Category: Christian Discipleship

“Who’s the Real King,” Matthew 2:1-20

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Matthew’s story of the Magi reminds me of Susie who came home from Sunday school and proudly showed her father the picture she had drawn there.  It was a picture of an airplane and through the windows there were four people visible in the plane, 3 in the back and one up front.  Dad asking a very natural question not recommended for parents of young artists inquired, “What is it?”  Susie replied, “It’s the flight into Egypt.  See, there’s Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in the plane.”  Stifling his laughter, Dad got in deeper.  “Oh, I see, and who is that in the front of the plane?”  “Dad,” said Susie, “You should know who that is.  It’s Pontius the Pilot.”

Matthew tells the story of the holy family’s escape into Egypt so briefly and matter of factly that it’s easy to pass over it too lightly as Susie did.  This story of the magi and Herod is a significant addition to Luke’s more peaceful account of angels and shepherd.  In Matthew the innocent babe of Bethlehem is not only homeless but is quickly forced to run for his life from a homicidal King Herod.  What might this dark side of the Christmas story say to us today as we come to the end of another Christmas season with the horrors of Newtown and Rochester still hanging in the air?  Matthew reminds us that Jesus didn’t come into a world of pretty lights, tinseled trees and holiday parties.  He came into the real world, the world that had always stoned and rejected God’s prophets and resisted those who try to challenge the status quo.

Jesus came into a world where Caesar Augustus issued a decree to tax an oppressed people – a first century fiscal cliff if you will.  There’s nothing wrong with celebrating the warmth and love of Christmas.  We need breaks from our normal routine; we need to pause and ponder the meaning of life, to visit with friends and family; but lest we forget, Matthew 2 reminds us that like Jesus, when the party’s over, we must still live in the real world.  Given Herod’s slaughter of innocent children, I’m sure there must have been some in Bethlehem who would have lobbied for an armed guard at the manger, or maybe the wise men should have been brought guns and ammo instead of Gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In the real world there is always the struggle between good and evil – has been since time began.  It is both a cosmic and a personal conflict, which plays out here between Baby Jesus and King Herod, a symbol of all the power and violence and selfishness the world can muster.  It seems a very unfair match doesn’t it, a helpless, defenseless new born baby vs. Herod’s armies?  Gun powder vs. baby powder!  But remember what Pastor Dave said on Christmas Eve – God loves the underdog.  Baby Jesus is far from helpless, because he has God on his side, and we can have that same power on our side too if we worship the right king and not Herod’s kind of power.  In the words of the great hymn, “Lead on O King Eternal,” Jesus wins this battle hands down, “not with swords loud clashing nor roll of stirring drums, with deeds of love and mercy, his heavenly kingdom comes.”

My son and daughter-in-law gave me the HBO series on John Adams for my birthday this fall, and those seven hours of viewing were a great way to spend some of my recovery time after my surgery.  It’s a great series based on the biography of Adams by David McCullough, in part because it is so realistic in portraying how difficult the struggle for American independence was.  Political debate raged for months about if or when independence from Great Britain should be declared.  That first Christmas of the American Revolution in 1776 when Washington’s underfed, ill-equipped, poorly trained army looked doomed to an early defeat, Thomas Paine wrote his famous words, “These are the times that try men’s souls.”  Talk about underdogs taking on the most powerful military empire in the world.  Adams and the other members of that Congressional Congress knew they were literally risking their lives, committing treason by standing up to the power and authority of King George.  But as Harry Emerson Fosdick once said, they chose to be “loyal to the royal” in themselves, to the inalienable rights of liberty and justice endowed upon all humans by our creator.

As in every generation we are also living in times that try our souls, and we face the same critical decisions every generation faces, to choose the ways of the world or the ways of the Lord.  Let’s be honest, our priorities aren’t all that different than they were in Herod’s day.  Aren’t we still overly impressed by the lifestyles of the rich and famous?  Don’t we stress out and work too hard and go into debt for things we don’t really need and can’t afford?

Let’s not miss the radical point the story of Herod and the Magi makes, of these wise kings traipsing around the countryside looking for a poor little peasant baby born in a barn.  But even these wise men are fooled at first- they go to Herod, looking for the newborn king.  They expected him to be born in a palace, not a stable, and wouldn’t we make the same mistake today?

The Magi are symbols of worldly wisdom and power.  They show true wisdom just in time when they see through Herod’s lies and follow the star to Jesus.  And there they bow down and worship the true king, the one who doesn’t force his way upon us or try to impress us with wealth and power.  Jesus instead shows us the power that is stronger than any bully or injustice—the power of love.

Herod represents a long line of despots:  Pharaoh, Jezebel, Nebuchadnezzar, Nero, Hitler, Stalin, Saddam, and Osama.  All rulers who appeared to be all powerful.  Matthew tells us that Herod was so powerful that when he was upset about the news of Jesus’ birth, all of Jerusalem trembled in fear of his wrath.  But like every bully Herod’s fear-based power is hollow.  Herod is so insecure and threatened by a tiny baby that he orders the slaughter of innocent children, a horror all too real to us in 2012.  How desperate Herod must have been.  His desperation shows us that he feared others far more than they feared him.  Herod’s kind of power cannot last long because it is built on fear and violence.  Herod has the power of death, he can order men to kill babies and they do it.  By contrast, Jesus came in the power of eternal life.  He has nothing to fear because he is in touch with the power of God that conquers even death itself.  Jesus stands for love and compassion, kindness and peace, eternal values that can be oppressed and oppressed, but never conquered – values that aren’t part of the Herodian vocabulary.

Jesus’ peaceful confidence and power are illustrated in a story by Madeleine L’Engle that tells about the holy family’s dangerous journey across the desert into Egypt.  Wild animals and robbers were very real threats in the desert, and Mary and Joseph would have had to join a caravan for safety.  The story is called “Dance in the Desert,” and as L’Engle tells it, the first night in the desert might have been like this:

“The child will be frightened,” one of the camel drivers said and with his great, calloused hands began to play upon a tiny reed pipe.  A scrawny donkey boy ran into one of the tents and came out with an enormous horn, certainly heavier than he was, and managed to blow into it so that a braying squawk came out the end.   The little boy laughed and clapped with joy as he sat on the young man’s knee in the circle around the largest of the fires.

Outside the circle, from the edges of the dark, came a deep, sustained roar.  The camel driver dropped his pipe, his huge hand reaching for his knife.  “It is a lion.”  The tremor of fear that ran through the group touched everybody except the child.  He slid off the young man’s knees and walked on his still unsteady legs to the edge of the circle.  “Wait,” the mother said, as the camel driver reached for the little boy. 

The firelight seemed dimmer, the moonlight on the sands outside brighter.  At the crest of a dune stood a magnificent lion, completely still, so that he seemed like one of the stone carvings that the sands cover and then uncover on the desert floor.  His tail began to twitch, not in anger or irritation, but in dignified rhythm.  Then ponderously, he rose on his hind legs to his full height.  The child stood at the edge of the circle of firelight, holding out his arms in greeting.  The lion dropped back to his four paws and moved slowly to the company, not menacing, not stalking, but in measured, courtly circles.   “He’s dancing!” the donkey boy said.  “The lion is dancing!”

The camel driver’s grip relaxed, though he kept his hand on the knife’s hilt.  At a responsible distance from the caravan the lion knelt on his forepaws, then dropped to his haunches and lay still on the sands, watching.” 

Because Jesus is the real king, He has nothing to fear from any human king or the king of the beasts.  That’s the same message the gospels tell us when Jesus shows his kind of power over and over again – refusing to use force, resisting Satan’s temptations of glory and worldly power, calming the seas, exorcising demons, healing the sick and raising the dead.  And yet, even with all those signs of divine power, Jesus still had few real disciples.   Why?  Because most people then and now are fooled by Herod’s kind of phony power.  We call the Magi wise because they eventually recognize who the real king is.  Herod tries to order them around like he does everybody else.  He lies to them about his desire to worship Jesus.  But the Magi’s wisdom wins out.  Their ultimate obedience is not to Herod, but to the real king, and they refuse to play into Herod’s evil hand.

It is one thing to recognize the real king and bring him gifts and worship him.  That’s the easy part.  The acid test is which king we obey when push comes to shove.  In our heads we know that God will win in the long run, but we live in the short run, and that’s where we must show our loyalty to the true king if we want our world to become more like God’s kingdom.  We have the choice, every day, and history sadly shows a lack of wisdom in our ability to recognize and follow the real king. Too many Herods have risen to power in our world.  Too many innocent children have died.  Following the Newtown massacre, everyone is asking what we can do to make our world a safer place.  That’s a complicated question and a debate we need to take very seriously.  But there’s one thing we all can do right now today to help change the world and that is to commit ourselves more fully to follow the prince of peace.

In a few days the Christmas trees and decorations will be gone, the manger scene will be packed away in its box, but the choice of which king we serve and how we will live in 2013 will remain.  That choice affects how we relate to our families, friends, colleagues, how we respond to economic challenges, to the needs of the less fortunate.  It affects everything we do, and we need to be constantly aware of that.  Because the forces of evil are subtle and tricky.  Herod will try anything to undermine our faith by fear and intimidation, tempting us with all kinds of lies about earthly comforts and rewards instead of eternal ones.

Nobody ever said allegiance to the real king is easy (and if they did, they were lying).  Accepting Christ as our king is not a one and done decision.  You can’t even do that with your driver’s license, you have to renew it regularly.   Each Christmas we need to hear the story again, fresh and new, to be challenged by its simple yet profound truth.  And every day we need to make a conscious choice to follow the one true King.

Several decrees go out in the Christmas story – one from Caesar Augustus ordering a census, one from Herod ordering a massacre.  But the one we need to hear is the decree of the angels proclaiming the birth of the one true king, the savior of the world who conquers our fear forever.  Let’s remember Jesus’ teaching on allegiance to authority.  He taught us to render to Caesar only that which belongs to Caesar, but always and foremost to give our ultimate allegiance to the true king and Lord of all creation.  Let us remember that this is not a new challenge – that way back in Deuteronomy the Hebrew people were faced with the same choice.  And Joshua made it very clear when he said, “Choose this day whom you will serve.”  And like Joshua, we pray for the wisdom of the Magi to respond today and every day, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

A Christmas Eve Story

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

As I pondered what message to share at Jerome UMC on Christmas Eve in a December that felt much darker than most, I remembered a couple of wonderful stories that spoke to me, and I hope will to you also.  As I thought about the struggle between good and evil in human  nature, the first story that came to me is a Native American legend about a young child asking a grandparent why some people are kind and loving and others seem so cruel and violent.  The grandparent responded that there is a constant struggle in every person between two wolves, one that is compassionate and nurturing, and another that is selfish and mean.  “But which wolf wins that struggle?” asked the child.  “The one we feed and nurture,” came the reply.

The image of the wolf reminded me of the second story, one that I had not told or thought about in years.  It is in a collection of short stories by Martin Bell, and the book is called, The Way of the Wolf, where the wolf is a metaphor for God.  When I looked for the story on line I was blessed to find an excellent introduction and conclusion to this story which I adapted slightly, but want to give credit to stjohns-online.org for setting the context.  Here’s the message I shared at the 11 pm Christmas Eve service at my church, Jerome UMC near Dublin, Ohio:

Christmas is a time for telling stories. Some are ancient stories:  about shepherds and angels and a baby born in a barn. Some of them are stories from our childhood – stories of elves and flying red-nosed reindeer, of snowmen who come to life under the spell of Christmas magic, and of Santa Claus.  Each season brings new stories, stories that capture in a new way some of the miracle of the first story, the story of God’s love for us – a love so deep and marvelous that it came alive one night – it became “Emmanuel,” “God with us.”

We tell stories because they touch our hearts and not just our minds.  They help us enter into the mystery of Truth that is larger than our reason and logic can explain.  Stories reveal different levels of truth that reach us wherever we are ready to receive them on any given day.  Christmas is a time for telling stories.

So often the story of Jesus is portrayed as a kind of romantic, sentimental tale – not unlike the decorations and secular stories and carols we hear this time of the year. Christmas is seen as a time of fellowship and fine food, a time to put aside just for a while, the things that divide us, at least until the After-Christmas sales. It is forgotten how marvelous and how expensive a gift Christmas really is, that the manger and the cross are both made of the same wood; that this small child, this enfleshment of God’s love, was sent not just to be a gift, another trinket for us to wear around our necks for a season, but came to show us what God’s love is all about – a love that is willing to die for us, a love that came as the angels told the shepherds that is to save us from all fear and give us eternal peace.

That is where Christmas really begins. That is why we tell the Christmas story again tonight – because of who Jesus became, what he taught, how he lived, and how he died but lives eternally.  Tonight we celebrate the greatness of the Christmas gift. And we remember the cost.   To do that, I’d like to share the story of God’s love for us, even as Jesus often did, through the telling of another story – a kind of parable by Martin Bell, “The Tale of Barrington Bunny.”

Barrington Bunny: A Christmas Story

by MartinBell

ONCE upon a time in a large forest there lived a very furry bunny. He had one lop ear, a tiny black nose, and unusually shiny eyes. His name was Barrington.

Barrington was not really a very handsome bunny. He was brown and speckled and his ears didn’t stand up right. But he could hop, and he was, as I have said, very furry.

In a way, winter is fun for bunnies. After all, it gives them a opportunity to hop in the snow and then turn around to see where they have hoped. So, in a way, winter was fun for Barrington.

But in another way winter made Barrington sad. For, you see, winter marked the time when all of the animal families got together in their cozy homes to celebrate Christmas. He could hop, and he was very furry. But as far as Barrington knew, he was the only bunny in the forest.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Barrington did not feel like going home all by himself. So he decided that he would hop for a while in the clearing in the center of the forest. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Then he cocked his head and looked back at the wonderful designs he had made.

“Bunnies,” he thought to himself, “can hop.” And they are very warm, too, because of how furry they are.” (But Barrington didn’t really know whether or not his was true of all bunnies, since he had never met another bunny.) When it got to dark to see the tracks he was making, Barrington made up his mind to go home. On his way, however, he passed a large oak tree. High in the branches there was a great deal of excited chattering going on. Barrington looked up. It was a squirrel family! What a marvelous time they seemed to be having.

“Hello, up there,” called Barrington.

“Hello, down there,” came the reply.

“Having a Christmas party?” asked Barrington.

“Oh, yes!” answered the squirrels. “It is Christmas Eve. Everybody is having a Christmas party!”

“May I come to your party?” said Barrington softly.

“Are you a squirrel?”

“No.”

“What are you, then?”

“A bunny.”

“A bunny?”

“Yes.”

“Well, how can you come to the party if you’re a bunny? Bunnies can’t climb trees.”

“That’s true,” said Barrington thoughtfully. “But I can hop and I’m very furry and warm.” “We’re sorry,” called the squirrels. “We don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but we do know that in order to come to our house you have to be able to climb trees.” “Oh, well,” said Barrington. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas,” chattered the squirrels. And the unfortunate bunny hopped off toward his tiny house.

It was beginning to snow when Barrington reached the river. Near the river bank was wonderfully constructed house of sticks and mud. Inside there was singing.

“It’s the beavers,” thought Barrington. “Maybe they will let me come to their Party.” And so he knocked on the door.

“Who’s out there?” called a voice.

“Barrington Bunny,” he replied.

There was a long pause and then a shiny beaver head broke the water.

“Hello, Barrington,” said the beaver.

“May I come to your Christmas party?” asked Barrington.

The beaver thought for awhile and then he said, “I suppose so. Do you know how to swim?”

“No,” said Barrington, “but I can hop and I am very furry and warm.”

“Sorry,” said the beaver. “I don’t know anything about hopping and being furry, but I do know that in order to come to our house you have to be able to swim.”

“Oh, well,” Barrington muttered, his eyes filling with tears. “I suppose that’s true–Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” called the beaver. And he disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Even being as furry as he was, Barrington was beginning to get cold. And the snow was falling so hard that his tiny, bunny eyes could scarcely see what was ahead of him.

He was almost home, however, when he heard the excited squeaking of field mice beneath the ground.

“It’s a party,” thought Barrington. And suddenly he blurted out through his tears, “Hello, field mice. This is Barrington Bunny. May I come to your party?” But the wind was howling so loudly and Barrington was sobbing so much that no on heard him.

And when there was no response at all, Barrington just sat down in the snow and began to cry with all his might.

“Bunnies,” he thought, “aren’t any good to anyone. What good is it to be furry and to be able to hop if you don’t have any family on Christmas Eve?”

Barrington cried and cried. When he stopped crying he began to bite on his bunny’s foot, but he did not move from where he was sitting in the snow.

Suddenly, Barrington was aware that he was not alone. He looked up and strained his shiny eyes to see who was there.

To his surprise he saw a great silver wolf. The wolf was large and strong and his eyes flashed fire. He was the most beautiful animal Barrington had ever seen. For a long time the silver wolf didn’t say anything at all. He just stood there and looked at Barrington with those terrible eyes.
Then slowly and deliberately the wolf spoke. “Barrington,” he asked in a gentle voice, “Why are you sitting in the snow?”

Barrington replied, “Because it is Christmas Eve and I don’t have any family and bunnies aren’t any good.”

“Bunnies are good,” said the wolf. “Bunnies can hop and they are very warm.”

“What good is that ?” Barrington sniffed.

“It is very good indeed,” the wolf went on, “because it is a gift that bunnies are given, a free gift with no strings attached. And every gift that is given to anyone is given for a reason. Someday you will see why it is good to hop and to be warm and furry.”

“But it’s Christmas,” moaned Barrington, “and I’m all alone. I don’t have any family at all.”

“Of course you do,” replied the great silver wolf. “All of the animals in the forest are your family.” And then the wolf disappeared. He simply wasn’t there.

Barrington had only blinked his eyes, and when he looked– the wolf was gone.

“All of the animals in the forest are my family,” thought Barrington. “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies can hop. That’s a gift. A free gift.”

On into the night Barrington worked. First he found the best sticks that he could. (and that was difficult because of the snow.) Then hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. To beaver’s house. He left the sticks just outside the door. With a note on them that read: A free gift. No strings attached. Signed, a member of your family.”

“It is a good thing that I can hop,” he thought, “because the snow is very deep.”

Then Barrington dug and dug. Soon he had gathered together enough dead leaves and grass to make the squirrels nest warmer. Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. He laid the grass and the leaves just under the large oak tree and attached this message: “A gift. A free gift. From a member of your family.”

It was late when Barrington finally started home. And what made things worse was that he knew a blizzard was beginning.

Hop. Hop. Hippity-hop. Soon poor Barrington was lost. The wind howled furiously, and it was very, very cold. “It certainly is cold,” he said out loud. “It’s a good thing I’m so furry. But if I don’t find my way home pretty soon even I might freeze!”

And then he saw it– a baby field mouse lost in the snow. and the little mouse was crying.

“Hello, little mouse,” Barrington called.

“Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.” Hippity-hop, and Barrington was beside the tiny mouse.

“I’m lost,: sobbed the little fellow. “I’ll never find my way home, and I know I’m going to freeze.”

“You won’t freeze,” said Barrington. “I’m a bunny and bunnies are very furry and warm. You stay right where you are and I’ll cover you up.”

Barrington had only two thoughts that long, cold night. First he thought, “It’s good to be a bunny. Bunnies are very furry and warm.” And then, when he felt the heart of the tiny mouse beneath him beating regularly, he thought, “All of the animals in the forest are my family.”

Next morning, the field mice found their little baby, asleep in the snow, warm and snug beneath the furry carcass of a dead bunny. Their relief and excitement was so great that they didn’t even think to question where the bunny had come from.

And as for the beavers and the squirrels, they still wonder which member of their family left the little gifts for them that Christmas Eve.

After the field mice had left, Barrington’s frozen body simply lay in the snow. There was no sound except that of the howling wind. and no one any where in the forest noticed the great silver wolf who came to stand beside that brown, lop-eared carcass.

But the wolf did come.
And he stood there.
Without moving or saying a word.
All Christmas Day.
Until it was night.

And then he disappeared into the forest.

(at the conclusion)

This cold winter night, we are again given a gift, you and I. A free gift, with no strings attached. A small baby, a person like you and me, who came to be a gift, and to tell us that we are also gifts, and members of the same family – the family of Our God. He showed us that life is truly a gift. To be human is a gift, because it means that God’s own heart can beat within us. We can love as Jesus loves, and we can rejoice in being members – all of us – of the same family. That is truly a great gift. But Jesus showed us that it is also a costly gift – it will cost us our very lives, all that we are, to be the kind of gift Jesus is.   Because Jesus showed us the truth of that paradox, by loving us totally, enough to die for us. And that is what Christmas is really all about.

Let us, then, praise God for that gift. Let us receive it, and through its magic, allow ourselves to be transformed into gifts – gifts to one another. As we receive the bread and the wine, the body and the blood of our Lord, let us become aware of His real presence which transforms us, and makes of us living gifts to one another. Free gifts. With no strings attached. Amen.

Light in the Darkness

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

O God of mercy, we come to you in greater need of your comfort and love than usual this day.  As a nation we have walked thru the valley of the shadow of death this week with the people of Portland, Oregon, Newtown, CN, and the Sandy Hook school. It’s lonely in that valley and we need your strength so that we are not overcome by the fear of such incomprehensible evil and violence.  We’re shocked and angry that such pain and suffering has been visited upon innocent children and their families.  We’re confused and frightened that these scenes are becoming all too familiar.

Our hearts are broken and our minds struggle to ask why and make sense of the senseless. What we do know is that we want to reach out in compassion to everyone touched directly and indirectly by this tragedy – families, teachers, students, first responders, community leaders, churches ministering to the grief stricken, political leaders looking for ways to stop the cycle of violence.  Guide us with your spirit, O God, that we may be instruments of your peace to those near, and far and bearers of light to those surrounded by this darkness.

Give us faith and courage to continue to praise you and celebrate your presence in this holy season, even in the midst of our pain.  Remind us that Christmas comes in the darkest days of the year when we most need the light of the world.  Remind us that Jesus was born into a world where a desperate insecure king ordered the slaughter of innocent children to preserve his power.  And we know who had the real power.

The light of the Christ child still shines in the darkness, and we thank you for that reassuring presence.  Comfort us in our grief, banish our fears so that we may share the good news of Christmas that the eternal God is one with us, shares our pain, is so close to us that you taste the salt of our tears – and in that faith may we be empowered to share the good news that nothing in all creation, no valley, no darkness, no evil, can ever separate us from your great love, O God, our strength and redeemer.

Socially Responsible Holiday Gifts

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values 
In the interest of celebrating the holidays in ways that are more in keeping with the reason for the season
 I want to share the following resource from Sojourners.  This social justice organization says:

If you're like us, you're a generous person who wants to engage the world around you. 
Christmas is a wonderful time of year, and you're searching for gifts that will have an impact, 
not just pile up under the tree.
 
But where do we find socially responsible gifts? Is there a list that we can check
twice?
 
Sojourners decided to create a solution to this. We call it the Just Giving Guide
http://go.sojo.net/site/R?i=RgDIq-W8imh7uFRMXNCubw
 
The Guide is an email program where you can get the "Just Deal of the Day" delivered straight to your inbox.
 
Every day until December 31, you'll receive a daily email from us featuring one of our partner
organizations. These include non-profits, fair trade shops, environmentally friendly products, and
Christian publishers.
 
As a bonus for registering, you'll receive 20% off at our SojoStore!
http://go.sojo.net/site/R?i=OuKwPX3_OFb53u740Sxn_A
 
Sign up now
http://go.sojo.net/site/R?i=SEjfuC1xQX1B4bvvNw0SSA

Biblical Politics

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Someone left a handwritten note on my windshield this morning, the day before the 2012 election.  It was apparently a response to the collection of bumper stickers on my car.  One of those which has been there quite some time says “Another United Methodist for Peace and Justice” and has the cross and flame symbol of our denomination.  More recently I have added bumper stickers supporting President Obama and Ohio Senator Brown and a state issue to make the way we draw congressional districts in Ohio less partisan.  The note on my windshield said, “Christian, Should you Not vote the BIBLE?”

I can guess which parts of the Bible my anonymous critic reads and does not read.  Robert Jewett in his book, The Captain America Complex has a very helpful discussion of the two major streams of thought, both Biblical, which explain the widening divide and lack of communication and tolerance in our politics and theology.  The first he calls “zealous nationalism” which has had great influence on American self-understanding with its emphasis on prosperity and individual salvation as the primary goals of Christianity.  Christians who prefer that Biblical focus devote much of their attention to the Gospel of John, the epistles and the book of Revelation.  The other equally Biblical path Jewett calls “prophetic realism” with a greater emphasis on social justice and concern for the marginalized and powerless members of society.  That is a primary theme of the Hebrew prophets and Jesus himself in the synoptic gospels, and it is a major reason Biblical Christians can and do view the world and politics differently.

With election day only hours away I am praying that great divide does not create a rerun of 2000’s Florida debacle.  That’s why I am urging my friends in Ohio and other swing states especially to get out the vote for President Obama.  For many reasons I believe the President is more likely to advocate for policies more in keeping with the more tolerant, inclusive and universal values of Jesus and the Prophets.  Beyond the fact that the economy is improving and it would be foolish to return to the Bush-Cheney policies that created the recession, President Obama is the better candidate for a variety of other very important reasons:  a greater commitment to the environment, women’s rights, gay rights, education, the poor, and scaling back our reliance on military solutions to international conflicts.

