Sermon delivered Sunday, June 28, 2015, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Franklin, TN. 5th Sunday After Pentecost, Proper 8, Year B (2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27)
If you listen to the video, listen all the way to what I said at the announcements after the end of the sermon.
In our readings from the Hebrew Bible over the past few weeks, we have been hearing stories from the life of David. Last week we heard the story of David’s defeat of Goliath and his first introduction to King Saul and his son, Jonathan. Today we read the story of David’s mourning over Saul and Jonathan’s death.
It may come as a surprise to some of you, but readers of 1 and 2 Samuel have long debated whether the relationship between David and Jonathan was more than just friendship. In light of the Supreme Court’s decision on Friday to legalize same-sex marriage throughout the country and the fact that General Convention will be considering changing the canons – that is, our church law – to allow clergy to perform same-sex marriages in states where it is legal – which is now all states – I felt like I couldn’t ignore the “elephant in the room” in our scriptures this Sunday and not address David and Jonathan’s relationship.
Now, I sincerely apologize if this makes some of you uncomfortable or angry. My intention is not to be inflammatory or disrespectful of scripture in any way. I truly believe that the Spirit is speaking through this uncanny series of events – this passage coming up in the lectionary at the exact time as this issue is being considered by both church and state. You all know from hearing me preach for three years that I am a very lectionary-based preacher, as all our clergy are. I always base my sermons on the scriptures for the day, and nothing bothers me more than hearing a preacher get up and preach a sermon that has no connection at all to the scriptures that were just read. So I certainly hope that you do not perceive this sermon in that way. This is truly an attempt to delve more deeply into the scriptures and relate them to our context today, which is what I attempt to do with every sermon I preach.
If you have ever experienced same-sex attraction and are familiar with the story of David and Jonathan, you are likely already aware of the idea that their relationship was romantic. It has been read that way in gay circles for years. But if you have never fallen in love with someone of the same sex, you probably never would have thought to think that David and Jonathan were anything more than close friends. So let me highlight for you the parts of their story that lead some people to think this:
In last week’s reading, we heard this passage about David and Jonathan’s first meeting:
“When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. Saul took him that day and would not let him return to his father. Then Jonathan made a covenant with David, because he loved him as his own soul. Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that he was wearing, and gave it to David, and his armor, and even his sword and bow and his belt” (1 Samuel 18:1-4).
This passage is actually one of the scripture options given for use in the liturgy for blessing same-sex unions that General Convention approved in 2012. The intense language in this passage about David and Jonathan’s souls being “bound together” at their first meeting, their making a covenant with one another, Jonathan giving David all his prized possessions, and David moving into Jonathan’s house, are seen by some as an indication that there was more going on here than mere friendship, especially since, as rivals for the throne, David and Jonathan would have had every reason to hate one another.
And in fact, Jonathan’s father Saul does come to hate David. He sees in David a threat to his lineage and is aware that God’s favor has moved from him to David, and he is angry that his son Jonathan will not become king, so he spends the rest of his life trying to kill David. And through it all, Jonathan sticks by David, against the will of his father. He warns David about his father’s murderous plans and reaffirms his covenant with him. In chapter 20 of 1 Samuel, Jonathan says to David:
“‘If I am still alive, show me the faithful love of the Lord; but if I die, never cut off your faithful love from my house, even if the Lord were to cut off every one of the enemies of David from the face of the earth.’” (1 Samuel 20:14-15).
David remains true to this covenant, even taking Jonathan’s son into his own home after Jonathan’s death and giving him all the rights of the royal family that he would have if he were David’s own son.
The scripture tells us that in reiterating and reaffirming this covenant, “Jonathan made David swear again by his love for him; for he loved him as he loved his own life.” (1 Samuel 20:17)
After Jonathan returns home and his father Saul realizes Jonathan is defending David, Saul becomes enraged. The scripture says:
“Then Saul’s anger was kindled against Jonathan. He said to him, ‘You son of a perverse, rebellious woman! Do I not know that you have chosen the son of Jesse to your own shame and to the shame of your mother’s nakedness?’” (1 Samuel 20:30)
As one commentary on this text said, “Many gay men have experienced dinner conversations that sounded very similar to this one.” Although it’s probably not fair to make this direct comparison, since it’s not good scholarship to read modern-day experiences into ancient texts, Saul’s outburst does seem to indicate that there was something physical about David and Jonathan’s relationship, with his reference to the “shame of your mother’s nakedness,” since phrases like this often had sexual connotations in the Hebrew scriptures.
And then, in today’s passage from the Hebrew Bible, David says this as he mourns over the loss of Jonathan:
“I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;
greatly beloved were you to me;
your love to me was wonderful,
passing the love of women.” (2 Samuel 1:26)
Given all the other pieces of the puzzle, many have concluded that David’s assertion that Jonathan’s love was better to him than the love of women was not simply an ancient Near Eastern way of saying “Bros before hos, man,” but an expression of the fact that their love was of the same sort as his love for women, but yet of a deeper or more intense nature. (As an aside, if you’re not familiar with the phrase “Bros before hos,” it’s a saying used often by straight men in my generation or younger to express the sentiment that a man’s male friends (bros) should take priority over whatever woman or women he happens to be in relationship with at the moment (who are, not very flatteringly, referred to as “hos” in this expression), since the male friends will always be there for him, while romantic relationships will come and go.)
Ok, so for every scripture passage I’ve quoted here, there are arguments from the other perspective as to why these passages do NOT indicate that David and Jonathan’s relationship was anything more than a friendship. I’ve read the arguments on both sides and I’ve read the entire section of scripture that deals with their relationship myself (if you want to read the whole thing for yourself too, it begins in 1 Samuel, chapter 17 and continues through the first chapter of 2 Samuel). After taking all perspectives into consideration, I find that I can’t deny that there seems to be something more than friendship going on here, but perhaps that’s because I know the difference between a close friendship with someone of the same sex and something more.
