"Summer of the Bible"

So what are your plans for the summer? Come along with us at PCC for the "Summer of the Bible." Over the next 13 weeks (until the end of August) we'll be reading our way through parts of the Bible - from Genesis to Revelation. Each week a "sample" of texts from different parts of the Bible will be available. I'll post them here ... and they'll be available for download at our website: www.pcchestertown.org. Come join the journey!

SUMMER OF THE BIBLE - Readings for Week 1 (June 5-11)
Background on the Book of Genesis, chapters 1-11 (from “The Year of the Bible” by Dr. James E. Davison, p. 2 - Louisville, KY: Bridge Resources):

These first 11 chapters of the Book of Genesis deal with the “prehistory” of Israel. “They are the stories that place Israel within the context of world history as a whole. As you read, try not to get caught up in how these events relate to modern science. It is more useful to ask yourself what these stories would have meant to the children of Israel as they heard them told many times. The nations surrounding Israel believed in many gods. For them, the sun, the moon, and the stars were divine. Observe that, in the story of the creation of the heavens and the earth in Genesis 1, a basic point is that there is only one God. This God is above all things, and all things have been created by God.
“The implications for the religious beliefs of other nations are clear. Notice that, even though light is created immediately by God, the sun and the moon and the stars are not created until much later. For our scientific understanding, that sounds strange; however, it is a very good way of pointing out that the gods worshiped by neighboring peoples are not gods at all.
“Likewise, the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 2 and 3 shows us what human nature is like. It tries to explain in a simple manner that God has not brought evil into the world. Humans are responsible for perpetuating evil. This and the later stories in this section [chapters 1-11] attempt to show, in a way that is clear to all generations, how God first interacted with human beings, how evil increased rapidly in the world, and how, because of that, God pronounced judgment on human beings.”

SUMMER OF THE BIBLE – 2011
Readings for June 5 – 11:
· Genesis 1 & Genesis 2 – two versions of the Creation
· Genesis 3 – 4:16 – “East of Eden: Sin and its consequences”
· Genesis 6:5-7 – a “Grieving God”
· Genesis 6:9-14 and 7:6-12 and 8:6-12, 18-22 and 9:8-17 – Noah and the Flood and God’s new way upon the earth
· Genesis 11:1-9 – the Tower of Babel

Questions for reflection:

What do we learn from having two different versions of creation – one in Genesis 1 and one in Genesis 2?
What do we learn about humanity … and about God … through the stories of Cain and Abel, Noah, and the Tower of Babel?
How does God’s intention that creation be good persist in spite of human wrongdoing?
What do you think that means for us living in the 21st century?

The Road to Emmaus

From last week's sermon on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35):

While the 2 of them were pouring out their despair to the stranger on the road that day, they used what may be the four saddest words in all of Scripture: “But we had hoped …”. You can almost feel the yearning in their words: … But we had hoped that this Jesus whom we had seen healing, whom we had heard teaching, whom we had followed for so long … we had hoped he would be the one to redeem us.

But for all that they had hoped before, now they could only pour out their questions, their disappointment, their despair to the stranger they met along the way.

But we had hoped ….

When have you wanted to say that? We had hoped that … this would be the relationship; our child would get better, this would be the job … this move would make us happy ….

For anyone who has been listening to the news from Pakistan or Afghanistan or even the tragedies still emerging from the rubble of tornados, for anyone who has worried and questioned and struggled over children or grandchildren, over marriages, or jobs, or health … those same 4 words become our own protest that this is not the way we thought it would be. They become the watchwords of our own longing and lament: but we had hoped….

And when those are our words, that’s when we find ourselves walking down our own road to Emmaus. The end of the road at the end of a tragic and long, disappointing day.

But do you notice what happens next?

What in fact has actually been happening ever since that morning at the tomb? Maybe it would be easier to see if we had been reading right from the beginning of the chapter, right from the beginning of that Easter morning.

When the two angels spoke to the women at the tomb to announce the resurrection, unlike in the gospels of Matthew and Mark, they don’t tell the women to go tell the others to hightail it back to Galilee to meet the risen Christ there. Instead, they tell them to “remember” all that Jesus had told them.

