, I’m putting my own sensibilities, drawn from living in our time and culture on top of a time and culture I don’t know much about. It’s hard to know what level of happiness, if any these two people enjoyed. Perhaps it was enough to have survived another day. However, it seems to me, that people, regardless of time or circumstances are wired for a variety of emotions and those people who limit theirs—especially when fear and/or anxiety are the primary ones—are not happy people.

I spent some time this week reading the book of Numbers. I found that the beginning of the book was about establishing a nation, a theocracy, of the Israelite people. All the men of the twelve tribes were enrolled so that there could be an army if one was needed. There were instructions for the maintenance of the Levites, who were not counted among those who would be called upon to fight. Their task was in serving God in the Tent of Meeting. There were instructions for maintaining the Arc of the Covenant and the various holy objects, particularly as they were being moved from one place to another. There were stories of spies who went into the land of Canaan to see if it would be possible to settle there, or whether there would be a lot of fighting to make that happen. And, over and over again, there were stories of the people being unhappy because there wasn’t food that they liked or water to drink and if there was, it was bitter. The people went so far as to appoint captains to take them back into Egypt. They had forgotten, some 2 years after escaping from Egypt, about the terrible conditions there. They had forgotten that they were slaves, that they were beaten and starved. They complained about their food which was delivered with the dew each morning and they longed for the fish that they had to catch. These people were fearful, and ungrateful. Moses was almost at the end of his patience and God was beyond impatient, and, according to the story, sent snakes to harass and bite the people who quickly learned their lesson and repented—not for the first or the last time in this story of their wanderings in the wilderness.

Show (0) - Add comments:

Covenant Faithfulness
Genesis 17:1-7; 15-21, Mark 8:31-38
March 12, 2006
Rev. Marcia J. Hauer


There’s something about names. They give us identity. They have power. We give names to our children, of course, but we also give them to our good friends, sweethearts, pets, cars, boats, houses and lots of other things. I’d bet most of us have been called by a nickname or have called someone else by one. Using such special names often brings an increased sense of closeness. On the other hand, nicknames can cause hurt. Naming is a two edged sword. My father used to tell a story about the man he worked for during the Depression. Times were hard and people did whatever they could to make ends meet. This man, my father’s boss, raised a pig with the idea that when it was large enough, they would butcher it and have meat for a long while. When the time came, and the first meal was served—pork roast, if memory serves—this man began to carve the roast and asked, “Anybody want a piece of Toby?� And, even though the pig hadn’t been given a name and hadn’t been a pet, no one could eat dinner that night nor could they eat any of the rest of the meat. There is power in naming things.

In the ancient Middle East, naming someone gave the namer power over that person. Have you ever noticed that in the second creation story in Genesis 2-3, Adam names all the animals but doesn’t name the woman? God takes that privilege because God claims the woman as much as the man and wants them to have an equal relationship. So it is in our story from Genesis this morning. Abram and Sarai have been told to leave their home and family and to go out into the world without knowing where they are going or what awaits them. All they know is that God has told them that if they go, God will give them a “good and broad land, flowing with milk and honey,� and that their descendents will be more numerous than all the grains of sand on the sea shore. These are grand promises. In this morning’s reading, however, these people have been gone from Ur, their homeland a long time. They’ve sojourned all the way from the north to the south of what is now Israel/Palestine. They have been into Egypt. Sarai’s slave, Hagar, has borne Abram’s only child. Now, both Abram and Sarai are old, well past the age of producing children. Then, God came to Abram, gave him and Sarai new names and told them that they would be parents within the year. Abram’s response? He laughed. “How can a man as old as I am with a wife as old as Sarai is, possibly become a father?� he asked.

The story of Abraham and Sarah begins in Genesis 12 and goes into Genesis 25. It’s told from several different sources and woven together. You’ll find numerous discrepancies, places where the story seems to go back on itself only to be told from a different angle, places where the timing simply won’t work if the story is historic fact. The truth of the story isn’t to be found in those details. Its truth is simply, that God does keep promises. When God seeks to be in covenant with people—that’s all of us—God does what God has promised. Our response to these promises is to remain faithful.

Abraham and Sarah went out into the world not knowing what to expect except that God had promised them descendents and a good land. God expected that they would leave their old gods behind and worship only the One who sent them out. They kept their end of the bargain, imperfectly, but they kept it. They were people of covenant faithfulness.

Show (0) - Add comments:

CONNECTIONS
UPUMC
• Teach Me To Pray, Adult Sunday School Class begins today, 11:30am, Errol Stephenson Hall.
• Worship Committee meets today, 11:30am, Sanctuary.
• Staff-Parish Relations Committee meets Monday, March 13, 6:30pm, Errol Stephenson Hall.
• Administrative Council meets Monday, March 13, 7:30pm, Errol Stephenson Hall.
• Outreach Committee meets Tuesday, March 14, 7:30pm, Errol Stephenson Hall.
• Finance Committee meets with lunch Sunday, March 19, 12:30pm, Errol Stephenson hall.