We know that no president can solve all the problems we face single-handedly.  But there is one far-reaching effect this election will have for years to come, and that is the makeup of the US Supreme Court.  The current court has given us a $6 billion election controlled by wealthy anonymous donors.  If you agree that money should be spent in better ways to address real problems facing our nation and world, get out and vote for the President and prevent the long-lasting damage a more conservative Supreme Court would create.  Because those justices are appointed for life, your vote is about far more than just the next four years.

“Be Careful What you Ask For” Text: Mark 10:35-45

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

What would you do if your boss asked you to undertake a big project that would require a lot of effort and travel but she wouldn’t tell you what the project was until you agreed to do it?    Would you buy that deal?  Or if your very best friend comes to you with a financial crisis, and when you ask what it is or how much he needs – the answer is that he can’t tell you but just needs you to write him a blank check!  That’s what James and John seem to be saying to Jesus in this passage from Mark 10.  “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

Why would these two close disciples of Jesus even dare to ask such a brash and bold thing?  There is some evidence to support this unseemly behavior if we look elsewhere in the Gospels.  At least four times Jesus seems to offer the disciples and us that kind of magic wand.    ‘Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith you will receive” (Mt. 21:22).    And three times in John’s gospel, “I will do whatever you ask in my name” (John 14:13; 15:7 & 16).

Such a deal!  No wonder James and John want to cash in.  What would you pray for if you were guaranteed you’d get whatever you asked for?  New job? Healing for yourself or a loved one? Straight A’s?  A full-ride scholarship to the college of your choice?  Browns in the Super Bowl?  Hey, it says whatever you ask!!!!   How about healing a broken relationship?  Or let’s think really big and go for world peace and a healthy environment.

But there’s something wrong with this picture isn’t there?  We’ve prayed for most of those things and more, and more times than not, the answer is ‘no’ or ‘not now” or “not yet.”  The cancer isn’t cured.  The marriage ends in divorce.  The perfect job doesn’t appear.  Mr. or Ms. Right turns out to be a big Ms-take, and the world seems further from peace than ever.

If God is all powerful and promises to answer our prayers, why is there so much suffering and pain?  Why is the world such a mess?   We’ll come back to that question later.  First let’s look at the second surprising thing in this story about Jesus and his disciples.  After the audacity of James and John to ask Jesus to grant them whatever they want, the next surprise is that Jesus doesn’t laugh in their faces for daring to ask such a foolish question.  Jesus calmly responds, “What is it you want me to do? “  And when they say they want the seats of honor next to Jesus in his kingdom, then Jesus gets a little more direct with them.  He says, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”  In other words, “Be careful what you ask for.”  And then Jesus goes on to explain for the umpteenth time the cost of discipleship.  Following Jesus means being a servant and a slave, the exact opposite of the cushy places of privilege and honor James and John were asking for.

In Isaiah (55:8) God says, “My ways are not your ways.”  Jesus makes the same point here in Mark.  He says “among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them.  BUT IT IS NOT SO AMONG YOU (church); but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant; for the son of man came not to be served but to serve” (10:43).   Sometimes our unanswered prayers are the result of asking for the wrong things–like when we pray for athletic victories.  I don’t think even Jesus could get the poor Browns to a Super Bowl;  or for materialistic things or success in a job or on a test at school when we haven’t taken the responsibility to do the work and the study necessary for success.

Even prayer for peace and the environment can be nothing more than pious platitudes if we don’t live peaceful and environmentally responsible lifestyles.   That’s why the letter of James tells us, “Faith without works is dead.”  That epistle says it does no good to wish someone well if we don’t lift a finger to help feed them or meet their needs.  A friend of mine on Facebook recently posted a few messages about breaking a new bottle of insulin she needs to take every day.  Her insurance company refused to replace the expensive medicine, and she didn’t have money in her budget to replace it.  After a few days of going without the insulin she posted another message saying she was starting to feel the effects of going without.  In response there was a long list of messages from her Facebook friends offering prayers and messages of sympathy, but not one offer of any funds to help her buy her meds.  Prayers without works to back them up are dead.

At first glance, it looks like James and John’s request is denied because they are asking for special recognition.  Don’t we all like to be appreciated and affirmed?  We put our plaques and diplomas and awards on our office walls, but I don’t see many of us displaying pictures of times we really messed up or a headline from the paper when we got a speeding ticket.  What if James and John simply asking for assurance that they’re ok?  Just a few verses earlier Mark tells us they were afraid as they headed ever closer to Jerusalem and what awaited Jesus there.    Maybe James and John just want to be close to Jesus.  Don’t we all want to be sure God is walking beside us on our daily journey – to be reassured that the single set of footprints in the tough times are really God’s and not ours?

But there’s a difference between asking for God’s presence and expecting special treatment.  We’d all like to be exempt from suffering and pain, and our loved ones too.  But we are called with Christ to suffer with those who suffer.  Fred Craddock, one of the great preachers of our time describes what we want as “almost Bible” – things that we think are or should be in the Bible but aren’t.  He says we want the Bible to say that “when the Messiah comes there will be no more suffering.”  But what it says is “Where there is suffering, there the Messiah comes.”  And Jesus calls us to be there with the suffering also if we want to be next to him.  Yes, God promises a peaceful, pain-free existence for the faithful, but that peace comes only in the spiritual realm of divine healing, beyond the trials and tribulations of this mortal existence.

Some prayers also go unanswered because they are just too small.  The scope of our prayer concerns is like an archery target of concentric circles – you know what that looks like with the red bull’s eye in the very center of the target.  Our personal concerns and needs are naturally at the bull’s eye.  Next to us are those we love and care most about, then come friends and neighbors in the next circle, then friends and acquaintances of others brought to our attention when they are put on the prayer list, etc. The secret to growing in our faith is an ever-expanding sense of who we are connected to in God’s family until our prayers and service reach to the far outer ring of the circles – to those we don’t even know who look different and think differently, even worship differently or not at all – even to those we have labeled as our enemies.  All of God’s children and all of God’s creation become part of our prayer vision and circle of compassion.  That’s the vision that inspires our giving to missions at home and around the world.  It’s the reason dozens of our own Jerome church members are on three mission trips to Kentucky, Haiti and Argentina at this very moment.  Praise God for that dedication and service.

The scope of our concern is like flying in a plane. At ground level all we can see are the other planes on the tarmac and the terminal and the control tower, and those people out there losing our luggage.  Then as the plane lifts off the ground we can see the parking lots and highways next to the airport, then the skyline of the city we are departing from, and as we get higher we can see for miles – pick out lakes and rivers and other landmarks.  And from 30000 feet on a clear day we can see all the way to the horizon miles away.  And for an even better view, we’ve all seen pictures of the earth sent back from Apollo astronauts circling the moon and have seen what a beautiful, fragile little planet we live on – one without the artificial borders and boundaries that divide us from one another.   From that vantage point we begin to get a God’s eye view and a universal perspective that calls us to pray and act on behalf of all creation and all of God’s children.

Jesus calls us to be servants of that whole creation, and that means making hard choices.  We have to put our own desires and wishes on hold to tend to the needs of others.  Mothers and fathers and caregivers for the sick or elderly know exactly what that means, and the Scriptures challenge us all to adopt that role of caretaker for God’s world and God’s people – not just out of necessity, but with joyful hearts.

God has entrusted humankind with the care of all creation and we must take that job more seriously.  It isn’t easy – none of us want to give up the comfortable lifestyle we enjoy.  We can pray for researchers and business leaders to find solutions to difficult environmental problems – but all of us need to also do more to simplify our own consumption of the finite resources God has provided.   I know businesses don’t like EPA regulations that limit their freedoms and their profits, none of us do, but without rules and regulations we are not good at environmentally healthy choices and practices – because when our eyes are focused on just the bulls eye of our own well-being and not on the Creator’s perspective, we lose sight of the bigger target.

World peace is an even bigger challenge.  We pray for our troops and honor the sacrifices they and their loved ones make every day that we too often take for granted.  But Jesus calls all of us to live peacefully too.  He says, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also” (Mt. 5:39), and stop the cycle of anger and revenge.   Yes, I know there are huge questions about how we do that in the face of tyrants and terrorists, and I don’t have any easy answers.   But what I do know is that the Scriptures challenge all of us to wrestle with what that means and how we respond to bullies or road rage or a back stabbing colleague at work.  Jesus says pray for your enemies and for those who abuse you, but prayer alone is not enough — he also says to love them.

World peace is so big an issue we are tempted to throw up our hands and just give up, but that is not an acceptable response.   None of us is likely to go out this week and stop the violence in Afghanistan or Syria or even on the west side of Columbus – but every one of us will have multiple opportunities to respond peaceably to someone who rushes in front of us in the checkout line at Kroger’s, or takes a parking place we were obviously heading for.  We will all have chances to put ourselves in the shoes of someone who is unkind or rude, perhaps because they are distracted by problems at home or work or have just gotten terrible news from the Dr.  Or a student at school who is a jerk because he or she just flunked a big test or got cut from the squad.   And I guarantee you that all of us will have many chances in these final days before the election to resist the temptation to put down those we disagree with politically and choose instead to respectfully disagree .

On the topic of elections and political disagreements – a friend posted some very good advice this week from someone I never expected to see on Facebook–John Wesley, one of the founders of the Methodist church.  Way back in 1774 Wesley wrote these words that are just as relevant today as they were 250 years ago.  Wesley wrote in his journal:

“I met those of our society who had votes in the ensuing election, and advised them,

  1. To vote, without fee or reward, for the person they judged most worthy:
  2. To speak no evil of the person they voted against:
  3. To take care their spirits were not sharpened against those that voted on the other side.”

In every situation, I urge all of us to pray and meditate on Jesus as the way and the truth and life as we make daily choices this week.  Remember what Jesus says to James and John: “It’s not about you.  You don’t need to elbow and shove your way into the spotlight.”   God sees acts of servanthood and they may not get recognized or rewarded in the coin of the realm – but God will reward us with the peace that comes when our prayers are in alignment with our actions, and our will is in harmony with God’s.

How do we live peaceful lives of love and forgiveness toward others?   The best advice is always to look to Jesus as our example, and when it comes to the question of how to pray faithfully there is one short prayer of Jesus in Mark 14:36 that says it all.  That prayer is the exact opposite of what James and John ask of Jesus.  They want to play God and expect Jesus to do whatever they want.  In contrast, in his greatest hour of need on the night before he was crucified Jesus also prayed to God and asked very clearly for what he wanted.  Remember he says, “God, for you all things are possible, remove this cup from me.”  In other words, “get me out of this mess.”  But unlike James and John, Jesus doesn’t stop there.  He goes on to say, “But not my will but thy will be done.”  That is the ultimate test of authentic prayer.  Do we give God’s will priority over ours?  We can and should voice our deepest fears and requests to God.  God wants that kind of personal relationship with us.  But the bottom line is to humbly let God be God and submit our desires as faithful servants to God’s will.  A sincere prayer for God’s will to be done is prayer that will always be answered.

[Preached at Jerome UMC,Plain City, OH,  Oct. 21, 2012]

 

“Mixed Messages,” (Matthew 11:28-30; 16:24-26; Mark 6:30-37)

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

Here’s a trivia question for anyone who is a Beatles’ fan.  Can you name a Beatles’ song that talks about preaching?  There may be more than one, but the one I’m aware of is “Eleanor Rigby.”   One verse of that song says, “Father McKenzie, writing the words to a sermon that no one will hear.  No one comes near…”  And then comes the haunting refrain “all the lonely people, where do they all come from?”  Where do all the lonely people in the world come from?  Great question and I don’t know the answer.  But I know to whom they come.  They come to the church.

Theologian Frederick Buechner says it’s not the presence of God in our lives that keeps us coming back to church; it’s the absence of God, the hunger for spiritual food to fill the God-shaped hole in our lives.  We come looking for the rest and renewal Jesus promises in Matthew 11:28-30.  Our weary souls leap for joy when we hear Jesus say, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  Where do we sign up for that R&R Jesus?

But hold the phone before you get too excited.  Just five short chapters later in Matthew that offer seems to have expired as we hear “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matt. 16:24-25)  An easy yoke or take up your cross?  Which is it Jesus – we’re getting mixed messages here!   Almost makes me want to set up an empty chair and have a little imaginary chat with Jesus about this seeming contradiction, but then I realized that gig has already been tried and it didn’t exactly make anyone’s day.   And to make matters worse, my research tells me that the verses about rest and the easy yoke appear only in this passage from Matthew.  None of the other gospels include it, but the part about self denial and taking up one’s cross, that appears in Mark and Luke also, and Matthew and Luke both have it twice in their gospels to make sure we don’t miss it.  And Jesus certainly walks that walk; so the Scriptures are clear that we have to take sacrifice and service to others seriously if we intend to be followers of Jesus.

Which makes me ask again, “where’s the rest for weary laborers in Christ’s vineyard?”  We hear the message loud and clear, deny oneself – serve others – be a servant of all.  We want to obey and follow, but we’re tired Jesus.  We’ve been at this church thing a long time and it often seems hopeless.  We feel empty, inadequate, and unable to keep our own soul and body together, let alone respond to the needs of all the lonely, hungry people – there must be 5000 of them!!!!

Where do they all come from?  Where do we all come from?  Empty nesters trying to cope with houses that are suddenly too quiet, kids in new schools searching for real friends, caregivers for the sick, single parents trying to be breadwinners and heads of household, the underemployed and unemployed, those without purpose and passion.  Some of us are struggling with addictions, with problems of aging. Some of us are victims of bullies or peer pressure.  Some of us are grieving the death of lifelong partners.  All the lonely people.

One of the other things I wish Jesus hadn’t said is that “the poor will be with you always.”  (Mt. 26:11, Mk. 14:7)  But there is no historical evidence that he was wrong about that.  I learned recently that even in the affluent suburb close to my home the number of lonely, hungry people is dramatically increasing.  That shouldn’t surprise me, but the numbers did.  750 people per month on average are coming for assistance to the local ecumenical food pantry.  15% of the kids in our suburban school district are on free and reduced lunches, and in two of our school buildings that number is over 50%.  And we know the problems are much worse in urban areas and vastly worse in other parts of the human family around the world.

Where do all those people in need come from and how can we possibly feed them all?   That’s the question Jesus’ disciples also ask in the familiar story in Mark 6:30-37.  Jesus recognizes that the disciples need a break from the ministry they are doing; so he takes them off to a deserted place for some rest, or so he thinks.  But apparently someone tweeted or texted their destination because there’s a whole crowd of lonely people waiting for Jesus when they arrive, hungry for his words and his healing presence.  Mark tells us they look like a bunch of sheep without a shepherd, and Jesus of course has compassion on them and begins to teach them many things.   And when it begins to grow late and folks are getting hungry, the disciples suggest they send the crowds off to McDonalds or Chipotle to fend for themselves.  But Jesus looks the disciples right in the eye as only Jesus can look at you, and he says, “YOU give them something to eat.”

“What?  You must be kidding Jesus!  It would take a week or more wages to feed this crowd.  We don’t have that kind of money.”  (That’s a loose translation)  But Jesus says, “How many loaves have you?  Go and see.” (6:38)

There is a story in John Westerhoff’s book, Will Our Children Have Faith; about a young couple who had everything in life except the thing they wanted the most.  They loved children and desperately wanted to have a family of their own.  But no matter how hard they tried or how many fertility specialists they saw, their sorrow grew with each miscarriage and each passing year of unanswered prayers.  Through their years of frustration and disappointment and anger, the person who supported them most through that lonely journey was their parish priest, Father John.  He counseled them and prayed with them and walked their path with them each step of the way.  And then the miracle happened.  When Samantha conceived and was able to give birth to a beautiful baby boy there was no question what they would name him.  He was baptized “John,” in honor of the faithful priest who delighted in seeing the little boy grow into the curious toddler who warmed Father John’s heart with his smiles and giggles every Sunday morning.

When Johnny was about two and a half he was out early one morning with his mother, taking the family dog out for his morning exercise.  The dog chased a squirrel into the neighbor’s yard, and Samantha went after him.  In those two minutes Johnny toddled over into the driveway behind the family car just as his father came rushing out of the house late for work.  Tom, unaware Johnny was behind the car backed over his son and killed him instantly.

Father John came to the house as soon as he heard the tragic news and found Tom and Samantha in utter and inconsolable despair sitting on the bed holding each other as they wept.  Father John didn’t know what to do or say.  No words seemed able to touch the depths of the devastation these grieving parents were engulfed in; so the priest just sat beside them on the bed and cried with them.

A couple of days after he conducted the hardest funeral of his life, Father John stopped by the home to see how Tom and Samantha were doing.  He was dreading the visit because he felt that he had been totally inadequate in his pastoral care of them on the darkest day of their lives.  So when he reluctantly rang the doorbell he was bowled over when Samantha greeted him warmly and threw her arms around him.  She thanked him profusely for all that he had done for them.  He said, “But I didn’t do anything.  I didn’t know what to say.  I just sat there and cried.”  She said, “You gave us all you had, and it was enough.”

When Jesus sends the disciples out to see how many loaves they have to feed the multitude, he doesn’t ask them to give more than they have, just all that they have.  He says, “Go see what you have and bring it to me.”  And when they surrender meager five loaves and two fish to him, they must have been thinking there was no way even Jesus could feed over 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.

But they suspended their doubts and gave him all they had, and when Jesus takes it and blesses it, not only is it enough to feed the multitude until they are satisfied, there’s enough leftovers to feed the next batch of lonely, hungry pilgrims already coming down the road.

I played a tough golf course several years ago and laughed when I looked down at one of the sprinkler heads on a long par 5 hole.  I knew I was a long way from the green, but where I expected to see the number of yards from that point to the green, instead there were these words from, “All You Got.”

That’s what Jesus gave for us, and what he asks for us in return.  I saw a piece of wisdom on Facebook recently that said, “When the going gets tough, we have three choices.  We can give up, give in, or give it all we’ve got.”

Did you notice at the Olympics that they never give out any medals for running the 99 yard dash?  To give all we’ve got means to finish the race, to stay with the mission of meeting the needs of the hungry and lonely people among us for as long as it takes.  I’ve been looking for years in my Bible for the word “retirement.”  It isn’t there because as long as we have breath we can give whatever we’ve got, all we’ve got.

We can’t do that if we are fearful and attached to things that don’t satisfy.  When Jesus asks us to deny ourselves, what he invites us to surrender is our false sense of self that is defined by our resume or our grade cards or our trophy case or our worldly possessions.  Those things have no lasting value, but the eternal peace and rest that comes from following Jesus can never be taken away.

The secret when we feel weary and overwhelmed by the needs around us and within us is to know that God doesn’t expect us to give more than we have.  That would be unfair, and we do not serve an unjust God.  But I promise you, in Christ’s name, that if we entrust God with all we have, our meager loaves and fishes will be more than enough.

(A sermon preached at Jerome United Methodist Church, Plain City, Ohio, September 2, 2012)

 

Life Imitates Art

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

As I weep for the victims in Colorado I can’t help but wonder why we are surprised when the steady diet of violence we consume as entertainment spills over into real life and death.  Centuries ago the Prince of Peace said, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.”  As another dark night arose this week in Aurora the sad truth of that diagnosis of our human dis-ease became painfully obvious yet again.  We are what we consume, and I pray we will learn to change our diet before too many others suffer.  Please pray with me for comfort for those who suffer and mourn and for a new commitment to the ways of peace.

Communion

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

Note:  I wrote this story 22 years ago.  It breaks my heart that it is still as relevant today as it was in 1990.  The continued struggle of the Christian Church in general and my own United Methodist Church in particular to accept all of God’s children compels me to share it here now.  This story is fiction but painfully true.  It is part of the collection of stories and plays in my book Building Peace from the Inside Out: Stories for Peace Seekers and Peacemakers.”  

“What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”  Micah 6:8

“The truth is lived, not taught.”  Herman Hesse

 

“The body of Christ, broken for you.”  I could hear the bishop repeating the words to each person as we got closer to the altar.  Larry was right in front of me, but just before he got to the bishop, he turned and hurried out the sacristy door, nearly knocking one of the communion stewards over on his way out.  Before I could decide if I should follow him, the bishop stuck a piece of bread in my hand and motioned for me to keep moving.

I found Larry back in the musty little room we were sharing for the week at our United Methodist annual conference.  He was sitting on his bed in the dark.  “You O.K.?” I asked, and when I flipped on the light I thought it looked like he had been crying.

“Yeah, I’m O.K.  I just had to get out of there.  You want to go get some ice cream?”

“You can’t get off the hook that easy, Larry.  We’ve been friends for what, fifteen years, now, and the only time I’ve seen you this upset was when Carolyn left you.  What’s wrong?”

Larry stared at the floor for a long time before he spoke.  “I thought maybe I could get through this without dumping it on you, Jim, but I guess I can’t.  I lost my … a really good friend last week; his name is Steve.  We met at the health club about four years ago and really hit it off – played racquetball twice a week, had dinner together all the time.  He was the best thing that’s ever happened to me…. Oh, what the hell – we were lovers.  Steve told me last week that he wanted out – he’s found someone else; said he’s sick and tired of me hiding behind my preacher’s robe.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”  But I could tell he wasn’t.  I swallowed hard and felt my stomach tighten.  I was trying desperately to stay calm, to hide my panic.

Larry shook his head as he continued, “I’m sorry… I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I’ve just never known how to do it.  I’ve started a dozen times, but it never seemed like the right time.  I guess I just kept hoping that somehow you knew.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t” I said, surprised at my own anger.  Larry buried his face in his hands. His shoulders started to shake, and I realized he was sobbing again.  My instinct was to comfort him like I would a frightened child, put my arms around him; but I couldn’t move.  I was paralyzed; too many questions were racing around in my own mind.  How in the world could I have been this close to Larry this long and not have known?  How many dozens of signals had I missed?  Who else knows and if they do, how many of them think I’m gay too?

Larry didn’t look up, but he finally broke the silence.  “I guess I knew you’d be uncomfortable; maybe that’s why I could never bring myself to tell you.”

“No, no, Larry, I’m not uncomfortable,” I lied, trying to buy some time to regain my equilibrium.  “I’m just thinking about what I can do, you know, to help.”

“Bull Shit!  You’re afraid to deal with it just like everybody else!  God, how I hoped it would be different with you.”

Larry’s words stung like a slap in the face, and the muggy summer night suddenly felt even more oppressive.  I wasn’t sure if it was the heat to blame for the sweat I wiped on my sleeve or if it was my growing discomfort.

“The communion service really got to me tonight,” he continued.  “I just couldn’t pretend any longer that I’m included in a fellowship that condemns me and my lifestyle.  It’s so damn hard, always living a lie, hiding, pretending.  Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to constantly deny who you are, even to your friends, because you know the truth could cost you everything  you’ve got, everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you feel called to do and to be?”

He paused, like he expected something from me, but I didn’t have it to give.  “And now I tell you my deepest secret,” he said, “and you can’t handle it.  I thought I’d feel better, be relieved, once you knew, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Damn it, Larry, that’s not fair.  If you’re such a good friend, how could you go all these years without telling me?  We’ve roomed together here for years, and I’m always staying at your house?  How the hell do you think that looks?  How many people in the conference know about this anyway?”

“Practically nobody, you fool, because there isn’t anybody I can trust – can’t you understand that?  I guess not!  All you can think about is your own precious reputation, you bastard!  I didn’t plan to tell you tonight.  It just hurt so much I couldn’t cover it up this time.”

“I’m sorry, Larry, I really am, but damn it, give me some time to get used to this, will you.  I guess I’m more uptight about this than I realized.”

“Oh, come on, Jim, be honest.  We’ve been debating homosexual ordination up here for what, at least eight or ten years, and I’ve never once seen you on the floor arguing for gay rights!”

“You know how people gossip about anybody who stands up for gays.  They think you’re one of them!”

“Oh, so you’re just a fair-weather liberal?  Do you realize what that chicken shit position does to people like me, especially when it comes from a friend?”

“I haven’t thought about it, Larry.  I thought things were getting better.”  I knew that was stupid as soon as I said it.

“Better?  For whom?  Not me!  That damn policy on gay ordination means that if the wrong people ever find out about me, I’m finished.  Not only is my career over, but they throw me out of my parsonage too!  No job, no home, nothing!  And the activists like Steve wonder why I don’t run around with a big “G” on my chest, proclaiming to the entire world that I’m gay?”

He picked up a Bible from the desk as he paced the room.  “I’ve heard you and a bunch of other so-called friends preach a great line about God’s amazing grace from here, Jim,” he said, holding the book under my nose; “but from where I sit, the only amazing thing about grace in the church is how amazingly scarce it really is.”

He flung the Bible into the wall behind my bed with such force that the faded picture of Jesus hanging there crashed to the floor, scattering shards of glass all over the room.

The intensity of his anger scared me.  “I’m going for a walk – need some fresh air,” I said, and left Larry picking up the broken pieces of glass.

The clock in the tower by the pier said it was almost1 a.m.as I walked by.  Our conference every year was in the little resort town ofLakesideonLake Erie, one of those places where, except for an all-night donut shop, everything closes by11 p.m., and for once I was glad.  I needed some time alone to think, and walking along the rocky shore was always a great place for that.  There was something reassuring about the rhythm of the waves splashing over the rocks and against the retaining wall.  Even the pungent odor of an occasional dead perch shipwrecked on the shore added to the atmosphere.

I was tired and confused.  I had always prided myself on being liberal about most things, but this was the first time I’d really been put to the test on the gay issue, and I had failed miserably.  After walking awhile, I sat down on a park bench in the gazebo near the shuffleboard court and tried to figure out why – to remember things that might help me understand the whole situation.