Now on the road, the stranger calls the two travelers to remember everything that the Scriptures had said about the Christ.

And then, seated at the table that evening, they finally remember.

Maybe it was when they sat down to eat that it starts to come back to them. Maybe they start to remember other meals they’ve shared together – that bread-and-fish picnic when the 5000 were fed or that last supper in an upstairs room just days before. Surely, it starts to come back to them.

We don’t know how it happened, maybe the way he broke it, or in the familiar words of blessing … but there was something that made all the pieces fall into place. It was in the breaking of the bread that they remembered when they have met this man before. And their eyes are opened and they recognize him. They are brought back from the despair and shadows of death and they realize that life has won.

Remembering can do that to us, can’t it? At first, everything may seem like bits and pieces, random background “noise” with no rhyme or reason. Yet in our remembering something happens that can make it all seem so clear.

Thinking about those disciples at the table with Jesus has sent my own memory roaming back to communion services over the years when I have seen bread broken and shared the cup with others. And I remember …

· As a 6th grader, finally able to take communion and sitting beside my father in the pew while he held the communion tray to pass it to me;
· I remember the large pans of the special recipe of unleavened communion bread my grandmother would bake … almost like shortbread, but not sweet. I still remember the taste of it.
· I remember once (a long time ago, of course) getting my tongue stuck in a communion cup. My best advice: Do not try to get the last drop out of the cup. Trust me, it’s not worth it.
· I remember the first time serving communion at the J.L. Zwane Church in South Africa when I realized that it was the custom for the pastor to fill the small glass communion cups (like we use) at the table in front of the congregation using a large, wide-mouthed pitcher. More of it ended up on the table, on me and splashed all over the trays than actually ended up in the cups. (Later, I bought them one of the devices like we use that help fill the cups a bit more easily.)

I remembered all the places I’ve had communion.

I’ve shared communion at a TB hospital and in shacks in squatter settlements in South Africa. I’ve had communion on top of Mt. Sinai and in grand cathedrals in Europe, and a Greek Orthodox Church in Jerusalem. I’ve joined in communion with a thousand and more people at a Presbyterian General Assembly and then again with just a handful of people in small rural churches in north Florida, at a prayer service for the opening of Congress in D.C., at retreat centers and presbytery meetings, in nursing homes and at bedsides, in the intimacy of someone’s home … and many, many times here with all of you.

Pita bread, rye bread, wafers, my grandmother’s special communion bread, gluten-free, whole wheat, unleavened and even Wonder Bread white.

And each time, just like that evening in Emmaus, there has always been the same things: a spoken word, a bit of bread that was broken … a sip of wine (or, being a good Presbyterian, more often … a bit of grape juice) … all very simply things … and yet, each time, somehow my eyes are opened and I know Christ has been in our midst.

In a world that seems to be spinning out of control, when on any given day we have hoped it might all be different those things seem absolutely inconsequential. Yet somehow it is in the small things … a spoken word, a bit of bread, a sip of wine that we remember that Christ is present, that life can still come out of death, that the wounded can be made whole, that swords can still be turned into plowshares.

As I’ve been thinking about and remembering all those communion services, I’ve realized what it was I was really remembering. It wasn’t the place, nor whether it was wine or grape juice served in a common cup or in little cups, nor even the kind of bread we had.

It was the community, the people … that I remember: gathered around the table, telling old, old stories, sharing the feast, sharing how our lives had been touched by God, and I remember.
When we do it right, that’s what church looks like and that’s how we can know Christ is present: sharing meals around this table … or a potluck table, crying together at the funeral of a friend, lifting prayers in weekly worship, telling and re-telling the stories of scripture, feeding those who are hungry, sheltering those who have no home, rebuilding communities, serving together for our community and our neighbors near and far, and witnessing with the way we live and the choices we make that there is another way to live.

That road to Emmaus happened a long time ago … and we still walk along it even today.
Emmaus helps us remind each other that we can still have hope.
Emmaus helps us remember that God still walks alongside us in our confusion, our doubt, our hope and our faith ….
Emmaus invites us to expect God to meet us where we are … on a street corner or in an office, at school or on the sports field or at work, at 4-H or Chorale or in AA, at the detention center or prison, in a circle of knitters or by someone’s bedside. Wherever lives are shared, comfort given, support provided, injustice challenged … Christ is there.

So where is it and how is it that we see Christ among us even now?
May our eyes be opened and so remember.
Amen and amen.

Saturday of Holy Week

From Sara: This is a version of what I posted LAST YEAR on the Saturday of Holy Week. For those of you who may have already seen it, or for those of you who haven't ... it still rings true for me.

We know what happened on the other days of Holy Week ... but what about Saturday? It doesn't say anything about Saturday. What did they do that day? Well, of course it was the Sabbath for them ... so they DID know what to do, or not do, as the case may be. But what about us? What do we do with this day of waiting?
Since becoming a pastor 22 years ago, I know what to do with Saturday before Easter: finish the sermon, check and double-check the "list" of what needs to be done and by when on Sunday morning (sunrise service comes awfully early and then things happen very quickly!). In general, Saturday is very simple: stay as focused as possible on Easter so that it all comes together.

For those of you with children and grandchildren (and nieces and nephews) and guests about to arrive ... it's also a day for finishing Easter baskets, planning Easter lunch (or dinner ... whichever it is for you), and on a spectacular spring Saturday (like today is turning out to be) ... enjoy the outdoors.
It's easy to fill up a Saturday ... any Saturday ... with errands and tasks and work to do (whether sermon or household chores). But maybe Saturday is simply meant to be a day to ponder the mystery of it all.
So on whatever "Saturday" list you have ... add to it: "ponder the mystery of God's gift of life" ... and if you can spare a few minutes, watch this YouTube clip (put together by some folks at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0c2inXKD6PI
Easter IS Coming. Thanks be to God.
(Photo taken by Sara Holben - May 2009, outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem)

Good Friday

Thoughts from Sara:



"What language shall I borrow
to praise thee, dearest friend,
for this, thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine for ever,
and, should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love to thee.


"O Sacred Head Now Wounded" words attr. to Bernard of Clairvaux, 12th century; translated (English) James W. Alexander, 1830

Palm Sunday at Clairvaux Farm

Here is a report written by our own Casey Roberts about the Palm Sunday Youth trip to Clairvaux Farm ... [Clairvaux Farm is located in Cecil County, MD and is part of the ministry of "Meeting Ground" serving families who are experiencing homelessness. This was the second trip by PCC youth to sponsor a party for the children on the Farm.]

Casey Roberts April 22 at 12:01pm Report:

Egg hunts? Flower pot painting? Egg dying? What does this remind me of? Hmmm…oh yes! Clairvaux Farms! There was so much to do! The older boys had the most fun hiding the eggs. For the older kids, they would just throw them around the hiding field randomly, seeing who could throw farthest. We really got to know the kids at our flower pot decorating station, though. The little girls and boys had fun painting the boxes-and us- and pouring in the soil. It was so fun to see them laugh in happiness as they worked. All of the youth handled the children so well! I think Emily -and friend Anna- had the most fun with one little girl they met. The rest of us had fun talking to the older kids or playing with the little boys. After a fun egg hunt, we all entered the dining hall to eat cookies and dye eggs. When it was our time to leave, we saw happy faces, bags of candy, pretty pots, and even more special; Gods love resting in the air around us. It was honestly a beautiful trip, and I cannot wait to go back!

Photo by Sara Holben taken on Palm Sunday. April 17, 2011 at Clairvaux Farm

Thursday of Holy Week

Thoughts from Sara:

For the past 10 years, our Maundy Thursday service at PCC has been in the Fellowship Hall around the supper table. A fellowship supper has been a part of the communion service as we gather in our own "upper room." This year instead of a fellowship supper we made our Narthex a "Jerusalem Marketplace" with different stalls of oranges, melons, dates and figs, cheeses and yogurt with honey, baked goods and spices all around the Narthex. The palms from Palm Sunday graced the tables reminding us what week it was. The aroma was wonderful, the fellowship a joy, and we moved from the Narthex streets of Jerusalem into our fellowship hall for communion, maybe the way the disciples had walked through the streets amid the noise and vendors and aromas of spices and maybe even stopped for a bite to eat in the old city of Jerusalem before they had their own "last supper."

One of our elders, whose vision of the marketplace helped make it come alive, told me that for her Maundy Thursday was very special because it made her think: "if this were my last meal I can't imagine a better place to spend the time than here at church with my friends."

A Holy Thursday indeed.

Wednesday of Holy Week

Thoughts from Sara:

What a gorgeous spring day today in Chestertown. In the 80s, the pink dogwood outside the sanctuary is in full bloom. My tulips look terrific. It MUST be almost Easter having this much "spring" around.

But conversations with Mel Baars over supper about South Africa brought me back to remember ... of course this is Holy Week and Easter in the southern hemisphere too ... where it's already autumn and approaching winter.

Easter without trees in bloom and tulips and hyacinths and all the rest?

Yet, there is something about Easter on the threshold of winter that perhaps we need to see as well. To remind us that God is not just with us in those new signs of hope, but God is there as well – through the suffering and on the cross. Christ’s Resurrection is not just a glorious triumph, but it has meaning BECAUSE of the crucifixion. It brings a depth of meaning to the Resurrection that we might not see in the light of spring.
The challenge of Easter in autumn is great – but in some ways it is even more profound. For it allows no easy victories, no simple answers.

And maybe it also helps us to see that Christ’s resurrection still bears deep within it – sometimes where no one can see – the seeds of promise and hope.

Tuesday of Holy Week

Thoughts from Sara:

So what did Jesus do during Holy Week? I went looking in the Gospels.

Each one, of course, is slightly different. Matthew, Mark and Luke have him clear the Temple of the "money-changers." (Ooops ... so much for having chocolate eggs available for a donation this past Sunday and Malaria Nets for Mother's Day this coming Sunday!)

Matthew and Mark agree that Jesus is anointed at Bethany (it happens some other time in both Luke and John). Jesus spends time in the temple grounds (remember the widow and her two "mites"?).

But mostly Jesus talks and he teaches. And he continues to tell his parables and some of these are the hardest and most thought-provoking of all the parables ... especially when it comes to all these parables about "keeping watch," the Last Judgment (about the sheep and the goats) and preparing for the return of the Son of Man. This is where all those passages are embedded we often hear during Advent about Christ's return.

But what surprised me, because it never shows up in the Lectionary during Holy Week, is that according to Matthew and Mark's sequence of events, one of the things Jesus taught during Holy Week is the Great Commandment: "Which commandment in the law is the greatest?" a lawyer asked him. Jesus said to him: "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."

Out of all the other things that crowd our preaching and teaching agendas during Holy Week, maybe we should simply remember that it was in his last week that Jesus taught us what is the most important of all.

Not a bad thing to remember on Tuesday of Holy Week.

P.S. An aside: During the month of March for the past several years, our congregation has hosted the Samaritan Emergency Winter Shelter for people experiencing homelessness in Kent County. This year the shelter included a 9-year old and her mom and sister. Volunteers told me that at supper each night, she would ask to give the blessing and would read the words that are painted as a mural on the wall of our Fellowship Hall: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind ... and your neighbor as yourself." ... Amen and amen.

Photo by: Sara Holben ... Abbey of Iona, Scotland - June 2009

Monday of Holy Week

The morning after Palm Sunday I find myself shifting into "Holy Week Mode." For me that means finishing all the bulletins from all the services this week, making lists of what needs to be done, setting up files for every service so that I can just toss anything that comes up into each one and maybe, just maybe, I'll find things when I need them.

So that's what I did this morning, on Monday of Holy Week, April 18, 2011. Maundy Thursday bulletin done. Lists started. Appointments for home communion made. Easter bulletin started. Gave thanks for John Ames working on Good Friday service and Sunrise Service! ... Check, check, check ... it feels good to take things OFF the list.

But all day long I've felt unsettled ... but finally realized this is the way I always feel when Holy Week begins. It's not because there's a lot to do, although there is. But rather I think what it feels like is entering a "time apart." Yes, work goes on. Life goes on.

But I think for me it feels like I'm entering a "thin place" this week ... one of those places and times where I feel more directly and most intimately God's presence. It's almost like my skin is sensitive to the touch of the Spirit and I wait, holding my breath, for what is about to happen. And what will happen? In and around worship and conversations, in silence and prayer, at the store or over breakfast ... where will I see God this week?

So I start walking into Holy Week with this prayer from "Common Order", Panel on Worship, Church of Scotland (1994):

Lord Jesus Christ,

in this sacred and solemn week

when we see again the depth and mystery of your redeeming love,

help us

to follow where you go,

to stop where you stumble,

to listen when you cry,

to hurt as you suffer,

to bow our heads in sorrow when you die,

so that when raised to life again

we may share your endless joy.

Amen.

Sara

"Lift up your Hearts"

For weeks after leaving Chestertown, I have avoided going to church on Sunday morning. I have touted a long list of excuses. I am exhausted after a week of 4:30 AM wake-up calls and Army reveille. More than this, in chaplain school, we pray multiple times each day, and listen to daily sermons. Doesn’t that somehow count toward Sunday worship? When the weekend rolls around, the last thing I want to do is force myself to pray and worship in a way that doesn’t feel authentic to my own tradition. There are no Iona worship booklets or hymns from the Scottish hymnary, or even any hymns from a hymnal. Most of the worship available on post is geared toward a more contemporary, evangelical audience. I do love a well played guitar, but, throughout my entire life, Sunday morning has been reserved for something else, something different. In my heart, of course, I know that I have been avoiding Sunday worship so that I might avoid the heartache I feel over moving away from home and being separated from my church family.

Last weekend, while I was visiting the town where I went to college, I decided it was time to break my streak of church skipping and face reality. My college minister is a rector at a local Episcopal church and though it wouldn’t be the same as going to church at home, reconnecting with her and my liturgical roots, would be special. I arrived as the service began and the announcement was made that my friend, the priest, would be away on a Sabbatical. I had a split second to stay or leave. As disappointed as I was not to see this friend and worship with her, I had a feeling that I had come into that sacred space for another reason altogether.

I spent the first half of my life in the Episcopal church. The prayers, creeds and liturgy drawn from the Book of Common Prayer are the first words I learned to articulate God and faith. Each week, from the time I was old enough to escape the nursery, these prayers were grafted upon my heart before I knew what any of it meant. “Lift up your hearts,” “Walk in love,” and “Send us now into the world in peace...with gladness and singleness of heart,” these phrases, and many more, are the threads which have bound my faith from childhood, and no matter how I may have grown as a follower of Christ, no matter how many other words I have learned, these first ones remain a part of me.

I was reminded of my own enthusiasm for church when I was a young, as I watched a pre-schooler take part in the liturgy of the Holy Eucharist. Throughout the Great Thanksgiving she stood intently in the aisle of the church, pretending, herself, to be the priest. Facing the altar, she made priestly gestures as the prayers were read-- the sign of the cross, a raised hand, and a dramatic bow as the bread was blessed. She may not know the details of what it all means, but she knew that whatever it was taking place in these moments, it was sacred.

As we all gathered around the Communion rail, small, smooth hands as well as the older, wrinkled ones, reaching out for a bit of the bread of life, a taste of that spiritual food, the sacrament of body and blood, I realized why I had come. Participating in this meal was just the reminder I needed. No matter where I am in the world, home is only as far as the pilgrims who gather to break bread and share cup around God’s table. I found this table long ago. Before I even understood what it meant, I lifted my hands to be fed, knowing whatever was taking place around this table, it was a means of finding fuller life. I am grateful, even through my homesickness and tears, to remember this and find my voice again so I can give God thanks and praise.

Binding Our Hearts

“Bind them upon your heart always; tie them around your neck.” Proverbs 6:21

The day of my ordination, two friends gave me a bracelet as a gift for the occasion. Inscribed upon the bracelet was the “Shema Israel,” a passage found in the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy. For two years, while I was in South Africa, I wore the bracelet every day. Often, when I was in lengthy worship services, struggling to understand or stay tuned into prayers and songs in a language that was not my own, this bracelet was a saving grace. I would look down at the Hebrew words which wrapped around my wrist, and I would recite their meaning in silence.

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem* on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” Deuteronomy 6:4-9

It was a reminder of where I had come from and of what was required for faithfulness, even thousands of miles away from home. Whenever I was called upon, to preach or pray, particularly in the wake of the death of a church member, or right before I walked into a house full of mourners, I would touch this bracelet, and I would find a little more courage to follow its instruction, despite my fear.

While most Christians know the Ten Commandments, many are not familiar with the Shema. They don’t know that these verses follow on the heels of the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy, the chapters juxtaposed next to the other, or that observant Jews begin and end each day of life praying these words. At the time of death, these verses are often spoken as a last affirmation of faith in God. These words are at the very heart of the Jewish faith. Remember when Jesus was asked to name the greatest commandment, he recited the words of the Shema. If the Torah could be paired down into a “thesis statement,” many would argue that these verses would be the answer.

I wonder what it would be like to pray these same words every day throughout life, after waking up and before going to sleep, these verses becoming the bookends to whatever else the day might hold. I imagine that once this prayer becomes a habit, once it is grafted upon a person’s heart so well that nothing can erase it, reciting this prayer is like taking a breath. Whether or not we are aware of our breathing, as long as we live, our breath exists. We can count on it. For some, faith may follow a similar pattern. Just as our body breathes instinctively, without constant reminder, praying this prayer no longer requires memory. Instead, over time this prayer becomes an underlying refrain in one’s life, and in some seasons louder than others. But, always it is an echo of the faithful from other times and places.

A few days ago, I was talking to a young woman about going to church. For years, she had avoided the faith of her upbringing, finding other things to fill her days and other ways to connect with community. But, the birth of her daughter changed her heart. For her child’s sake, it was time for her to be serious about church. It was as if she was responding to the words of the Shema. Teach them to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Though her daughter is still young, she recognizes that binding this little girl’s heart with God, inscribing the ways of faithfulness into her genetic fabric, begins at birth, in the morning and at night, at home and while away.

Over the coming weeks, we will continue reading Brian McLaren’s book, Finding Our Way Again, and we will discuss the practices of our faith with help us bind our hearts to God. Following God’s statutes is not, in the end, what saves us. God’s grace and love are solely responsible for that. We are reminded, though, that God’s instruction is food for the journey. When practices, like prayer, fasting, Sabbath, and others, become a daily part of our lives, they further bind our hearts with God. Proverbs speaks of practicing these commandments saying, “When you walk, they will lead you; when you lie down, they will watch over you; and when you awake, they will talk with you. For the commandment is a lamp and the teaching a light, and the reproofs of discipline are the way of life (Pro. 6:20-23).” May we cherish this gift of light and use it well, making our way home again.

Finding Our Way

A friend asked me the other day what I thought was the most important thing that every person needed for their journey of faith. I attempted to answer his question in the moment, but it has lingered with me over these days as I have thought about my own faith journey and the integral pieces which have brought me further into life with God. When I consider what has made much of the difference for my own faith, a patchwork of faces and moments shared with incredible mentors always comes to mind. I remember times of great anxiety or uncertainty when an encounter with one of these friends helped me to re-cast my anchor into the sea of doubt that surrounded me and threatened to capsize my boat. Often answers to the great questions were not the object of our discussions. Instead, across the table, in the presence of a trusted companion, I had the chance to reorient and find my bearings. In these conversations, I was reminded that Jesus choose the tumult of a great storm to walk through crashing waves and extend a hand to his friends whose faith had been shaken, saying, “I am here. Do not be afraid.”

I have always appreciated the metaphor of faith as making a journey. Our lives with God require us to travel a path with very few signposts or visible markers which point us in the right direction. Instead what we have are stars which shed just enough light to help us through some rather dark times. These light bearers come in many forms. Often mentors and friends have taken time to share their light, holding lanterns along my path so that I may better find my way. Those who have walked this bit of the road before and taken time to mark this place are a reminder that no matter how lost I may feel, someone else has felt this lost, too. One particular practice of pilgrimage is for the traveler to leave stones in different places along the way as a reminder to those who follow that this ground has been already tread. In our wildernesses, where darkness, doubt, and low-visibility reign, even mounds of stones are a welcome symbol that we are never far from God or one another, even when all evidence points to the contrary.

For the next few weeks, our Thursday night small group is going to be reading a book which offers light and aid for our spiritual journeys. In his book, Finding out Way Again: The Return of the Ancient Practices, Brian McLaren discusses Christian faith as a way of life. He urges those of us who call ourselves Christian, followers of Jesus, to understand faith not as a system of beliefs but instead as a refining process which requires our whole life and being. Each week, we will be reading, discussing, and praying about our own journeys of faith, and we will seek to discover the mounds of stones which have been left for us to learn from by those who have walked the road before us. In this process, we may even leave a few stones of our own to share with the pilgrims who are sure to follow.

I am thankful for every lantern and stone which has appeared on the scene just when I needed them. As I have grown older, I have also realized that the time has come for me to put extra oil in my own lantern and look around to notice where other travelers may need the light of a star to guide their way. Learning and sharing, this dance shifts back and forth until the destination has been reached. In memories and words, in stories and traditions left for us like mounds of stones along the path, we find our way home.

Following the Star

From the Sermon by Sara this past Sunday, 1/9/11 - a day when we remembered the journeys of the 3 Magi ... "A Word to the Wise":

In the wave of post-Christmas news reports about shoppers standing in long lines to return their unwanted or mis-sized Christmas gifts, I caught a news report that the giant Internet store of amazon.com has received a patent for a new service they are adding to their online store. It seems that they have figured out a way to convert that unwanted Christmas fluorescent red and green necktie from Aunt Sara into something you might actually want or even perhaps use.[1]

The customer can place a standing “conversion” order so that I could tell them: if anyone tries to send me an “Albert Einstein Action Figure” please convert it into a gift card or a sweater … or something else I might actually like to have. And so the original unwanted gift won’t be sent … and the new one will.

Or, I can also tell them to stop any gift from a particular person. So if Aunt Sara is known for sending you things you don’t want – like bedroom slippers with bells on them or “how to” books to improve your life – you tell amazon.com: “Whatever Aunt Sara tries to send me, please DON’T SEND IT and instead convert it into …” and you can tell them what you want the gift to become instead of whatever Aunt Sara wants to give me.

And, for an additional cost of course, I can also have Amazon.com send a thank you note to Aunt Sara thanking her for the original gift she wanted to give me so she would never know (unless of course she comes to visit and asks where it is … amazon does not have a service for that, at least as of now). Although for those who might feel a tad guilty about this deception, you can have amazon.com send Aunt Sara a note thanking her for the original gift, but letting her also know you converted it into a gift card or whatever.

While Emily Post and Miss Manners did not have many kind words to say about this, our college-age nephews, when I asked them, thought this was awesome … which may explain why gifts from Aunt Sara and Uncle Bob now come in the form of dollar bills.

But let me take an informal poll this morning: how many of you think this is an awesome idea? How many of you think it’s an awful idea? [NOTE: an overwhelming response by our congregation was in the AWFUL category … but there were some who agreed it was awesome … and I wonder if people were afraid to raise their hands to say it was a terrific idea! Lots of peer pressure in worship … ]

An informal online poll at National Public Radio had 65% of people responding saying it’s awesome and 35% saying it’s awful.

Given that up to 30% of gifts given are returned each year – the costs to the retailers run in the millions and perhaps billions of dollars to process a returned unwanted gift and then exchange it for something else. In our challenged economy I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone figured out how to do this to save money. I can understand and even applaud the cost-saving idea behind this, even as I line up on the awful idea side of this one.

Yet, as all of us struggle to figure out what to do with all the “stuff” we have, most of which we no longer want or need … maybe this isn’t as heartless and callous as it first sounds, but is actually a step toward good stewardship for both the giver and the receiver of the gift.

I can understand the enthusiasm of our nephews: What if we only got what we actually wanted?

But that’s the real question, isn’t it?

What if we only ever got what we actually wanted?

And not just getting that new book we’ve been wanting to read or a sweater that fits … but to get everything we want: peace on earth, let alone peace of mind, or healing for our loved ones and answers to the questions that keep us up at night. What if we could send back everything in our lives that we don’t like?

My “convert this gift” list could be endless.

But we know that life is not like that and we do not always get everything we want.

That was clearly brought home to me as I read the journals that have traveled with our 3 wise men these past 2 weeks. I had asked those who had “hosted” one of the wise men overnight to share what wisdom they had learned in their lives and what words they would use to describe their own journeys of faith.

It became very clear to me that no one has ever found that they had always gotten everything that they wanted – but along the way they found that they had received gifts that they could never have imagined … the kind of gifts that unfold and surprise us over time. Again and again, people spoke of learning along the way that in whatever circumstances, even in adversity, they also found hope, comfort, trust, contentment, courage, they learned to live with mystery and to experience doubt as a partner with faith.

In the end, maybe that’s what we are to remember each year at Epiphany. For the word “Epiphany” simply means “to reveal” … as Jesus Christ is revealed as Savior and Son of God first to the wise men from the East … but then to all generations and to each of us. So we continue to receive from God’s hands, through Christ, gifts we may never have asked for, but which continue to surprise us … and sustain us … for our own journeys along the way.

We are met here with the gift that is nothing that we could make happen. A gift that is the fulfillment of more than everything we could have hoped for or dreamed of.

A Gift that continues to be revealed to us in all of its mystery – in Word made flesh, in cross and resurrection, and in countless ways throughout our lives as God’s Holy Spirit makes a home among us, and within us, and through us.

So in honor of Epiphany, I want to send you home today with a gift. (At this point in the service, the Ushers distributed the offering plates with paper stars in them … with words written on them.)

There is no return or exchange policy on this gift … and unlike amazon.com, you can’t convert it into something else. And, while you certainly have the option to refuse it, I hope that you will consider receiving it instead.

In a moment, while we sing our next hymn, the ushers will be passing baskets among us. Only you won’t put anything in the basket. Instead, you will take out something: a star – one per person.

On one side of each star is a word … a word that is a gift to you for this coming year. Take a star … without looking at the word first … and let it be a gift to you to remind you throughout the year of God’s continuing presence in your life.[2]

It may be obvious from the moment you look at it what the word means to you … or maybe not. Maybe its significance has yet to be revealed and it will only take on new meaning for you over the coming days and months.

I encourage you to put the star somewhere where you will see it and over this year I would love to hear from you what the word means for you in your journey.

But for today - simply receive this word as a reminder of God’s presence in your life. And to remind you of our generous, giving God who keeps giving, and keeps breaking through our darkness … one star at a time.
May it be so. Amen.

NOTE TO READERS of the Blog ... Because of the randomness of selecting a "star" if you would like a "star word gift" - please email me at: pastorsara@verizon.net and I'll send you a word ... randomly chosen of course!
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[1] There are numerous articles online about this new patent. Articles can be found online at The Washington Post (http://www.washingtonpost.com/ – online article by Michael S. Rosenwald (12/26/2010) “Amazon patents procedure to let recipients avoid unwanted gifts”); or at National Public Radio (http://www.npr.org/ – online article and recording of radio news report by Mark Memmott (12/28/2010) “Amazon Could Let You Return a Gift Before It’s Sent”). A search online will turn up other business news articles about this new patent.
[2] This is modeled on the “Star Gifts” of East Woodstock Congregational Church in East Woodstock, CT, shared in the journal Reformed Worship no. 93, p. 36-38.