I have many close female friends who are dear to me, but a number of years ago, I began to realize that my feelings for one particular friend were different from my feelings for my other friends. Our friendship was particularly close and intense, and I realized that the way I talked about her and behaved toward her was more like the way I’d talked about and behaved toward the guy I dated in high school, the only romantic relationship I’d had so far in my life. Although I was already supportive of my friends who were gay and lesbian, I never thought that I was in that category, until these feelings started emerging. Nothing ever came of them, because she was already in a committed relationship, and I never told her how I felt. And a few years later, God brought my husband into my life and I fell in love with him and we married. Since I take seriously the lifelong, exclusive commitment of marriage, I know I will never be in a romantic relationship with a woman at this point. But I’ve always wondered how my life would have been different if God had given me a woman to love instead of a man.
I’ve never shared this with anyone outside of a few of my closest friends. Most of my family have never heard this story. I’m choosing to share it publicly with you today because unlike our brothers and sisters who are exclusively attracted to members of the same sex, those of us who have discovered we are able to be attracted to members of both sexes are able to “hide,” so to speak. If we happen to fall in love with someone of the opposite sex, we never have to tell anyone that we once felt that way about someone of the same sex. Kenji Yoshino, a civil rights lawyer at Yale, calls this phenomenon “covering” – anything we do to downplay the “different” aspects of ourselves to fit into the mainstream. For me, it was easier to “cover” than it was to be open. But by doing that, I betrayed my brothers and sisters who cannot “cover,” whose differences are a matter of physical appearance or other qualities they cannot otherwise change or hide.
I am by no means trying to make an argument that there were same-sex marriages in biblical times. Our modern-day understanding of same-sex marriage simply did not exist during that time and it is dishonest scholarship to try to read our current social context into ancient times. And we have no way of really knowing whether the relationship between David and Jonathan was more than friendship or not. But on this historic weekend, I wanted to at least open the conversation about the fact that people who deeply love God and seek to honor and follow him with their lives can and do fall in love with people of the same sex, a love that binds their souls to one another.
The Episcopal Church’s Task Force on the Study of Marriage, which has met for the past three years to study the history, theology, and biblical framework surrounding marriage, has concluded that what distinguishes marriage from other more casual forms of relationship is “the commitment to a lifelong, loving, faithful relationship,” and what makes a marriage Christian is the fact that the members of the couple seek to pattern their lives toward each other and toward the community around them as a reflection of the self-giving love of Christ for the church. What makes a marriage holy is that the two people “see in each other the image of God.”
Now, I understand that some of you will insist that the two people in a marriage should be a man and a woman, and I want you to know that my respect for you is not and will not be lessened if that is your view. I was recently talking with my husband, who has mixed and uncertain feelings about same-sex marriage, and we tried very hard to listen to one another and understand why this issue is so emotionally charged for both of us. The light bulb finally went on for me when my husband said, “It’s like suddenly being told all the rules have changed. Everything you thought you knew and understood, everything you’d always been taught was wrong, is suddenly ok.” I could relate to how disorienting and disturbing that feeling is, and that conversation helped me to understand where he was coming from. In a committed relationship, diversity of opinion is what keeps the relationship growing and alive.
It is my hope that we can have these kinds of open conversations with one another in the coming weeks, in the wake of the Supreme Court’s decision and whatever General Convention will decide. I hope you will share your stories honestly and from your hearts. I hope you feel safe enough with the community here to have those conversations. And I hope that we all remember that no matter how different our feelings and opinions are on this issue, we are still brothers and sisters in Christ. We still share a common table and a common faith. We all gather here each week because we love and seek to follow Jesus. And after all, our baptism is the most important “marriage” in any of our lives – when we are “made one” not with any human partner, but with Christ. Each week when we come forward to receive the Eucharist, we reaffirm our commitment to that “love divine, all loves excelling,” that is only found in God. May the foundation of all our relationships, romantic and platonic, be always rooted and grounded in God and God’s infinite love for us.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Overcoming Adversity
Sermon delivered Sunday, June 21, 2015, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Franklin, TN at The Gathering Eucharist (alternative service), 10 a.m., held outside the side courtyard (usually in Otey Hall). 4 Pentecost, Proper 7, Year B (1 Samuel 17:(1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49, 2 Cor. 6:1-13, Mark 4:35-41)
The loose offering from this service was designated for the Mother Emanuel Hope Fund, to provide support to the families of the victims of the shootings in Charleston, SC.
Afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger.
Paul’s list in today’s passage from 2 Corinthians of all he has endured for the sake of the Gospel is not exactly a great selling point for following Jesus. “Come join us, and you too can experience afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger!” Oh goodie, where do I sign up?
Many of us often think that if we are following God and doing all the right things, no harm will come to us, and perhaps it’s not surprising we think this way, since there are many parts of the scriptures that affirm this correlation between good behavior or righteousness and prosperity and safety. Countless times throughout the “wisdom literature” of the Bible, which includes the books of Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, and the psalms, we hear some version of the idea that the righteous will prosper and the wicked will perish, that those who follow God will be rewarded and those who do not will be punished. That certainly sounds like an appealing system, one where our experiences are predictable and directly related to our actions, where people “get what they deserve,” so to speak, where the world is just.
But the reality of life is often quite different. It is easy to claim from an abstract philosophical perspective that we will be rewarded if we do good and punished if we do bad, but often our experiences don’t line up with those beliefs. A pillar of the community who has supported countless people and changed lives receives a diagnosis of a life-threatening illness and is dead within six months. A tornado drops out of nowhere and destroys the home of a young, struggling family who had just managed to purchase their first house. A young man from my hometown in South Carolina walks into a church in Charleston and kills nine people while they are gathered for prayer and Bible study.
Our reaction when we encounter such tragedies is often, “Why me?” or “Why them?”– especially if we think we or they were good people who didn’t “deserve” this. We can see this reaction from the disciples in today’s Gospel passage. Despite the fact that they have done everything “right” by following Jesus and doing what he asked in getting into the boat to cross to the other side of the lake, they are indignant with him when they encounter calamity along the way. When a storm threatens to capsize their boat, they wake up Jesus with the accusing statement, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” This is often our reaction to what we see as undeserved suffering. “What did I ever do to you, God? Do you not CARE that we are suffering? Why don’t you do something to stop it?” But our passage from 2 Corinthians offers another approach.
The suffering Paul and his companions experienced is not insignificant. We’re not talking about so-called “first world problems” like getting pickles on their sandwiches when they asked for no pickles, or their houses being so big they had to get two wireless routers. We’re talking some pretty horrific things -- afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger – and yet, he nonetheless proclaims that even in the midst of such suffering, they are truly blessed. No matter how awful their circumstances may appear from the outside, they are able to continue to praise God because they know the paradoxical truth of the Gospel, that through suffering can come new life, that there can be blessings even in the most unspeakable suffering. Although they are punished, they are not killed; although they are sorrowful, they always rejoice even in the midst of it; although they are poor, they are making many rich – maybe not literally, but in the truest sense of the word, through spiritual transformation; although they have nothing by physical standards, they actually possess everything that matters by spiritual standards through their faith in Jesus Christ and the assurance of new life that they have through him. No matter what people may say about them or what suffering they might encounter, their faith is not shaken.
Our passage from the Hebrew Bible today also gives us an example of keeping the faith in the midst of adversity. In the classic story of David and Goliath, David does not cower before a seemingly unconquerable obstacle. Though he is young and small and by all external standards seems a poor match for the giant warrior Goliath, he steps forward and agrees to meet Goliath’s challenge, trusting that God is with him despite his youth and lack of experience in battle.
Paul’s inspiring proclamation of faith and David’s heroism stand in direct contrast to the disciples in the Gospel passage, who panic in the face of the storm, who expect Jesus to keep them from ever suffering, who cannot trust that they will come through the storm with God’s help.
Where are you in these stories? Are you cowering with the disciples in the boat or proclaiming faith boldly in the midst of adversity with Paul? Are you like the disciples indignant that trouble has come their way, or like David striding confidently forward with only a few stones to defend himself?
Those of us who have had the good fortune of not experiencing much pain and suffering in this life are more likely to find ourselves cowering and indignant with the disciples in the boat when trouble comes our way. But those of us who have been people of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3) are likely to know something about what it takes to muster up courage and faith in the midst of adversity.
This weekend, the world is watching and mourning with our brothers and sisters in the Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC, after the horrific shootings there on Wednesday night. Unfortunately, our brothers and sisters in the black church are no strangers to suffering and grief. Their list of all they have endured over the years in terms of violence and intimidation could rival Paul’s list from 2 Corinthians, especially during the years of slavery and the civil rights movement: afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger. This list, foreign to so many of us in predominantly white churches, is all too familiar to many of our brothers and sisters in the black churches. And yet, somehow, many of them have managed to draw upon a deep reserve of faith that has seen them through these adversities and kept their hearts from being hardened by resentment and hate. On Friday, at the court hearing of shooter Dylann Roof, family members of those killed gathered to speak to him and told him they forgave him. What kind of faith gives you the strength to look your mother or son’s killer in the eyes and say, “I forgive you, may God have mercy on your soul?” Faith that has been refined through hardship; faith that knows that hate will never drive out hate, only love can do that; faith that knows that God can make a way where there is no way, as the saying goes.
And that’s exactly the kind of faith Paul and David had in our readings for today. They put their trust in God and drew upon the resources they had to find a way when many would have said there was no way.
In the story of David and Goliath, there is one small detail I have always overlooked that I’d like to lift up as a metaphor for our own abilities to overcome adversity. After rejecting Saul’s heavy armor because he wasn’t used to it, David goes to the river and picks out five smooth stones that he carries with them as his only weapons as he goes out to meet Goliath. Rather than putting his trust in the sword and spear and javelin, as his enemies did, David put his trust in God, and walks out completely unprotected, holding only a few stones. But those seemingly ineffective weapons actually give him victory over the giant.
The question in our walk of faith is not if we will suffer, but when. It’s not, “What can we do to avoid suffering?”, but, “How will we deal with suffering when it comes?” What resources will we draw upon to enable us to be able to say with the members of Emmanuel AME and the apostle Paul, “we are punished, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything”? Those resources might be our faith, the scriptures, our friends and families, a good counselor or spiritual director, spiritual practices that ground and center us, a special place we can go that brings us peace and comfort, or any number of other things. Those resources are the “stones” in our arsenal, or in our “toolkit,” if you prefer a less violent metaphor, that we put in our shepherd’s bag to take with us as we walk boldly toward the obstacles and the adversities that come our way.
What are your five smooth stones that you take with you to confront the adversities in your life? What resources help you to defeat the giant enemies in your spiritual walk?
In your bulletins you may have noticed a yellow piece of paper labeled, “My Five Smooth Stones.” If you noticed it, you probably had no idea what that was about, but now it should all be becoming clear to you. I’d like to invite you all to take a few moments to reflect on what your five smooth stones are (it doesn’t have to be exactly five; it could be more or less) that equip you to face adversity with faith and courage. And as you do that, I’ll be passing around this bowl full of candy stones, and ask you to each take a few to remind you of those resources in your lives that keep you strong. And if you’re missing any resources or think of ones you don’t have, make a commitment to reaching out and establishing those support systems for yourselves so you will be ready for the next giant or storm that comes your way.
The loose offering from this service was designated for the Mother Emanuel Hope Fund, to provide support to the families of the victims of the shootings in Charleston, SC.
Afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger.
Paul’s list in today’s passage from 2 Corinthians of all he has endured for the sake of the Gospel is not exactly a great selling point for following Jesus. “Come join us, and you too can experience afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger!” Oh goodie, where do I sign up?
Many of us often think that if we are following God and doing all the right things, no harm will come to us, and perhaps it’s not surprising we think this way, since there are many parts of the scriptures that affirm this correlation between good behavior or righteousness and prosperity and safety. Countless times throughout the “wisdom literature” of the Bible, which includes the books of Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, and the psalms, we hear some version of the idea that the righteous will prosper and the wicked will perish, that those who follow God will be rewarded and those who do not will be punished. That certainly sounds like an appealing system, one where our experiences are predictable and directly related to our actions, where people “get what they deserve,” so to speak, where the world is just.
But the reality of life is often quite different. It is easy to claim from an abstract philosophical perspective that we will be rewarded if we do good and punished if we do bad, but often our experiences don’t line up with those beliefs. A pillar of the community who has supported countless people and changed lives receives a diagnosis of a life-threatening illness and is dead within six months. A tornado drops out of nowhere and destroys the home of a young, struggling family who had just managed to purchase their first house. A young man from my hometown in South Carolina walks into a church in Charleston and kills nine people while they are gathered for prayer and Bible study.
Our reaction when we encounter such tragedies is often, “Why me?” or “Why them?”– especially if we think we or they were good people who didn’t “deserve” this. We can see this reaction from the disciples in today’s Gospel passage. Despite the fact that they have done everything “right” by following Jesus and doing what he asked in getting into the boat to cross to the other side of the lake, they are indignant with him when they encounter calamity along the way. When a storm threatens to capsize their boat, they wake up Jesus with the accusing statement, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” This is often our reaction to what we see as undeserved suffering. “What did I ever do to you, God? Do you not CARE that we are suffering? Why don’t you do something to stop it?” But our passage from 2 Corinthians offers another approach.
The suffering Paul and his companions experienced is not insignificant. We’re not talking about so-called “first world problems” like getting pickles on their sandwiches when they asked for no pickles, or their houses being so big they had to get two wireless routers. We’re talking some pretty horrific things -- afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger – and yet, he nonetheless proclaims that even in the midst of such suffering, they are truly blessed. No matter how awful their circumstances may appear from the outside, they are able to continue to praise God because they know the paradoxical truth of the Gospel, that through suffering can come new life, that there can be blessings even in the most unspeakable suffering. Although they are punished, they are not killed; although they are sorrowful, they always rejoice even in the midst of it; although they are poor, they are making many rich – maybe not literally, but in the truest sense of the word, through spiritual transformation; although they have nothing by physical standards, they actually possess everything that matters by spiritual standards through their faith in Jesus Christ and the assurance of new life that they have through him. No matter what people may say about them or what suffering they might encounter, their faith is not shaken.
Our passage from the Hebrew Bible today also gives us an example of keeping the faith in the midst of adversity. In the classic story of David and Goliath, David does not cower before a seemingly unconquerable obstacle. Though he is young and small and by all external standards seems a poor match for the giant warrior Goliath, he steps forward and agrees to meet Goliath’s challenge, trusting that God is with him despite his youth and lack of experience in battle.
Paul’s inspiring proclamation of faith and David’s heroism stand in direct contrast to the disciples in the Gospel passage, who panic in the face of the storm, who expect Jesus to keep them from ever suffering, who cannot trust that they will come through the storm with God’s help.
Where are you in these stories? Are you cowering with the disciples in the boat or proclaiming faith boldly in the midst of adversity with Paul? Are you like the disciples indignant that trouble has come their way, or like David striding confidently forward with only a few stones to defend himself?
Those of us who have had the good fortune of not experiencing much pain and suffering in this life are more likely to find ourselves cowering and indignant with the disciples in the boat when trouble comes our way. But those of us who have been people of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3) are likely to know something about what it takes to muster up courage and faith in the midst of adversity.
This weekend, the world is watching and mourning with our brothers and sisters in the Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC, after the horrific shootings there on Wednesday night. Unfortunately, our brothers and sisters in the black church are no strangers to suffering and grief. Their list of all they have endured over the years in terms of violence and intimidation could rival Paul’s list from 2 Corinthians, especially during the years of slavery and the civil rights movement: afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger. This list, foreign to so many of us in predominantly white churches, is all too familiar to many of our brothers and sisters in the black churches. And yet, somehow, many of them have managed to draw upon a deep reserve of faith that has seen them through these adversities and kept their hearts from being hardened by resentment and hate. On Friday, at the court hearing of shooter Dylann Roof, family members of those killed gathered to speak to him and told him they forgave him. What kind of faith gives you the strength to look your mother or son’s killer in the eyes and say, “I forgive you, may God have mercy on your soul?” Faith that has been refined through hardship; faith that knows that hate will never drive out hate, only love can do that; faith that knows that God can make a way where there is no way, as the saying goes.
And that’s exactly the kind of faith Paul and David had in our readings for today. They put their trust in God and drew upon the resources they had to find a way when many would have said there was no way.
In the story of David and Goliath, there is one small detail I have always overlooked that I’d like to lift up as a metaphor for our own abilities to overcome adversity. After rejecting Saul’s heavy armor because he wasn’t used to it, David goes to the river and picks out five smooth stones that he carries with them as his only weapons as he goes out to meet Goliath. Rather than putting his trust in the sword and spear and javelin, as his enemies did, David put his trust in God, and walks out completely unprotected, holding only a few stones. But those seemingly ineffective weapons actually give him victory over the giant.
The question in our walk of faith is not if we will suffer, but when. It’s not, “What can we do to avoid suffering?”, but, “How will we deal with suffering when it comes?” What resources will we draw upon to enable us to be able to say with the members of Emmanuel AME and the apostle Paul, “we are punished, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything”? Those resources might be our faith, the scriptures, our friends and families, a good counselor or spiritual director, spiritual practices that ground and center us, a special place we can go that brings us peace and comfort, or any number of other things. Those resources are the “stones” in our arsenal, or in our “toolkit,” if you prefer a less violent metaphor, that we put in our shepherd’s bag to take with us as we walk boldly toward the obstacles and the adversities that come our way.
What are your five smooth stones that you take with you to confront the adversities in your life? What resources help you to defeat the giant enemies in your spiritual walk?
In your bulletins you may have noticed a yellow piece of paper labeled, “My Five Smooth Stones.” If you noticed it, you probably had no idea what that was about, but now it should all be becoming clear to you. I’d like to invite you all to take a few moments to reflect on what your five smooth stones are (it doesn’t have to be exactly five; it could be more or less) that equip you to face adversity with faith and courage. And as you do that, I’ll be passing around this bowl full of candy stones, and ask you to each take a few to remind you of those resources in your lives that keep you strong. And if you’re missing any resources or think of ones you don’t have, make a commitment to reaching out and establishing those support systems for yourselves so you will be ready for the next giant or storm that comes your way.
Sunday, June 14, 2015
The Lord has chosen YOU!