THE LARGER CHURCH.
• All Is Ready—Join the Party! A weekend retreat for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender people, their families, and allies at Suttle Lake Camp in Sisters, Oregon, Friday-Sunday, March 17-19. Co-sponsored by Oregon-Idaho Camp and Retreat Ministries and Reconciling United Methodists of Oregon.

FUTURE EVENTS, FOR YOUR CALENDAR
• Annual Meeting, Community of Welcoming Congregations, Sunday, March 26, 3-5pm, Morningside UMC, Salem OR.
• North Portland Candidate Forums co-hosted by UPUMC and the Portsmouth Neighborhood Association, Tuesdays, April 18, 25, and May 2, 7-9pm, UPUMC sanctuary.
• Third Annual All-Church Retreat at Camp Magruder on the Oregon Coast, Friday-Sunday, September 15-17, 2006.
WEEKLY AT UPUMC
• Choir practices Sundays at 9:30am, Tuesdays at 6:30pm, Sanctuary.
• Morrison Child and Family Center program, Mondays, 4-6pm.
• Men’s Group, Tuesdays, 10am, Narthex.
• Alcoholics Anonymous, Narthex, Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays at 8pm, weekly.
• Overeaters Anonymous, Wednesdays at 7pm, Saturdays at 3pm.
THE NURSERY IS STAFFED DURING WORSHIP FOR CHILDREN YOUNGER THAN SCHOOL AGE. SCHOOL AGE CHILDREN ARE INVITED INTO THE SANCTUARY UNTIL THE ‘PASSING OF THE PEACE’; THEN THEY GO TO SUNDAY SCHOOL.

PLEASE DON’T GO HUNGRY. WE HAVE FOOD IN OUR PANTRY, LOCATED IN THE HALLWAY LEADING TO ERROL STEPHENSON HALL, TAKE WHAT YOU NEED.

Show (0) - Add comments:

BELIEVE THE GOOD NEWS!
Genesis 9:8-17; Mark 1:9-15
March 5, 2006
By Rev. Dr. Jeanne Knepper

Do you ever wonder about the Scriptures chosen for any particular Sunday? Why these two, or three, or four, and no other? Why are today’s stories those of Noah and the rainbow covenant; Jesus being baptized, tempted, and proclaiming the realm of God?

And even more, why is it that you can drive along Portland street and see, week after week, sermon titles that might apply to the scriptures we read here? Is it magic? A great conspiracy? How does this happen?

Well, I suppose you could call it a conspiracy, of sorts, especially if you go to the root meanings of conspiracy, breathing together. You see, many mainline churches, United Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Episcopal and others, choose to follow what is called the Revised Common Lectionary, a three year cycle of readings that tracks the church calendar and takes us through much, though not all, of the great breadth of the bible. In Lectionary terms, today is the First Sunday of Lent in year B, the year when our gospel focus is mostly on the gospel of Mark, the year when many readings during the period of Lent focus on the subject of covenant, as in the establishment of God’s covenant with all life at the end of the Noah and the flood story.

One of the gifts of preaching from the lectionary, which I mostly do, is that it takes me, or any preacher, beyond my favorites, into wrestling with texts that stretch me. Another gift is that there are many sermon resources out there that are keyed to the lectionary, so that preachers can tap into a wealth of material that might be relevant. A third gift, and temptation, is that, after a while, after three years, passages come back again. And now, in our age, the miracle of computers means that I can tap a few keys and find out what I had to say three years ago.

I did that this week, and found a pretty good sermon, one that began with me tossing this rock up and down and talking about the great Missoula floods that shaped the land under our feet right now, the long gravel bar that is North Portland. Those floods still seem to be a good starting point for a reflection on our scripture for today.

Now I’ve talked with you before about the purpose of creation mythology, that it answers questions about the nature of God and the whys of creation, about the relationship between God and life on earth, about how things came to be the way they are. So listen, then to our story. In the face of floods—not one but many [geologists think there may have been as many as 100 Missoula floods in the 6000 year period between 18000 and 12000 years ago, approximately one every 60 years for a 6000 year period]—in the face of a period of flooding that filled sixty centuries with frequent devastating floods, our faith tells us a story of a creator who promised, no more destruction of the earth, no more flooding to cover all the known areas of habitable land. The rainbow, the story tells us, is God’s sign, God’s signature to promise that God does not intend to destroy, not earth, not the animals, not the birds, not the people. The story tells us of a God who loves creation, all of it, even us, with a love more durable than my rock.

Well, that’s a good message, that God loves all of us, loves us with a depth and longevity that we can’t even imagine. God loves you. Oh, but beware of the life-changing power of that message. Jesus heard the message as he arose from baptismal waters—“You are my beloved�—and it drove him into a wilderness of doubt, despair, and temptation, a proverbial 40 days of wandering in the wilderness, trying to come to terms with the idea that the core of all being had said, “I love you.�

Show (0) - Add comments: