Movements of the Spirit, a Sermon

Cleveland Park Church

3400  Lowell

Washington, DC

May 19, 2013

The story we have today in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles is, of course, a fascinating story and worthy of our full and undivided attention.  But we decided to focus today more on the subject of this story, namely the work of the Holy Spirit, and how the Spirit works with us today.  To assist us in that focus I am going to lead you in some brief and easy movements of body and breath.  And I am going read you a children’s’ story and tell a rather long personal story.  I  don’t believe I have ever done that in my sermons here or anywhere else.  I learned the art of preaching from people who warned against personal stories from the pulpit.  The personality of the preacher is of no interest in the Calvinist tradition.  The preacher’s job is just to illuminate the scriptures. 

So in a nod to our Calvinist tradition, let me say just a few words about the Book of Acts.  Biblical scholars have ripped into the book and concluded that much of it could not have happened the way St. Luke says it did.  But we cannot help concluding that something extraordinary obviously happened.  Something very important happened to these people whom the Gospels all portray as none too competent and in Paul’s case none too nice.  Something happened to these mostly illiterate people to make them fearless public speakers who changed the world some 2,000 years ago and whose preaching and example is still sending out shock waves.

Luke tells us that a sound came from heaven like the rush of a mighty wind and it filled all the house where they were sitting, and tongues as of fire appeared and rested upon each of the disciples.  Did it happen exactly like this?  Does this sort of thing still happen?  Does God still intervene in our lives like this?  Is there anything we can do to make God intervene?

These are difficult questions to answer, and as we attempt to answer them we are at ground zero of some of the most disputed territory in the history of Christianity. 

As a congregational church, we are the direct descendants of some people, Augustine, Luther, Calvin who taught that there is not much we can do about the workings of God and the Holy Spirit.  God is sovereign and we people are such flawed creatures that there is really nothing we can do to merit God’s love.  The Sovereign deity simply chooses whom to save.  All we can do is celebrate the fact of salvation with the singing of hymns and attending to the Word of God. 

 On the other hand, an equally distinguished group of theologians including Thomas Aquinas, John Wesley, St. Ignatius and a contemporary of Augustine named Pelagius asserted to the contrary that people are not completely depraved and are capable of doing at least a few things to make it easier for God to work through us.  This has become the more popular tradition in recent years. 

Whatever your view of the matter, please know that you are welcome in church this morning.  If you’re a Wesleyan, we thank you for choosing to come; if you’re a strict Calvinist, thank God for bringing you here.

And now we’re going to engage in a little Wesleyan experiment.  We’re going to do just a little something that may help the Spirit work through us this morning & who knows, perhaps for the rest of the week. 

But first, I’m going to read you a story from The House at Pooh Corner.  I’m sure you have read it but perhaps you have forgotten that one day Pooh, Piglet and Rabbit went out for a walk on a misty overcast day, got lost and ended up in a sand-pit at the top of the forest.  Every time they left the sand-pit in an effort to get home, they somehow ended up back at the sand-pit.  While Pooh and Piglet confessed to being hopelessly lost, Rabbit stoutly maintained that he knew where they were and could easily find the way home if only they would try again.  So Pooh devised a little test:  Rabbit, if you’re so smart, can you leave us and hop away a hundred yards or so into the mist and find your way back?

  “If I walked away from this Pit, and then walked back to it, of course I should find it,” said Rabbit.

  “Well, I just thought perhaps you wouldn’t,” said Pooh.  “I just thought.”

  “Try,” said Piglet suddenly.  “We’ll wait here for you.”

Rabbit gave a laugh to show how silly Piglet was, and walked into the mist.  After he had gone a hundred yards, he turned and walked back again . . . and after Pooh and Piglet had waited twenty minutes for him, Pooh got up.

  “I just thought,” said Pooh.  “Now then , Piglet, let’s go home.”

But, Pooh,” cried Piglet, all excited, “do you know the way?”

  “No,” said Pooh.  “But there are twelve pots of honey in my cupboard, and they’ve been calling to me for hours.  I couldn’t hear them properly before, because Rabbit would talk, but if nobody says anything except those twelve pots, I think, Piglet, I shall know where they’re calling from.  Come on.”

  They walked off together; and for a long time Piglet said nothing, so as not to interrupt the pots; and then suddenly he made a squeaky noise . . . and an oo-noise . . . because he now began to know where he was; but he still didn’t dare say so out loud, in case he wasn’t.  And just when he was getting so sure of himself that it didn’t matter whether the pots went on calling or not, there was a shout from in front of them, and out of the mist came Christopher Robin. 

So you see, the calm, centered self, aka Pooh Bear, can indeed save itself provided, of course, that it banishes the ever-chattering, distracting, multi-tasking, self-deceived self.

Now we’re going to investigate this truth through movement.

I then led the congregation through four movements: Seaweed, Upper Body Twist, Half-Moon and Chair. 

Added information:

People have been moving in imitation of nature for some 100,00 years

Directions:  Breathe evenly and deeply.  Accept that you are who you are, where you are and how you are & see then if you can bend or twist a little more.  Then just maybe the Holy Spirit may come along and give you a little nudge.

And that little nudge might be a lot.

Thank you for your cooperation, for bending, stretching and breathing.

Now remember I promised you another story, a story that partly explains how I got interested in movement, breath and so on and might give us something to think about. 

The story begins at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, in September of 1974, almost forty years ago.  One of the first people I met there was Eugenia Lee Hancock of Bluefield, West Virginia.  We met one evening in the makeshift student pub in the basement of the vast complex of gothic towers on 120th and Broadway in New York City.  Somehow I found myself in a small group of people, no more than three or four, and Lee was telling us what she had done that summer. 