Sermon delivered Sunday, June 14, 2015, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Franklin, TN
3 Pentecost, Proper 6, Year B (1 Samuel 15:34-16:13)
What does it mean to be "chosen" by God?
In the Hebrew scripture for today, we heard the story of God choosing David to replace Saul as king of Israel. God tells Samuel he has chosen one of Jesse’s sons to be the next king, so Samuel goes to visit Jesse and find the chosen one. One by one, Jesse’s sons come before Samuel, but Samuel hears from God that none of these are the chosen one. He finally finds out that there is one more son that no one has thought to bring in, since he is young and is out tending the sheep. When this youngest son, David, comes before Samuel, he knows instantly that this is the one God has chosen as the next leader of Israel.
I don’t know about you, but in today’s day and age, I think many people tend to be skeptical about people or communities who claim to be “chosen by God.” If that person is the chosen one, who is everyone else? The non-chosen ones? The rejected ones? The not-good-enough ones? Language about being “chosen” can easily lead people to believe they are superior to others, to take being “chosen” as an indication that they are better than those who are not chosen, that David was somehow better than his brothers, for example, because God chose him rather than any of them.
That’s certainly one way of interpreting what it means to be “chosen by God” – that we are the special ones, that we are superior to others, that God loves us more than God loves everyone else – and certainly there is scriptural precedent for holding such a perspective. But I prefer another narrative in scripture that reminds us that we are ALL people of God, that God’s temple is a house of prayer for ALL nations, not just the Israelites, that “God shows no partiality, but in every nation those who fear him and do what is right are acceptable to him” (Acts 10:34-35), that we are ALL chosen by God; it’s just that we are not all chosen to do the same thing. Claiming to be "chosen by God" only becomes a problem when we believe that the thing God has chosen us to do is better than the things God has chosen other people to do.
My grandfather, who was not a church-going man himself, used to say, "What a good thing it is that God made us all different -- that's what makes the world go 'round." Or, as the letter to the Ephesians puts it:
"[E]ach of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. (Ephesians 4:7, 11-13)
Paul’s metaphor about the church as the body of Christ emphasizes how essential diversity is within the community. We need all parts of the body to function effectively. If we all tried to do the same things, not much would get done. Just because David’s brothers were not chosen to be king did not mean that God did not have a plan for their lives, or that God valued them less than God valued their brother.
Each of us has particular gifts that God has given us to use for the building up of the body of Christ. No one gift is better than any of the others. Even this passage from Ephesians is quite limiting, since it talks about people being called to be apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers -- but God also chooses people to be health care workers and architects and BBQ or English tea volunteers and vestry members and gardeners and finance committee members. What role has God chosen you to play in building up the body of Christ? Where do your gifts lie in serving God and bringing others to the knowledge and love of God? (As an aside, if you’re not quite sure of the answer to that question, I invite you to consider joining our next group of Faith Leaders, which will begin in the fall. Faith Leaders is an eight-month-long program for adults that meets weekly and helps people discern what their gifts are and how God is calling them to use their gifts in the world.)
In my own experience of discerning my call to the priesthood, I have come to believe that at any given time, God is calling us to a particular path that will bring us to a place of abundant blessing if we choose to follow it. I believe God will still be with us and work good in our lives even if we do not choose that path, but I do believe that we will find more fulfillment and abundant blessings if we do follow the tug of God’s call, however impractical it may seem.
In late college and the beginning of graduate school, I planned to pursue a career in journalism. I knew I loved studying religion, and I was also a good writer, so I thought I would combine these two things and become a religion reporter for a newspaper. My experiences in the world of journalism were all rewarding in some sense, but while I was writing articles and copy editing newspaper pages, I couldn't shake the sense that there was something else that I should be doing. From the first time I began to read the Bible in earnest in late high school, I had been struck by Jesus's injunction to reach out to the poor. Passages from Scripture like, "If you love me, feed my sheep" (John 21:15-17), and "whatever you did to the least of these, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40), would ring in my head as I walked past homeless people begging for change on the streets.
Finally, I listened to the call and began to volunteer with an outdoor church for the homeless in Cambridge, Massachusetts, similar to the Church in the Yard here in Nashville. You’ve heard me mention this ministry in sermons before. Although I had no idea what to say or do as I interacted with the people on the streets and I felt completely unqualified and incompetent to do that ministry, it certainly brought me much closer to God than journalism ever had. After I wrote some reflections about my experiences with the Outdoor Church, some of my mentors suggested that I might consider ordained ministry. Although every practical bone in my body told me it was time to get a "real job" and start making money to pay off my educational debt, I felt drawn to devote intentional time to discern whether or not I was called to ordained ministry. So, I decided to take a year to reflect and pray through one of the Episcopal Service Corps internship, designed to help young adults in their 20s and early 30s discern their vocational call. Although I wanted to stay in the northeast, in Boston or New York, it turned out that the place God had for me was in Omaha, Nebraska. I could have turned down the opportunity because Omaha was not where I wanted to be, but I’m so glad I didn’t, because it became obvious to me once I arrived and met the wonderful people there who supported me in my discernment that I had found the place of deep blessing that God had for me at that time.
Listening to God's call is not often easy or practical, in my experience. But when God chooses us to do something, we actually have very little choice in the matter. From comparing notes with others in the field of ordained ministry, I have heard countless stories of people who have denied their calling for many years, pursuing another career, until finally they were able to accept and begin to live into that place of deep blessing to which God had been calling them all their lives. Like Jonah, we are finally unable to run from our calling, however scared we might be to accept it.
Accepting that we are chosen by God can be difficult, especially since we often mistakenly think that we cannot be chosen unless we are of a certain level of righteousness and holiness. But the only thing we have to do to disabuse ourselves of that notion is to return to the study of scripture. None of the people chosen by God in scripture were perfect. Think about David, who we read about today. The “spirit of the Lord was mightily upon David,” and yet he still wound up committing adultery and having the husband of his lover killed in battle so he could have her for himself. Not exactly model behavior. But he was still chosen by God to do the role he was called to do.
One of my favorite quotes about our reluctance to accept that we are chosen by God is often attributed to Nelson Mandela, but was actually written by Marianne Williamson, an author and minister in the Unity Church. She writes,
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 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.”
I believe this is what happens when we begin to follow the path that God has prepared for us -- we are brought face to face with our belovedness and are liberated from our fear. God begins to pry open our hearts to accept God's love and to offer it to others. It may not always be the path we would have expected to take, and it may not be the path that others would have us take -- but it is the path God calls us to nonetheless. And it is an invitation to a place of great blessing.
My prayer is that each of you would find that path, that place of great blessing, in your own lives, and in doing so you would find yourselves face to face with a God who loves you and who chooses you - every day and every hour - to represent God's love to the world.
The Lord has chosen YOU. So, "let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works, and glorify God in heaven" (Matthew 5:16).
3 Pentecost, Proper 6, Year B (1 Samuel 15:34-16:13)
What does it mean to be "chosen" by God?
In the Hebrew scripture for today, we heard the story of God choosing David to replace Saul as king of Israel. God tells Samuel he has chosen one of Jesse’s sons to be the next king, so Samuel goes to visit Jesse and find the chosen one. One by one, Jesse’s sons come before Samuel, but Samuel hears from God that none of these are the chosen one. He finally finds out that there is one more son that no one has thought to bring in, since he is young and is out tending the sheep. When this youngest son, David, comes before Samuel, he knows instantly that this is the one God has chosen as the next leader of Israel.
I don’t know about you, but in today’s day and age, I think many people tend to be skeptical about people or communities who claim to be “chosen by God.” If that person is the chosen one, who is everyone else? The non-chosen ones? The rejected ones? The not-good-enough ones? Language about being “chosen” can easily lead people to believe they are superior to others, to take being “chosen” as an indication that they are better than those who are not chosen, that David was somehow better than his brothers, for example, because God chose him rather than any of them.
That’s certainly one way of interpreting what it means to be “chosen by God” – that we are the special ones, that we are superior to others, that God loves us more than God loves everyone else – and certainly there is scriptural precedent for holding such a perspective. But I prefer another narrative in scripture that reminds us that we are ALL people of God, that God’s temple is a house of prayer for ALL nations, not just the Israelites, that “God shows no partiality, but in every nation those who fear him and do what is right are acceptable to him” (Acts 10:34-35), that we are ALL chosen by God; it’s just that we are not all chosen to do the same thing. Claiming to be "chosen by God" only becomes a problem when we believe that the thing God has chosen us to do is better than the things God has chosen other people to do.
My grandfather, who was not a church-going man himself, used to say, "What a good thing it is that God made us all different -- that's what makes the world go 'round." Or, as the letter to the Ephesians puts it:
"[E]ach of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. (Ephesians 4:7, 11-13)
Paul’s metaphor about the church as the body of Christ emphasizes how essential diversity is within the community. We need all parts of the body to function effectively. If we all tried to do the same things, not much would get done. Just because David’s brothers were not chosen to be king did not mean that God did not have a plan for their lives, or that God valued them less than God valued their brother.
Each of us has particular gifts that God has given us to use for the building up of the body of Christ. No one gift is better than any of the others. Even this passage from Ephesians is quite limiting, since it talks about people being called to be apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers -- but God also chooses people to be health care workers and architects and BBQ or English tea volunteers and vestry members and gardeners and finance committee members. What role has God chosen you to play in building up the body of Christ? Where do your gifts lie in serving God and bringing others to the knowledge and love of God? (As an aside, if you’re not quite sure of the answer to that question, I invite you to consider joining our next group of Faith Leaders, which will begin in the fall. Faith Leaders is an eight-month-long program for adults that meets weekly and helps people discern what their gifts are and how God is calling them to use their gifts in the world.)
In my own experience of discerning my call to the priesthood, I have come to believe that at any given time, God is calling us to a particular path that will bring us to a place of abundant blessing if we choose to follow it. I believe God will still be with us and work good in our lives even if we do not choose that path, but I do believe that we will find more fulfillment and abundant blessings if we do follow the tug of God’s call, however impractical it may seem.
In late college and the beginning of graduate school, I planned to pursue a career in journalism. I knew I loved studying religion, and I was also a good writer, so I thought I would combine these two things and become a religion reporter for a newspaper. My experiences in the world of journalism were all rewarding in some sense, but while I was writing articles and copy editing newspaper pages, I couldn't shake the sense that there was something else that I should be doing. From the first time I began to read the Bible in earnest in late high school, I had been struck by Jesus's injunction to reach out to the poor. Passages from Scripture like, "If you love me, feed my sheep" (John 21:15-17), and "whatever you did to the least of these, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40), would ring in my head as I walked past homeless people begging for change on the streets.
Finally, I listened to the call and began to volunteer with an outdoor church for the homeless in Cambridge, Massachusetts, similar to the Church in the Yard here in Nashville. You’ve heard me mention this ministry in sermons before. Although I had no idea what to say or do as I interacted with the people on the streets and I felt completely unqualified and incompetent to do that ministry, it certainly brought me much closer to God than journalism ever had. After I wrote some reflections about my experiences with the Outdoor Church, some of my mentors suggested that I might consider ordained ministry. Although every practical bone in my body told me it was time to get a "real job" and start making money to pay off my educational debt, I felt drawn to devote intentional time to discern whether or not I was called to ordained ministry. So, I decided to take a year to reflect and pray through one of the Episcopal Service Corps internship, designed to help young adults in their 20s and early 30s discern their vocational call. Although I wanted to stay in the northeast, in Boston or New York, it turned out that the place God had for me was in Omaha, Nebraska. I could have turned down the opportunity because Omaha was not where I wanted to be, but I’m so glad I didn’t, because it became obvious to me once I arrived and met the wonderful people there who supported me in my discernment that I had found the place of deep blessing that God had for me at that time.
Listening to God's call is not often easy or practical, in my experience. But when God chooses us to do something, we actually have very little choice in the matter. From comparing notes with others in the field of ordained ministry, I have heard countless stories of people who have denied their calling for many years, pursuing another career, until finally they were able to accept and begin to live into that place of deep blessing to which God had been calling them all their lives. Like Jonah, we are finally unable to run from our calling, however scared we might be to accept it.