I remembered walking along the lake another night when Larry told me he and Carolyn were getting divorced.  I’d never really understood what happened to their marriage, but that, at least, was beginning to make sense now.

Larry and I both enrolled at Union seminary in the fall of 1968.  The day I moved in, he spotted myOhioStatesweatshirt and was so glad to see someone from his home state that he invited me for dinner.  He and Carolyn were newly-weds, living down the hall from me in one of those efficiency closets the seminary called apartments.  Larry was a great cook – did most of the cooking, even before the divorce, and I discovered that first evening that, among other things, we shared a great love for sweet and sour pork.  Those were wonderful years – we were two young, idealistic theologues, railing against the Vietnam War from behind the safety of our IV-D clergy draft deferments, preparing for parish ministry, sure we could save the church and the world, or at least the United Methodists.  I don’t remember much church history or systematic theology from seminary classes, and even less Hebrew, but I do remember Larry and me talking about burning eschatological issues well into the night, washing our profound musings down with cheap wine that tasted so much better because it would soon be forbidden by our ordination vows.  I’d always felt bad that Carolyn seemed left out of those bull sessions.  She wasn’t privy to all the inside jokes from class, and she’d almost always go to bed early.  She was a nurse and had to leave for work at6 a.m., but I worried about their marriage, even then.  It seemed that the closer Larry and I became, the less he and Carolyn had in common.  Now I finally understood how little they actually did have in common.  I wondered if he knew, even then.

In a strange way, it was a relief to know.  Ever since Larry told me they were getting divorced, I’d felt guilty, like I helped cause the problem way back in the early days of their marriage.  Now I knew that they had a much bigger problem than me.

All kinds of transformed memories were flooding my mind, like a clergy retreat atCampWesleyright after their divorce.  I was so impressed with the way Larry shared his pain with the whole group that I hugged him – told him I loved him, and I meant it, as a friend, but now all I could think about was how that sounded to everyone else.

I remembered visiting Larry shortly after the divorce in a little backwoods cabin nearIndianLake.  In those days the church still forced ministers who got divorced to take a year off, and Larry was living in this little God-forsaken place owned by a friend of his – no running water, the only heat was from a wood-burning stove.  But it was fine in the summer, and I spent a couple of days there with him, fishing and relaxing.  We even cut a cord of firewood one day.  That was the time – of course, I remembered now – Larry tried to give me a massage that night because I was so sore from wrestling that chain saw around all day – and I was so uptight that every time he touched me, I giggled like a twelve year-old, until he finally just gave up.

It was becoming clearer to me now.  Sure, that was also the time that I was so nervous about where I was going to sleep.  That cabin only had one bedroom, and I remember now that I was never so glad to see a hide-a-bed in the living room in my life.

Damn, maybe Larry was right.  Maybe I did know, and I just refused to deal with it.

More memories washed over me like the waves on the lake shore, only these felt more like the angry waves of a powerful storm, like the ones I’d seen come in off the lake and drop a fifty-foot oak like it was a toothpick.  They were memories of the tasteless jokes I told Larry about gays and the stupid cracks about AIDS.  And then there was Robby Johnson, the kid in our Boy Scout troop that we tormented mercilessly because someone told us he was “queer.”  We used to pants him or take his clothes while he was in the shower and then laugh our heads off while he ran back to his tent naked.

And that time on one camp out, I was probably twelve or thirteen, when we played strip poker in our tent, me and Johnny Crane and Danny Brown.  I lost of course.  I always was a lousy card player.  After I ran out of clothes, every time I lost a hand they made me run around the outside of the tent naked while they lifted up the sides of the tent and shined their flashlights on me.  After we got tired of that, Johnny suggested we “jerk each other off” before we went to bed.  I was really nervous, but I did it anyway.  I don’t know why.  I do know for a long time after that, for several years, I was sure I must be queer, but I was too embarrassed to ever tell anyone.

A shiver from a cool breeze off the lake brought me back to the present, and I was surprised to see Larry standing in front of me.  “I was worried,” he said.  “I was afraid you felt like you had to stay out all night.  I’ll find someplace else to stay tomorrow.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary.  I was just sitting here thinking and lost track of the time.”

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, holding up a white donut bag.

Over coffee and donuts in the gazebo, I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened.  I thought I was pretty open about this issue, at least in theory, but it’s really different when it affects you personally.”

“You’re telling me?” he said, smiling.

I smiled too, glad for a break in the tension.  “That is funny, isn’t it?  But seriously, this has helped me realize that I’ve got a lot of things to sort out. I’m sorry I took it out on you.”  I told him what I’d been thinking about, everything – Robby and Johnny and Danny, even the hide-a-bed – things I’ve never told anyone before.  “Those are normal kinds of feelings, aren’t they?” I finally asked, trying hard not to sound too desperate for some assurance.

He chuckled, “Yes, very normal for you, and for ninety per cent of the population.  But not for me!”

He paused to dunk his donut and take a bite.  “Listen, Jim, I’m sorry about tonight, too.  I took a lot of anger out on you that didn’t belong to you.  A bunch of really heavy stuff has been piling up on me for months, and you just happened to be there when it finally blew.  Do you remember my friend Craig?  I think you met him one time when you were inCleveland.  He went out to dinner with us.”

“The one who was the minister at Trinity?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Didn’t I hear that he died recently?”

“Yeah, in February.”  He took a sip of coffee and looked very pensive.  “Craig was gay too and had a very hard time dealing with it.  He was like me – tried like hell to be “normal” and fit in, had a wife and kids.  He did his best to play the game, but it just didn’t work; and when the General Conference decreed again last year that gays are unappointable and unordainable, he just lost it.  He finally came out to his congregation one Sunday morning, if you can believe it, and then went home and gassed himself in the parsonage garage.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know how he died.”

“It was the same week that Gary, another friend of mine, died of AIDS, a terrible, slow death.  I preached both of their funerals, Jim, in the same week and didn’t dare let anybody know how much I really cared.”

We drank our coffee in silence, surrounded by the darkness and the enormity of Larry’s pain.  “Ash Wednesday was just two days after those funerals,” he continued, “and I was still really pissed at God and the church.  We had communion that night, and I felt like a stranger in my own church.  I went through the motions and said all the right words, but I kept thinking that Craig and Gary would not have been welcome there if people knew them, and I knew damn well that most of my “sisters and brothers in Christ” would choke on their bread if they knew who was serving it to them.  It was like I was in a daze, serving the elements to dozens of nameless, faceless people parading by the altar.

“And then I came home to an empty house, no one to talk to but the dog.  Steve was out of town, or so he said, but I realize now that he was probably already seeing someone else.  Another friend, George, called, inviting me to a belated Mardi Gras Party.  I was so lonely I would have gone anywhere with anybody.  Well, it was wild party, let me tell you, and they weren’t serving grape juice like we did at church.  So, I got a little bombed, and I had sex with three or four guys before the night was over.”

“You what!”

“Now, don’t pull parent on me, Jim.  I don’t need you to tell me how stupid I was.  I’ve never done anything like that in my life, even before AIDS!  The point is that I am that desperate, and it scares the hell out of me.  I don’t even know who those guys were, and I sure hope they didn’t know me; but the weird thing was how that awful, anonymous sex felt the same to me as serving communion to all those people who don’t know the real me either.”

Tears were flowing again, but this time Larry wasn’t crying alone.  We embraced and held each other for a long time, until Larry finally broke the silence, “Want some more coffee?  I can go get refills.”

“Sounds good to me.”

As I watched Larry walk toward the donut shop, I realized the sun was already beginning to brighten the eastern sky.  I watched the gulls skimming the lake for breakfast, and then I saw something I hadn’t noticed in the darkness.  On the retaining wall in front of the gazebo, someone had spray-painted “DEATH TO ALL FAGS!”  Without hesitation, I scrambled down over the rocks, picked up a sharp one and tried almost frantically to scrape the ugly letters off the wall, rubbing so hard I scraped my knuckles and left a trail of blood across the “A” in “DEATH.”  But it was hopeless; the paint would not come off.  I leaned my head against the wall in frustration and exhaustion.

Just then Larry’s voice started me, “You’d better be careful.”  I turned quickly to see him standing there with the coffees in his hands, watching me.

With a little grin on his face, he said, “If some people see you doing that, they might think you’re one of us.”

“I know,” I said, “and frankly, my friend, I don’t give a damn.”

 

SIGNS OF LIFE: MINISTRY OF GIFTS, Mark 6:30-44

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

We’ve had a series of medical emergencies during Sunday morning worship at our church this winter when it was necessary to call the emergency squad.  This has happened so often we’ve thought of asking the EMT’s if they’d like to join the congregation.  After all, they’ve been more regular attendees than some of our members!