Because of her lifelong activity in youth groups or whatever, she had been part of a rather lengthy series of conversations with various leaders of the Presbyterian Church, elders, presbyters, executive presbyters, ministers, lay people, and a youth delegate on the topic of church renewal; or in terms of our purpose today, how to fill churches with the Holy Spirit.  Somehow discussion of the human potential movement came up and these Presbyterians decided that it was worth looking into for its relevance to church renewal, which surely made Luther, Calvin and Augustine, looking down from heaven extremely nervous.  The Presbyterians decided that they should look into the matter at the source, namely the Esalen Institute and that they should send someone there to investigate and report back and decided further that the youth delegate should be the one to go, to the Esalen Institute, in Big Sur, on the central coast of California, where mountains rise immediately out of the ocean , where hot water gushes out of the ground and is channeled into enormous stone bathtubs that can comfortably fit about a dozen people at a time.  There went Eugenia Lee Hancock of Bluefield, West Virginia, 23 years of age, for one month, all expenses paid, take as many workshops as you want and report back.

That evening she was still aglow from the experience.  It was obvious that something very important had happened during this month and that this Esalen Institute was someplace I had to go.  So as soon as I had a steady job some ten years later as a chaplain at Dartmouth College, I made my first trip to Esalen.  I have been back for at least a week or so almost every year since.

So let me give you just a brief account of one of my most moving experiences there, which I interpret very much as an experience of the Holy Spirit.  I have no better terms for it.

It was January of 1991 and I was at Esalen for a five-day workshop.  We met three times a day for two hours.  There were two workshop leaders, Jessica and Scott and fifteen participants.  On a winter afternoon it was starting to get dark, about 4 o’clock.  This workshop had a format similar to many at Esalen and now elsewhere:  over the course of a week everyone had the opportunity to share his or her life story with the group.  People shared dreams, talked about their marriages, their jobs, their families.  We had been together for a few days, had heard a lot of stories, so we felt comfortable with each other.  It was my turn.  After I had spoken for a very minutes, Jessica, the leader that afternoon, suggested that I stop talking and just sit quietly, eyes closed, meditate for a moment or two and simply report what I was experiencing. 

Understand?  Get Rabbit, the conscious mind out of there?

I was not terribly happy with that assignment for I was not then, am not now nor have I ever been very fond of sitting meditation.  I squirm a lot.  My mind wanders.  I fidget.  My knees hurt.  I want to scratch something.  Anyway, I followed directions.  

After not very long, I reported the obvious thing to report in such a circumstance: that I felt very nervous and self-conscious and on the spot, etc.

“Mmmm-hmm,” said Jessica and repeated the instructions.  “Just keep your eyes closed, breathe and report what is happening.” 

That calmed me down and I began to just pay attention.

Of course, for a few moments, nothing was happening.  There was nothing to report.  I breathed in, and breathed out.  It was quiet.

Then I reported that I felt a distinct surge of energy.  If that had been all I experienced that afternoon, it would have been remarkable enough.  My breathing deepened and I felt like I had never felt before, like something much more powerful than I had just taken over.  I was not breathing – I was being breathed.

Then I reported an even more powerful infusion of energy and I felt the center of my forehead pulsing powerfully, unmistakably, in and out.  I felt warm, alive, energized.

Nobody said anything.  Nobody had said anything about third eyes or somatic responses to meditation.  This was certainly remarkable enough.

Then I had to report that I sensed very distinctly in my mind’s eye – or wherever- the presence of beings who were with me in the room, but who did not have a physical presence in the room.  However they were – unmistakably – present.

And they were beaming at me, most lovingly beaming at me.  Beaming?  You mean with faces, smiling?  Well, they didn’t exactly have faces.

After just a few moments, I found this love impossible to bear and I burst into tears.

What exactly happened after that I have trouble remembering.  It was fully dark by then.  I’m sure I got a lot of hugs from group members and we all left for dinner.

Now, what does this experience prove?  I’m not sure it proves anything, but it suggests a lot.  First of all, experienced meditators don’t find this story very surprising.  They have heard about and in some cases experienced levitation and travel to distant galaxies, so this is not all that unusual. 

What I notice some twenty years later in the context of church and the Bible is that in Genesis I, the Spirit of God moves upon the waters.  In Genesis 2 God breathes the breath of life into the human.  The word for breath and spirit is the same.  Thus the Holy Spirit has been with us from the beginning and is with us with every breath we take.  I really believe that.  God is loving us all the time, with every breath, every step of the way.

All I did to get this remarkable experience was pay attention to my breath in the context of community.  Although the fifteen or so people with me that afternoon did not say or do anything, they paid attention and that made a huge difference.  Thus I suggest the royal road to living a spirit-filled life is to pay attention to your breath and spend time with people who pay attention.  Do that and the Spirit will rock your world. 

On the Changing Nature of War and War Memorials

For this post, I simply direct readers to a video of my talk at the Mill Valley Rotary Club last July.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1D4i3fJrC8

Sermon Washington, DC

Let me begin this morning by thanking our Pastor Ellen for inviting me to preach this morning and by thanking all of you for listening to me, not just a couple of months ago, but on the many occasions of my speaking from this pulpit and for all the support I have received from this congregation over - can you believe it? - the past 12 years now.

In the church calendar, we just celebrated Ascension Thursday and we look forward next week to celebrating Pentecost, the coming of the Holy Spirit fifty days or seven weeks after the crucifixion of Jesus.  Next weekend we also will celebrate Memorial Day here in the US.

Today I am not going to say much about history, as I have a history of doing.  Instead I am going to begin with a couple of stories by way of introducing today's lesson.   The second of these stories will be about a rabbi whom I heard speak at the Washington Rotary Club just ten days ago.  His presentation was so good and it consisted of just two little stories, so I thought I'd do likewise.  Monkey see monkey do. 

So:  two stories, one about a rabbi, but first a story about a librarian and me.  I love odd conversations that take place with strangers in the course of a day.  They sometimes are an occasion for grace entering your life.  This is what our lesson for today is about:  an unexpected meeting between Jesus, a Pharisee and an unnamed woman, a truly graceful encounter.

I just returned from my 20-year reunion at the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard.  I had a great time there 20 years ago and a great time over the weekend.  I had numerous fun encounters there, with old friends, with professors, with the people who make espresso.  Cambridge is always exciting; When the weather is nice, Cambridge is also just a lot of fun.

One day, back then, twenty years ago, I was preparing to say a few words at an informal Easter Service for the Grad Christian Fellowship.  And I needed a Bible.

So I went over to the undergraduate library in Harvard Yard to get a Bible.  The undergraduate library, named after some New England worthy, no doubt, whose name I've forgotten, has open stacks. You can wander in, find your book and proceed to checkout.  So I found a Revised Standard Version and stopped at the desk to fill out the requisite paperwork - this was before computerized everything.  The slip of paper, in triplicate - remember? - called for my name, ID#, title of book and author.  OK.  Easy enough.  Name, ID, Title  . . . . Author. 

Hmmmm.

Title:  Bible, obviously.

Author:  Just to have fun, I wrote "GOD."

And placed the paper in front a Harvard college kid just to see what she would do with it.

She read it, looked at me to check for any obvious signs of mental disorder, then picked up a pencil and added to the word GOD a comma and two little words: "et al."

When we get an unexpected gift, we call it grace.  The title of today's sermon is The Heart of the Gospel and the heart of the Gospel is Grace, et al, as I will attempt to show.

Story # 2.  is about Rabbi Shmuel Hertzfeld, who calls himself a progressive orthodox rabbi.  He gave me the idea for a sermon titled the Heart of the Gospel.  Herztfeld means 'heartfield' by the way, but it was not his name that gave me the idea, it was the answer he gave to a question I asked after his talk at the Washington Rotary Club.  For that talk, he told just two stories, as I said and told them so well that he had some 100 Washington attorneys, lobbyists and other self-important people eating out of his hand.  But he did not talk about the Bible. 

This disappointed me because I love to hear rabbis talk Bible.  So when there was time for questions I raised my hand and asked him not to name his favorite line from scripture - that sounded a little too obvious, or something - so I asked, Rabbi, if you're having a bad day and you really need some inspiration, what lines from scripture do you read? 

I was hoping he would say well Rabbi Nachman of Tilsit recommends this passage and Rabbi Zusia from somewhere else recommends that, but I recommend something from Deuteronomy, Jeremiah. . . But he did not do that.  Instead, he said

"When I'm having a bad day, I don't read the Bible at all.  I go to visit the sick in the hospital.  I make myself of service and that makes me feel better."

For days afterward, I marveled at this lesson from Rabbi Shmuel of Washington, the progressive orthodox rabbi, who drives a 1994 Chevrolet station wagon with a menorah on top of it.

Yes, that is certainly true, I thought, performing acts of love and service is probably the best medicine there is; it's certainly very good.  Then, sometime over the next couple of days, the proverb popped into my head:

Those who love much are forgiven much. 

Yes, love much, perform acts of service and loving kindness and you and your friends and family will forget or forgive you for the mistakes you've made and they'll remember the good instead.  What a wonderful proverb.  Where does it come from?   Must come from the Bible.  So I looked it up and, well, not exactly.   Today's Gospel according to Luke seems to be the source of the proverb, but it does not have those exact words in that exact order.

Now before we begin our investigation, let me ask:

How many of you recognize the proverb: "Those who love much are forgiven much"?

How many recognize it but think I might have not quoted it quite correctly?  Could it be:

Those who are forgiven much love much

Those who love much forgive much

Those who forgive much love much

Let's read on and see what we've got here.  As we have read this morning, a woman enters Simon's house where Jesus is at table and spontaneously, unexpectedly washes Jesus's feet.  Jesus and Simon, his host, then have a little discussion of this incident, at the end of which Jesus commends the woman for her loving service, forgives the woman's sins and tells her to go in peace.  And Simon?  Well, he leaves Simon hanging there.  Something like this story is included in the other three Gospels, but none of the others conclude by connecting love and forgiveness.

In Mark's Gospel, a woman pours expensive ointment over the head of Jesus at the house of Simon the leper and various people present get upset because this expensive stuff could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.  There is nothing in Mark about the nature of the woman or her name or the names of anyone else there.  Simon the leper is mentioned only because it's his house.  He neither says nor does anything. 

In Matthew's Gospel, the story is almost the same, only it is the disciples who are identified as those complaining about the cost of this gesture.

John takes us away from the house of Simon the Leper and places us in the house of Lazarus and brings in Mary and Martha to attend to Jesus.  Martha characteristically makes dinner and Mary characteristically engages in an act of devotion.  She pours a jar of perfume on Jesus’ feet and wipes his feet with her hair.  And the house is filled with the fragrance.  So we have gone from the anointing of Jesus's head to the anointing and wiping of his feet.  Then it is Judas, not the disciples or anyone else, who complains about the cost.

In none of these accounts does Jesus say anything to Simon or to the woman or anything about love or the forgiveness of sins.  Jesus simply rebukes the disciples or those present for their outrage and says that this gesture, however extravagant, is fully justified.

Now we're ready to take a look at Luke, in detail.

36 Then one of the Pharisees asked Him to eat with him. And He went to the Pharisee’s house, and sat down to eat.

37 And behold, a woman in the city who was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at the table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of fragrant oil, 38 and stood at His feet behind Him weeping; and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head; and she kissed His feet and anointed them with the fragrant oil.

The woman, still unnamed but identified as a sinner, does not just anoint the feet of Jesus, but washes them with her tears and wipes them with her hair and kisses them and anoints them with oil. 

39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he spoke to himself, saying, “This Man, if He were a prophet, would know who and what manner of woman this is who is touching Him, for she is a sinner.”

Simon figures that Jesus cannot be a prophet because if he were, he would perceive the sort of woman this was and would not allow her anywhere near him, let alone touch him, (or engage with him so sensuously.)

Jesus then shows that he is at least some kind of prophet because he reads Simon's thoughts and tells him a little story.

41 “There was a certain creditor who had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 And when they had nothing with which to repay, he freely forgave them both. Tell Me, therefore, which of them will love him more?”  43 Simon answered and said, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”  And He said to him, “You have rightly judged.”

We have moved in a twinkling from a story about a sinful woman who has done something improper, in Simon's opinion, to the world of creditors and debtors.  We have the story of a creditor who forgives two debtors - just like the Lord's Payer tells us - one of fifty and another of 500 denarii. 

So which debtor will love the creditor more?  Well, the one who was forgiven the most debt, the one who owed 500 denarii, says Simon.

If we stop the story right here, then the proverb should be:

"Those who are forgiven much, love much."  Those who have been forgiven a lot are grateful that they got off so easy & so they lead more loving lives, and give as they have been given.

Jesus says to Simon, "You have rightly judged."  You pass this little exam.  So far, so good.

Now the plot thickens. 

44 Then He turned to the woman and said to Simon,

I find this really interesting.  Some experts say the 75% of communication is non-verbal.  I don't know about that, but I am certain that body language, posture, gestures and voice tone are important.

How did he do this?  How did he turn to the woman, yet make clear that he was talking to Simon?

Did he turn to her, look at her and face her the whole time while talking to Simon?

I doubt it.

He's got to turn his head and look at Simon and at the woman as he delivers these lines, while his body is turned toward her alone.  She speaks seven sentences, while turned to the woman, yet speaking to Simon.

44 Then He turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman?

The question is rhetorical.  The answer is yes and no.  Yes, Simon sees the woman, but in another sense he does not and that's the problem.  Jesus perceives that Simon has pre-judged the woman.  To Simon, she IS a sinner, therefore what she does is sinful.  Simon does not see the good in her or in what she does.  So in the most important sense, he does not see the woman.

Jesus continues:

I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has washed My feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head.

45 You gave Me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss My feet since the time I came in.

46 You did not anoint My head with oil, but this woman has anointed My feet with fragrant oil.

47 Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.”

Thus Jesus talks to Simon and to the woman at the same time, giving a lesson to Simon and profoundly acknowledging her, all at the same time.

Thus the proverb should be:   "Those who love much are forgiven much." 

Then Jesus adds: "But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little."

This seems to be delivered right at Simon the Pharisee:  Simon, you've been forgiven little, you forgive little, you've been loved little and you love little.  If I were Simon at this point I would feel about two feet tall and want to excuse myself.

48 Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

At this point, the story seems over and could just as well end.

But there's more.

49 And those who sat at the table with Him began to say to themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”  As in the Gospel of John:  Who is this that even the seas and the wind obey him?

The story could end there.  But there's still more.

50 Then He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

The Greek is beautiful and onomotopoetic:

Ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε

πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην.

Hay pistis soo sesoken say

porewoo ace ayraynayn

This succession of sibilants fall like soft rain; the vowels dissolve you into the air,

Ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε

πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην.

Hay pistis soo sesoken say

porewoo ace ayraynayn

Your faith has saved you.   Go in peace.  This is the conclusion.  Luke concluded four stories, including this one, with these exact words.

But what has faith got to do with it?  Has Jesus introduced a new concept in the last verse of this chapter?  I don't think so.  Faith, love, forgiving, being forgiven, add hope to the list - they all work together.  Take one of them away and you lose the others.

Loving and forgiving are certainly related.  They might be the most difficult behaviors we ever perform.  Loving and forgiving involve are acts of will, certainly, but cannot simply be willed.  It's easy to decide to pick up a pencil, for example, and pick it up.  But it is far from easy to decide to love or forgive and then actually love or forgive.  We might say that love looks to the future; forgiveness to the past.  Perhaps we must free ourselves from the past in order to step into the future.

But how do we forgive what has happened without love?  The great Buddhist teacher Thich nat Han writes:

"Forgiveness will not be possible until compassion is born in your heart."

How can we care about someone, or a big group of someones, who has done us wrong?  And how can we have compassion, or love, without confidence in the future, that the future will not just repeat the errors of the past?  Confidence in the future we often call hope, or faith, or both.

Thus the heart of the Gospel I would say is Grace, the mysterious inpouring of God's power that enables us to do love and forgive, have faith and hope, et cetera.

Now I cannot conclude this sermon without saying a few good words about this story's obvious bad guy.  The unnamed woman is literally showered with soft words of forgiveness and peace.  And Simon?  Well, who knows what he took away from this lesson.  We all have days when we leap to conclusions about people that turn out to be unfair; there are only so many hours in a day and we only have so much patience; we harden our hearts periodically just in order to get through a day.  Hence the need of all of us for forgiveness. 

And let us remember this sermon was inspired by Rabbi Hertzfeld  - heartfield.  The rabbis are the successors of the Pharisees and the rabbinic tradition is full of heartfulness.  And there was no more faithful and heartful person on the planet recently than Rabbi Joshua Abraham Heschel.  Listen to what he wrote some sixty years ago:

“Faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart.” 

The heart of the Gospel, the heart of our Faith and I'm tempted to say all faiths is love and forgiveness.   In our story today, it is the unnamed woman who knows this.  It is for Simon and the rest of us to learn.

‎"Forgiveness is a selective remembering, in which we keep all the love that was ever given us and all the love that we ever gave. Let all the rest go into the nothingness from whence it came, and nothing but love will remain."

 - Marianne Williamson

May God grant us the ability to do this.

Sermon. March 11, 2012.

Cleveland Park Congregational Church
34th and Lowell
Washington, DC

I will be preaching on the Letter to the Romans today, but I will lead into an exposition of Romans by talking about some events that happened a while ago. I’ll be quoting from people who spoke at these events some 31 and 62 years ago, namely Leonard Rieser, who was both Provost and Dean of Faculty when I was a chaplain at Dartmouth College 31 years ago, and John Sloan Dickey, who was College President 62 years ago. Now you know the cast of characters, the main characters at least. Then I will talk about Paul, his message for us today and then I will focus on this congregation, here and now.

On Monday, September 21, 1981, Dartmouth College held its annual fall convocation at the beginning of the academic year. I well remember the occasion, for I had to deliver the Invocation. It was not difficult - I intoned a few verses of a Psalm, asked God’s blessing on the occasion and got out of the way, for much more important people than an associate college chaplain were ready and waiting to speak. It was the first convocation for a new president, David McLaughlin. He certainly had something to say. As did Elise Boulding, the faculty member chosen, as was customary, by her colleagues to say a few words.

But it was College Provost and Dean of Faculty Leonard Rieser who had the first words, after the invocation, and I have never forgotten them. He began by telling the 3000 people assembled a brief version of what Dartmouth President John Sloan Dickey had said on the same occasion 31 years previously, in 1950.

He began:

“This convocation takes place in the 212th year of this College, the 81st year of the 20th Century. We are little more that 18 years from the beginning of the next millennium. Before the freshmen present here today attend their 15th reunion, we shall leave this century and enter the next millennium. At the half-century mark, in September of 1950, President John Sloan Dickey, addressing convocation, took note of the state of the “outside world” by observing that ‘this particular perch, which we call earth, is rapidly becoming a precarious place for raising human beings.’
He went on to say: ‘What is new is not the evil in man, but the range of its opportunity and the immensity of its consequences. Within the last five years alone, the destructive potentialities of human error and evil have been increased beyond calculation.’
He cited three principal factors in this development: the great ideological conflict with the Soviet Union, the fantastic increase in the destructive power available to man, and the enormous potential of the mass media of communication, ‘to make the emotions and minds of millions the constant prey of the few.’
President Dickey spoke in 1950 from the perspective of World War II as part of the world was again at war. How extraordinarily prescient he was!”

Provost Rieser went on to list a few more examples of how different the world of 1950 was from the world of 1981. The list included no commercial jet aircraft in 1950, a mere handful of truly primitive computers, no interstate highways, plenty of oil . . . Yet, even then, in such seemingly primitive and safe conditions, the President of the College in 1950 saw fit to warn the assembled students and faculty of the dangers in their world at the beginning of the Korean War, telling them that the destructive potentials of their world had already been increased beyond calculation. Then Rieser concluded:

“Today, 31 years later, we still occupy this perch, so vastly more precarious, that it boggles the mind. I introduce this Convocation with these observations, beginning with President Dickey’s remarks in 1950, for two reasons. First to suggest that a liberal education today must include the development of the capacity to understand and address the hugely complex international relationships which will determine whether or not the millennium will be a period of joy, serenity, prosperity, and justice, or even whether it will be. And my second reason is that in September of 1950, President David McLaughlin was sitting where you are – with other members of his freshman class.”

Now I begin this sermon today at a time still near the beginning of Ellen Jenning’s pastorate because on September 21st of 1981 Pastor Ellen Jennings was sitting there that day with the other members of her freshman class.

31 years later, this trio of terrors first enunciated by President Dickey 31 years before still faces us, although in surprisingly different forms. I believe that this congregation, and this pastor are very well situated to respond creatively to these terrors of modern life. Let me briefly sketch out these terrors in their new 21st Century guise; then talk about our Biblical lesson for the day and the response that is already arising here on the corner of 34th and Lowell.

Firstly, the widest chasm of ideological conflict, namely the Cold War, astonishingly ended, but then it just as astonishingly transformed into the ideological conflict between militant Islam and the rest of the world. How this will work out in the future, we have no idea.

Secondly, the nuclear geni remains out of the bottle. The huge stockpile continues to come down, but the number of countries that have these devices continues to grow, so this threat is really just a little less than it was 31 years ago. The famous clock on the masthead of the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists was at 4 minutes to midnight in 1981. Today it is at 5 minutes. At its best in recent years it was at 14 minutes in 1991; at its worst was at 3 minutes in 1984.

Thirdly, the mass media of communication continue to make the emotions and minds of millions the constant prey of the few, in a staggering array of new ways. Of course, the mass media deliver their blessings as well, but let us say that the task of paying attention to the real world in which we live is more difficult than it has ever been. But it has never been easy. Paying attention, being present to your family and friends -- it’s not rocket science – it’s actually a lot more difficult. It is not a science it is an art. And it is an art that Christianity has always taught is aided by taking part in the life of a congregation.

In a congregation of a Sunday morning, we can come as we are, unplug ourselves from our cell phones, turn off our computers, turn off our televisions, put down our newspapers, suspend, to the extent possible, our media-informed judgments and pay attention as best we can, sing, listen and be neighbors to one another. Such simple activity may be the best way we have to keep the three terrors I have talked about at bay.

So here we are, March 11, 2012, in church; and in spite of all temptations, to be at other stations, (television, internet or otherwise) we are in church today. Is there any word from the Lord? I chose to focus on some words of Paul, whom I call the Apostle of Human Wholeness. Despite being shipwrecked, imprisoned, probably tortured, and attacked by mobs, he managed to praise in nothing short of poetic terms the joy of having a human body and taking part in the life of a human community.

Listen to what he wrote to a congregation in Rome, a long time ago, as if he were speaking to us today; and let him speak, since he lived a long time ago, in language that to us is ancient, namely the Shakespearean English of the King James Bible. I like this translation for it retains the ambiguities of the original and is better English than the Apostle’s Greek.

[1] I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.
“Present your bodies a living sacrifice, which is your reasonable service.” Present your bodies, not your work, not your wages, not your products, not the fruits of your labor, but your bodies. We would probably just say ‘dedicate your whole self to God.’ This is your reasonable service, adds the Apostle.

[2] And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
Now he says ‘mind.’ Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. ‘Mind’ is singular. He is talking about the mind of the entire congregation, the group mind. Yes, transformation for Paul is not an individual effort; it is a group process. Thus
be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind . . .
that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God . . .
that this entire physical entity will show to others the love and power of God . . .
that (said a more recent apostle) your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body. (Walt Whitman)

[3] For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.
First, in the Greek, Paul uses the word ‘being’. Thus, ”let every being among you think according as God hath dealt to everyone the measure of faith.”
More importantly, Paul is not telling us to have faith. He is telling us that we already have it -- God has given each one of us just the right amount. Our job is simply to recognize and bring forth what is already there. Faith is not something we’re reaching for: it’s already here. We already have it. God gave it to us, in just the right amount.

Here is what he has said so far: Present your bodies a living sacrifice to God. Be thereby transformed. Be honest with yourself and others. Take a fearless moral inventory. You can do this because God has given you faith.

Now the rest is easy:

[4] For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office:
[5] So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.
[6] Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us.
As within an individual body, each part cooperates for the whole, so also in a congregation, each one of us cooperates for the whole. We’re a team. What is difficult, even impossible for an individual, becomes easy as part of a team. In other words:

“We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” (Marianne Williamson)

See how deeply this passage has sunk into our culture? Did Whitman and the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous and Williamson and know that they were quoting it, borrowing from it, transmuting it? I don’t know.

I chose this lesson from Paul, because this congregation already gets this. This is what Ellen has been so graciously teaching us, that this congregation can work and sing together, like a choir.

I’m sure that there have been other events – I’ve been away quite a while – but just this last week, we had a discernment meeting after church. Upwards of forty people came. It was nothing special. It required no great technology. But that is how transformation in a congregation begins, with people just showing up and saying something like I’m Joe or Jill and I have been coming here for anywhere from 8 days to over 60 years. Then we shared our thoughts and dreams about this congregation and its future. Like the Kingdom of God, community is like a mustard seed that starts out small but grows into something big. That is what’s happening here.

We are not going to turn the CPCC into a cathedral. We don’t need to – there are three in this neighborhood already. But a small, neighborhood congregational church can be a powerful center of transformation without losing its essential character.

The philosopher Lewis Mumford wrote about the house that he and his wife bought when they were young. It was not much of a house. In fact it was a bit of a wreck. “But,” he wrote, “we gradually fell in love with our shabby house. No rise in our income has ever tempted us to look elsewhere for another house, still less to build a more commodious or fashionable one. In no sense was this the house of our dreams. But over our lifetime it has slowly turned into something better, the house of our realities. In all its year-by-year changes, under the batterings of age and the bludgeonings of chance, this dear house has enfolded and remodeled our family character—exposing our limitations as well as our virtues.”

If we do our work here of listening and speaking, and just being present, the terrors of modern life will fade into the background and the joys of life in community, despite all the batterings of age & bludgeonings of chance, will come foreground. This will be the church of our realities.

Finally, the perfect ending for this sermon appeared somehow on my computer last night. Yes, the mass media do deliver blessings. A distant friend shared the following:

"I'm waiting for a keynote where Apple says, 'We don't have a new, magical iPad for you. The magic was inside you all along. Now go outside.'"

The magic has been inside us all along. Now come to church.

On the American Landscape

Reflections on September 11, 2001

I spent a wonderfully peaceful day house-sitting in the Richmond Hills on September 10th, 2001. I worked on some writing projects in the morning and went for a long run that afternoon in the hills above the Bay, watched the sunset, listened to crickets, talked to some people walking their dogs.

I slept late the next day and found out from the carpenters working outside that something terrible had happened back east and I had better turn on the television.

We all have our memories of that day. Since I was by myself that day, I probably paid more attention to the television than most.

One of the commentators that day solemnly and grandiloquently claimed, as they do on such occasions, that the terrorist attacks had changed the landscape of America.

The events certainly changed the skyline of New York City. They took American policy in a new direction towards foreign intervention. History will judge how successfully. There is also a field in rural Pennsylvania that is changed forever into a site for grieving the deaths and honoring the heroism of the passengers who charged the cockpit of Flight 93.

Some three thousand people lost their lives, including a number of people from foreign countries and many religious faiths, including Muslims. The world economy took a multi-trillion dollar hit. We are still feeling the shock waves.

For Osama bin Laden and friends, it was unquestionably a good day’s work.

Did it change the landscape of America?

No.

President Dwight David Eisenhower changed the landscape of America when he signed the Interstate Highway Act of 1956 into law. That act, the largest public works program in history, forever changed the face of America, connecting this vast land, creating the suburbs, changing where we lived and how we got to work.