Accepting that we are chosen by God can be difficult, especially since we often mistakenly think that we cannot be chosen unless we are of a certain level of righteousness and holiness. But the only thing we have to do to disabuse ourselves of that notion is to return to the study of scripture. None of the people chosen by God in scripture were perfect. Think about David, who we read about today. The “spirit of the Lord was mightily upon David,” and yet he still wound up committing adultery and having the husband of his lover killed in battle so he could have her for himself. Not exactly model behavior. But he was still chosen by God to do the role he was called to do.
One of my favorite quotes about our reluctance to accept that we are chosen by God is often attributed to Nelson Mandela, but was actually written by Marianne Williamson, an author and minister in the Unity Church. She writes,
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. 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.”
I believe this is what happens when we begin to follow the path that God has prepared for us -- we are brought face to face with our belovedness and are liberated from our fear. God begins to pry open our hearts to accept God's love and to offer it to others. It may not always be the path we would have expected to take, and it may not be the path that others would have us take -- but it is the path God calls us to nonetheless. And it is an invitation to a place of great blessing.
My prayer is that each of you would find that path, that place of great blessing, in your own lives, and in doing so you would find yourselves face to face with a God who loves you and who chooses you - every day and every hour - to represent God's love to the world.
The Lord has chosen YOU. So, "let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works, and glorify God in heaven" (Matthew 5:16).
Sunday, June 7, 2015
But all the cool kids are doing it!
Sermon delivered Sunday, June 7, 2015, at The Gathering (alternative Eucharist) at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Franklin, TN. 2 Pentecost, Proper 5, Year B (1 Samuel 8:4-20, Mark 3:20-35)
I’m sure at some point in our lives, most of us have experienced some version of this conversation:
Child: “Hey Mom, this guy Jason invited me to a party this weekend. Can I go?”
Parent: “Um, isn’t Jason the one who has those huge parties at his house when his parents aren’t even home? The ones where the neighbors called the cops last year? I don’t THINK so. Some parents might allow that kind of stuff, but not while you’re under my roof you won’t go to a party like that.”
Child: “But all the cool kids are doing it!”
Parent: “If the cool kids all jumped off a bridge, would you?”
How many of you have ever had a conversation like this, whether you were playing the role of the child or the parent?
Well, in some ways that conversation is what’s going on in our reading from the Hebrew scriptures today. The people of Israel ask Samuel to appoint them a king so they can be like everyone else. “Come on, Samuel, all the cool kids are doing it,” right? You heard the story in the first reading, but here’s a little refresher for you:
Elder 1: “Hey Samuel, you’ve done a pretty good job of leading Israel as prophet and judge, but you’re getting old, and actually, we really kinda question your judgment in appointing your sons as the next judges.”
Elder 2: “Yeah, I mean, we love you and everything, but let’s just say that the apple seems to have fallen pretty far from the tree. Your sons have been engaged in some questionable and corrupt behavior.”
Elder 3: “So we’ve got an idea – why don’t you appoint a king to rule over us? Then we could be like all the other nations!”
Samuel: “Um, I don’t THINK so. There’s a reason God never intended for you to have a king. You’re supposed to be different from all the other nations. God is your king!”
Elders: “But we want to be like everyone else!”
Samuel: “Ok, but if I appoint a king over you, he’s going to take the best of your stuff and send your children to war.”
Elders: “We don’t care! All the cool kids are doing it!”
The biblical stories and Jewish and Christian lore glorify the Israelite monarchy so much that it’s easy to forget that God never intended for Israel to have kings in the first place. The early history of the Israelites in the biblical texts emphasizes quite often that the people did not have a king, by God’s design, because this was to remind them that God was their king. Instead, they were governed by a series of “judges,” who were charismatic leaders raised up by God to deal with issues as they arose among the people and to serve as mediator between God and the people. Their scope of influence was broader than the way we understand the term “judge” in the modern American legal system; these leaders would often also lead the people into battle and work to preserve the physical security of the people as well as mediate disputes. But their power was still much more limited than a king’s would have been.
Israel was governed by a series of judges for about 125 years, from after Joshua conquered the land of Canaan until the establishment of the monarchy that we hear about in today’s reading. When the people of Israel asked for a king, they were asking for a much more structured, centralized form of government, with a large amount of power concentrated in the hands of one person. The reason Samuel was upset that they made this request was not only that they were rejecting one of the things that made them distinctive from the surrounding peoples, but because in doing so, they were also implicitly rejecting God. By asking for a human ruler instead, the people were indicating that God was no longer good enough in God’s governance of them. They thought they had a better idea. And they got that idea from looking around at what everyone else was doing.
We human beings are so susceptible to this, aren’t we? Though much has changed since the time of Samuel and Saul, one thing that hasn’t changed much is human nature, especially this tendency to compare ourselves to others and to want to be like everyone else. Whether it’s adults trying to “keep up with the Joneses” or teenagers wanting to be “like the cool kids,” most of us seem to have an innate desire to belong, to be seen as “one of the group.” It is hard to stand out and be different, and yet that is often what following God requires us to do.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus serves as a perfect contrast to the elders in the first reading. Jesus acts in ways that make him stand out as different from those around him, but unlike the elders in our first reading, he is not insecure about this difference. When people start saying he’s crazy and demon-possessed, he doesn’t let this shame him into acting more “normal.” He doesn’t say, “Oh my goodness, people think I’m crazy; I’d better change my behavior so I can fit in and be like the cool kids!” Instead, he defends himself against the accusations of demon-possession and stands firm in his identity. He knows who he is and what he is called to do and he doesn’t let what everyone else thinks about him influence him or affect him.
Not only does he reject society’s pressure to act like everyone else, in this passage he also redefines what it means to belong. When his mother and brother and sisters come looking for him, presumably to try to “restrain him,” as the beginning of the passage tells us, he doesn’t respond to their anxiety or their attempts to control his actions. Instead, he looks around at those gathered with him, those have left everything to follow him, those who are not held captive by a need to do only what is societally acceptable, and says, “Who are my mother and my brothers? Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” He redefines what it means to belong. In the kind of community God wants us to create, we find our sense of belonging not by trying to be like everyone else, or doing what all the cool kids are doing, but by following God.