I suppose that’s why I dreamed the other night that they came again, but there was a major difference in my dream.  Instead of one ambulance, a whole herd of them arrived in our parking lot, and they loaded up the whole congregation and took us to the ER to check our congregation for signs of life.  Ironically we had just finished singing the old Methodist hymn, “And Are We Yet Live?” when we heard the first sirens.

In the ER there was another patient in the cubicle next to ours, and HIPPA privacy laws or not, I could tell from the conversation I overheard through the flimsy dividing curtain that it was another congregation.  From the pieces of conversation I got between the doctors and nurses, I knew that other patient was in trouble.  They were checking the vital signs and none sounded good:

  • Spirituality – detected in the brain but not in the heart
  • Mode of Worship– luke warm and dropping fast
  • Small group involvement – below normal
  • Loving Community relationships– compound fractures and divisions
  • Evangelism and outreach – barely detectable

Pretty soon I heard the steady hum of a heart monitor that had flatlined.  I heard someone, I guessed the hospital chaplain, explain the death by quoting parts of the New Testament letter of James.  I questioned his bedside manner, but the words rang true –“Be doers of the word and not merely hearers…Faith without works is dead.”

That got me to wondering.  When new people first enter our church building do they see those signs of life?  Do they experience the final vital sign that is our topic for today — a congregation that shares God’s gifts in ministry and service to others?

Mark 6 says the disciples came back from their mission trips and their evangelistic efforts at school and work and “reported to Jesus all that they had done and taught.”   How different would our lives and our church’s life look if we intentionally reported to Jesus every day what we did that day for the good of God’s creation and God’s children?

Please note, I celebrate all the wonderful ministries our congregation is already doing – the ones going on for years, decades, some even for the 177 years we’ve been here.  And I love the new ministries, like the Knit Wits (who make warm hats for homeless folks) or our Kids Morning Out program that reaches out to the smallest members of God’s family.     So this isn’t about a guilt trip – those don’t ever take us anywhere God wants us to be.  This is about examining our hearts to see if we are discerning correctly what God wants us to be doing here in this place as a church in 2012.

One of the Jesus tests for answering that question comes from Matthew 25 where Jesus reminds that what we do for the least of our sisters and brothers is what we do for Christ.  Sometimes the least of us go to great lengths to hide their needs from others and from God.  The least could be someone who appears to have the most.  I read in the news this week that actress Jennifer Aniston spent—are you sitting down–$141,000 last year to maintain her youthful appearance.  After being shocked and angry at what she spent on hairdressers, personal trainers, a private nutritionist, and laser peels (I don’t even want to know what that is), I wondered if anyone is also ministering to her spiritual needs.  Is anyone sharing with her the good news that God loves her just the way she is without spending all that time and money on her exterior image?

The ministry of gifts is the rubber meets the road vital sign for the church.  Health professions measure our health by checking blood pressure and heart rate, weight and cholesterol.  What yard stick do we use to check how alive we are as a congregation?  Is it good enough to be doing better than the Presbyterians or Baptists?  Or more than our unbelieving friends and neighbors?  Sorry, Jesus doesn’t let us off the hook that easily.  Jesus himself is the gold standard, the best model of servanthood and the sharing of gifts.

Look at how Jesus lives that out in the familiar miracle story of the feeding of the 5000.   First, Jesus sees the crowd as they get off the boat on the way to a much-needed spiritual retreat.  Mark tells us that Jesus and the disciples were so busy ministering to the crowds who pressed in upon them to be healed and taught that they “had no time even to even eat.”  That’s way too busy.  Jesus sees the weariness and the need for a time away to rest and renew.  So they get in a boat to cross the lake, but the crowds saw them leaving and started texting and tweeting to their friends; so when Jesus and the disciples got to their destination to get away from it all – it was all there waiting for them.

How does Jesus respond to the needs of the crowds clamoring for time with him?  What we’d expect – he sees they are like sheep without a shepherd and he has compassion on them.  That’s all well and good.  I have compassion every time I see a homeless person standing by a freeway off ramp holding a “will work for food” sign.   I pray for them or even give a little cash, but then I quickly move on to my intended destination.  Not so our mentor servant Jesus.  He responds to the need he sees and postpones the R&R he and his boys really needed and were counting on.  He sees and feels the spiritual hunger of the crowd, and he teaches them.  He doesn’t toss a pious platitude to them or say “take two proverbs and call me in the morning.”   He sits down and listens to them, teaches them until the sun begins to set and his disciples interrupt to say it’s time for supper.

Ok, another need has arisen, this time not spiritual but physical hunger.  Notice the difference between Jesus’ response to this need and that of the disciples.  The disciples are anxious to get on with their own agenda.  They say, “Let’s send them over to Chipotle or Subway so they can buy themselves some food.”  “ Nope,” says the Lord.  He looks Peter and John and the others right in the eye, and he says, “YOU give them something to eat.”     And what does he get from the disciples?  Excuses.  “We don’t have that kind of bread, Jesus; we’ve barely got enough for ourselves.  There must be 5000 of them.  We can’t possibly feed them all!”

Jesus says, “Go, and see what you’ve got.  Check out your available resources.”  Jesus asks us to take that kind of inventory too.  What do we put on our list?  We don’t think about all the gifts we have as a congregation.  The big ones are obvious – the music program, the mission trips, the weekly trips to serve a meal to the homeless, Sunday school teachers & youth leaders, committee chairs – but what about the gift of a friendly smile to a stranger, the ministry of calling a child by name so she knows she matters, setting up chairs for worship, rocking an infant in the nursery.  And the ministry of gifts is an even more effective witness when we do it away from the church building.  Forgiving a rude driver on the road or giving up your spot in line at Kroger’s to a harried father with 3 squirmy pre-schoolers in tow – those are gifts of ministry to God’s children.  And let’s not overlook the gifts of ministry children offer us –their curiosity, pure innocent honesty, exuberance and energy.  In the Gospel of John’s version of this miracle (John 6) the food Jesus uses to feed the masses comes from a little boy in the crowd.

It is a gift to grow food for the hungry in your garden or to lead a community organization, mobilizing efforts to change things in our society and world that are unjust or just plain wrong.  We all have unique gifts,  and our call is to take whatever God has gifted each of us with and re-gift it to those who need it.

So the disciples report back to Jesus with a meager 5 loaves and 2 fish.   They give it to Jesus; he blesses it – offers it to God and has the disciples share it with the crowd.  Not only does everybody get food to eat, Mark tells us that they all are satisfied.  And not only that, there are enough leftovers to feed the next hungry people already coming down the road.

In the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 7), Jesus says, people will know us by our fruits.  [I held up a beautiful large red apple in one hand and a very black, over-ripe banana in the other]  What kind of fruit do we want to be known for?

Remember we’re not talking about buying new expensive gifts, just sharing the talents we already have.  When he feeds the multitude, Jesus doesn’t ask the disciples for more than they have – that would be terribly unfair, but he does ask us to trust him with ALL that we have – whatever that may be.  There’s a great example of the miraculous results the  spontaneous ministry of gifts can have in a short documentary on you tube about a little known part of the events of 9/11.  “Boatlift: The Untold Story of 9/11 Resilience” tells how immediately after the towers collapsed thousands of frightened people were desperate to get away from ground zero.  They had no idea what other attacks might be coming.  But the subways and bridges were all shut down, and as the film’s narrator Tom Hanks says, “Many people realized for the first time that Manhattan is an island.”  The miracle is that 500,000 people were evacuated from Manhattan in just 9 hours by a group of volunteer tug boat and ferry boat captains who saw a need and put out a radio plea for other boats to join them.  They had no plan, no organizational chart.  Dozens of good people simply decided to share the resources they had available – no more, no less – and their gifts bore great fruit.  (For the full story, go to  www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDOrzF7B2Kg.

When they do the EKG to check on the heartbeat of Jesus followers at Jerome Church, what fruits will they know us by?   What can we report to Jesus that we have done in the past and will do today to feed the spiritual and physical hungers of his children?

The bottom line is this – when the time comes for Jesus to check my spiritual vital signs he’s not going to ask me why I didn’t take my canoe to help with the boatlift on 9/11, or why I didn’t sing like Josh Groban, or minister to the desperately poor like Mother Theresa.  Those gifts belong to others, not me.   All Jesus is going to want to know is if I’ve been the best Steve Harsh I could be and used the gifts and talents God gave me to show God’s love and mercy to my sisters and brothers

Jesus will remind me that life isn’t Facebook.  We can’t just push a button and unfriend the annoying or the needy.  We are called to share the gifts of ministry with them all, the least and the most of them – the poor and the poor in spirit — to share with them all the gifts we’ve been given.  And when we do, miracles happen, and it is more than enough.