Instead of the twin towers, we’ll have a park and a new skyscraper. The Pentagon, a massive brute of a building, was repaired and functioning normally within a year. The memorial park there was dedicated in 2008.

The psychological and financial impact has been far greater, but even so, the financial shenanigans that led to the meltdown in 2008 have hurt America far more. In terms of our daily lives, the only long-term impact of that terrible day is the airport security regimen that was proposed and should have been adopted in the late 90s.

No terrorist act can hurt America as much as we are now hurting ourselves with our bitter and recriminatory politics. As for those killed ten years ago, their loved ones bear a grief too deep for words. All we can do as a nation is honor their memory and take steps to make sure this sort of attack will not happen again. In time, as Robert Kennedy said on the night of Martin Luther King’s assassination - quoting Aeschylus -

“In our sleep, the pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart; and in our despair, against our will, comes wisdom by the awful grace of God.”

Fourth of July Meditation

A sermon delivered at the Kenwood Community Church, Sonoma Valley, California.
By Richard Allen Hyde

Tomorrow, of course, is Pancake Day here in Kenwood. In the rest of the United States it is Independence Day, but here it is Pancake Breakfast Day. If you are here today and somehow do not know about the Pancake Breakfast tomorrow starting early in the morning, or 5k run, or the parade, well you should.

Today I will talk about great events that have taken place around this time of year. I will tell you the story of a remarkable encounter that took place about 75 years ago and use that incident to bring our attention to Abraham Lincoln’s use of scripture in his Second Inaugural Address.

On July 4, 1776, 235 years ago tomorrow, and in the days thereafter a number of distinguished gentlemen signed a document that would have been their death warrant had events turned out differently. Our War of Independence was an extraordinary stroke of luck. General Washington almost captured several times. He came through several battles unharmed after bullets flew all around him. The Continental Army was almost destroyed in Brooklyn. If the wind had shifted and the British fleet been able to move into position, it would have been. The conclusive surrender of General Cornwallis at Yorktown was the result of extraordinarily fortunate coincidences. A British fleet did not arrive. A French fleet did and army did, and the rest is history.

As Bismarck said, “God has a special place in his heart for fools, drunks and the US of A.” The Iron Chancellor envied the United States and hoped for the South to win the Civil War so that we would not become so powerful.

55 years ago this week, June 29, 1956, President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act. It was the largest public works project in American history up to that time. Perhaps no other act of Congress within our lifetimes has had such a deep and long-lasting impact on the country, changing where we live and work, transforming, for better or worse, our cities, creating the suburbs, and, undeniably, knitting the nation together.

Eisenhower's support of the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956 can be directly attributed to his experiences in 1919 as a participant in the U.S. Army's first Transcontinental Motor Convoy across the United States on the historic Lincoln Highway, which was the first road across America. The convoy left the Ellipse south of the White House in Washington D.C. on July 7, 1919, and headed for Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. From there, it followed the Lincoln Highway to San Francisco. Bridges cracked and were rebuilt, vehicles became stuck in mud, and equipment broke. The journey took two months. The fact that it took so long and the fact that from Illinois west through Nevada the roads were still unpaved, made quite an impact on the young Ike. When he encountered the autobahn in Germany in 1945 he made a vow to himself to improve America’s roads if he could, and he did.

On this date in 1863, July 3, 1863 the Battle of Gettysburg ended. The three-day battle, involved some 160,000 Americans and led to some 50,000 casualties. It was union victory and the final major Confederate offensive operation. It was as important and dramatic a battle as has ever been fought, with the fate of the nation hanging in the balance.

Just as importantly for the course of the Civil War, the very next day, Independence Day 1863, General Pemberton surrendered the city of Vicksburg and his entire garrison of 20,000 men to General Grant, thus leaving the Mississippi River open to navigation. When he received the news by telegram, President Lincoln remarked

"The Father of Waters again goes unvexed to the sea."

These events together marked the unmistakable turning point of the Civil War.

I promise to lead you into a study of today’s scriptures and how Lincoln used them and two others in his Second Inaugural Address. I will lead you into these scriptures and that address by way of telling you about an unusual encounter in eastern Europe in the summer of 1934, a story told by one of my literary heroes, who just died a few weeks ago at the age of 96.

Sir Patrick Leigh Fermor was born in 1915, making him a member of my parents’ generation. He was acclaimed during his lifetime as one of the finest travel writers ever. More importantly, he became a British undercover agent during World War II on the German-occupied island of Crete. There he teamed up with Cretan partisans to kidnap the German commandant and take him off the island to Cairo. It was a great adventure, which was turned into a book by one of his comrades-in-arms and eventually a movie. He was awarded the Distinguished Service Order, Order of the British Empire and knighted. Always Paddy to his friends, he lived large, made friends easily and knew at least something about everything.

He began his career after being thrown out of school in Canterbury, where I also studied for a year at the local university. He then set out at age 19, in December of 1933 to walk across Europe from Holland to Constantinople, which took almost two years. Taking only a sleeping bag, the Oxford Book of English Verse and a volume of Horace, he walked up the Rhine and down the Danube, sleeping in barns and shepherd huts along the way, finally arriving at Constantinople in 1935.

The two books he wrote - there is a third, unfinished - about this experience, in prose of which John Keats would have been proud, included the meeting up with some Jewish woodcutters in the mountainous forests of Transylvania. They communicated in German. One of the woodcutters was a rabbi – I’m not making this up; this is not a rabbi joke. Together with the rabbi’s sons and assistants they stopped for the evening to study Torah. Patrick Fermor was interested in languages, had a wonderful ability to make contact with people, and recited a few lines of some familiar psalms, translating in his head from English into German as he went. The rabbi and sons then would recite the Hebrew.

It must have been quite a session there in the lamplight of a summer evening in the forests of Rumania. Here is how he describes it:

“Everything took a different turn when scripture cropped up. The book in front of the Rabbi was the Torah, or part of it, printed in dense Hebrew black-letter that was irresistible to someone with a passion for alphabets; especially these particular letters, with their aura of magic. Laboriously I could phonetically decipher the sounds of some of the simpler words, without a glimmer of their meanings, of course, and this sign of interest gave pleasure. I showed them some of the words I had copied down in Bratislava from shops and Jewish newspapers in cafés, and the meanings, which I had forgotten, made them laugh; those biblical symbols recommended a stall for repairing umbrellas, or ‘Daniel Kirsch, Koscher Würst und Salami.’ How did the Song of Miriam sound in the original, and the Song of Deborah; David’s lament for Absalom; and the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley? The moment it became clear, through my clumsy translations into German, which passage I was trying to convey, the Rabbi at once began to recite, often accompanied by his sons. Our eyes were alight; it was a marvelous game. Next came the rivers of Babylon, and the harps hanging on the willows: this they uttered in unfaltering unison, and when they came to ‘If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,’ the moment was extremely solemn . . . After a few more moments like this, the other-worldly Rabbi and his sons and I were excited. Enthusiasm ran high. These passages, so famous in England, were double charged with meaning for them, and their enthusiasm was infectious. They seemed astonished – touched, too – that their tribal poetry enjoyed such glory and affection in the outside world . . .”

This ancient poetry truly does enjoy glory and affection in the outside world, even in these United States, and has throughout our history.

We read the Bible because it is paradigmatic. The Bible contains stories of promise and fulfillment and loss and disappointment; followed by a new promise, a new and unexpected fulfillment. This is the substance of life, as individuals, as a congregation, as a nation: promise, dreams, fulfillment, loss, disappointment, renewal of promise, another fulfillment, hope springs eternal; and so on.

So here we are July 3, 2011, Independence Day Weekend, 148 years after the battle of Gettysburg and the fall of Vicksburg, 146 years approximately after the Civil War ended, 235 years since the signing of the declaration.

The greatness of Abraham Lincoln consisted of many abilities and accomplishments, but none more important than his use of Biblical imagery, quotations, and thinking to enunciate the meaning and purpose of the Civil War and the meaning and purpose of this nation and our form of government. He did this in all of his speeches, which actually were rather few – a dozen major speeches and a few minor ones - but the two most important are the ones inscribed in the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, the Gettysburg Address and his Second Inaugural Address.

It is to the latter speech and the Biblical quotations that we turn. Many have called his Second Inaugural Address the greatest sermon ever delivered in America. And it was only 700 words. I’ve already spoken more than that.

He made four specific references in this speech to scripture. In two places he quoted scripture word for word and in one other, two scriptures are clearly put together and quoted in part.

We’ll begin in the middle, after he has explained the cause of the war and stated
“Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.”

Thus he described war as something alien that comes upon; and that is how we usually experience major conflict. We do not expect it; we do not plan for it; and then, suddenly we’re in a raging argument. People’s voices are rising and feelings are getting hurt.

“Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding.” Afterward, we say “I got into an argument.”

And the war came

By March of 1865 the results were indeed fundamental and astounding. Slavery was over. The 13th Amendment outlawing slavery had passed. There were 180,000 African Americans in the Union Army. There were even a few hundred or maybe a thousand in the Confederate Army.

“Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged.” (Gen 3:19; Matt 7:1)

This irenic address does include a smackdown of slavery and for this condemnation he goes to Genesis 3:19 where the fact that we have to work is a direct result of the Fall. Work and toil are the wages of sin. Forcing others to work for us compounds the sin. Then he returns to prayer, the main subject of this paragraph, and concludes:

“The prayers of both could not be answered—that of neither has been answered fully.”

We certainly all know this by now. We do get answers to prayers, but almost never exactly what we ask for.

“The Almighty has his own purposes. ‘Woe unto the world because of offenses! for it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh.’ (Matt18:7 This passage in the Bible foreshadows the betrayal of Jesus by Judas.) If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to remove, and that he gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope—fervently do we pray—that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, ‘The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’" (Ps 19:9)

God is still in charge. Offenses come. It’s a fallen world. Stuff happens. Bad stuff happens. When bad stuff happens, there is someone responsible, but more importantly, usually, a lot of people are responsible. As we sow, we reap. We created slavery and reaped the benefits. Now we pay the price. Lincoln addressed himself to all Americans, north and south. He made no mention of war reparations or anything of the sort. The war itself was the payment and everyone had to pay up. At the end of this long and terrible war, he concluded simply that somehow it had to happen. No one was to blame and everyone was to blame. There was plenty of blame to go around.

Therefore

“With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.”

Every single day in Washington, thousands of people, people from all over America and the world, visit the Lincoln Memorial, have their photographs taken in front of the great statue, and read the two addresses on the north and south interior walls. They read these two great American speeches based so much upon the Bible, and draw their own conclusions about their own lives and countries. Lincoln’s words are an echo in still contemporary language of that call from God to Abraham, to Moses, to Deborah, to Miriam, to Jesus, to all the saints, even to the saints here today in Kenwood; a call to live by God’s laws, to love God, to love your neighbor, to forgive, to be forgiven; and thereby fulfill God’s promise and experience the fullness of life

Scriptures:

Genesis 3:19 In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

Psalm 19:9 The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether.

Matt 7:1-5
[1] Judge not, that ye be not judged.
[2] For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
[3] And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?
[4] Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?
[5] Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.

Matt.18:1-7
[1] At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?
[2] And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,
[3] And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
[4] Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
[5] And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.
[6] But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.
[7] Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!