So now it’s your turn. You all are the sermon illustrations today! I want to know what your experiences are with feeling a need to do what everyone else is doing, and what your experiences are with finding your sense of belonging from following God rather than from trying to be like everyone else.
At this point during the worship service, people were handed a piece of paper with these two questions to respond to. They were given the opportunity to respond by posting on Facebook, writing in a journal, or creating some kind of artistic, visual response, and were invited to bring their responses forward to post on a cork board at the front of the room. If you're reading this sermon online only, you're invited to participate in this process by responding to these questions in the comments section below or on Facebook (if you're reading it there.):
Take a few moments to reflect on a time in your life when you wanted to do something in order to be like someone else. It could be a story from any age or stage in your life. When have you wanted to do something just to “fit in” or because you saw someone else doing it and wanted to be like them? What did you want to do?
Then, reflect on a time in your life when you did what you knew God was calling you to do, even if it made you different from everyone else. Have you experienced what it means to find your sense of belonging by following God’s will rather than by trying to be like everyone else? What did you do? What gave you the strength and courage to do what God was calling you to do?
At the end of the time of response, I concluded the sermon with this:
Thank you all for sharing your stories with us and for being living sermon illustrations today. Take time to stop and look more closely at the board after you come up and receive communion, and go on the St. Paul’s Facebook page later and read others’ stories. As you receive the gift of others stories and responses, “hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people” through the scriptures and through your own lives.
I’m sure at some point in our lives, most of us have experienced some version of this conversation:
Child: “Hey Mom, this guy Jason invited me to a party this weekend. Can I go?”
Parent: “Um, isn’t Jason the one who has those huge parties at his house when his parents aren’t even home? The ones where the neighbors called the cops last year? I don’t THINK so. Some parents might allow that kind of stuff, but not while you’re under my roof you won’t go to a party like that.”
Child: “But all the cool kids are doing it!”
Parent: “If the cool kids all jumped off a bridge, would you?”
How many of you have ever had a conversation like this, whether you were playing the role of the child or the parent?
Well, in some ways that conversation is what’s going on in our reading from the Hebrew scriptures today. The people of Israel ask Samuel to appoint them a king so they can be like everyone else. “Come on, Samuel, all the cool kids are doing it,” right? You heard the story in the first reading, but here’s a little refresher for you:
Elder 1: “Hey Samuel, you’ve done a pretty good job of leading Israel as prophet and judge, but you’re getting old, and actually, we really kinda question your judgment in appointing your sons as the next judges.”
Elder 2: “Yeah, I mean, we love you and everything, but let’s just say that the apple seems to have fallen pretty far from the tree. Your sons have been engaged in some questionable and corrupt behavior.”
Elder 3: “So we’ve got an idea – why don’t you appoint a king to rule over us? Then we could be like all the other nations!”
Samuel: “Um, I don’t THINK so. There’s a reason God never intended for you to have a king. You’re supposed to be different from all the other nations. God is your king!”
Elders: “But we want to be like everyone else!”
Samuel: “Ok, but if I appoint a king over you, he’s going to take the best of your stuff and send your children to war.”
Elders: “We don’t care! All the cool kids are doing it!”
The biblical stories and Jewish and Christian lore glorify the Israelite monarchy so much that it’s easy to forget that God never intended for Israel to have kings in the first place. The early history of the Israelites in the biblical texts emphasizes quite often that the people did not have a king, by God’s design, because this was to remind them that God was their king. Instead, they were governed by a series of “judges,” who were charismatic leaders raised up by God to deal with issues as they arose among the people and to serve as mediator between God and the people. Their scope of influence was broader than the way we understand the term “judge” in the modern American legal system; these leaders would often also lead the people into battle and work to preserve the physical security of the people as well as mediate disputes. But their power was still much more limited than a king’s would have been.
Israel was governed by a series of judges for about 125 years, from after Joshua conquered the land of Canaan until the establishment of the monarchy that we hear about in today’s reading. When the people of Israel asked for a king, they were asking for a much more structured, centralized form of government, with a large amount of power concentrated in the hands of one person. The reason Samuel was upset that they made this request was not only that they were rejecting one of the things that made them distinctive from the surrounding peoples, but because in doing so, they were also implicitly rejecting God. By asking for a human ruler instead, the people were indicating that God was no longer good enough in God’s governance of them. They thought they had a better idea. And they got that idea from looking around at what everyone else was doing.
We human beings are so susceptible to this, aren’t we? Though much has changed since the time of Samuel and Saul, one thing that hasn’t changed much is human nature, especially this tendency to compare ourselves to others and to want to be like everyone else. Whether it’s adults trying to “keep up with the Joneses” or teenagers wanting to be “like the cool kids,” most of us seem to have an innate desire to belong, to be seen as “one of the group.” It is hard to stand out and be different, and yet that is often what following God requires us to do.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus serves as a perfect contrast to the elders in the first reading. Jesus acts in ways that make him stand out as different from those around him, but unlike the elders in our first reading, he is not insecure about this difference. When people start saying he’s crazy and demon-possessed, he doesn’t let this shame him into acting more “normal.” He doesn’t say, “Oh my goodness, people think I’m crazy; I’d better change my behavior so I can fit in and be like the cool kids!” Instead, he defends himself against the accusations of demon-possession and stands firm in his identity. He knows who he is and what he is called to do and he doesn’t let what everyone else thinks about him influence him or affect him.
Not only does he reject society’s pressure to act like everyone else, in this passage he also redefines what it means to belong. When his mother and brother and sisters come looking for him, presumably to try to “restrain him,” as the beginning of the passage tells us, he doesn’t respond to their anxiety or their attempts to control his actions. Instead, he looks around at those gathered with him, those have left everything to follow him, those who are not held captive by a need to do only what is societally acceptable, and says, “Who are my mother and my brothers? Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” He redefines what it means to belong. In the kind of community God wants us to create, we find our sense of belonging not by trying to be like everyone else, or doing what all the cool kids are doing, but by following God.
So now it’s your turn. You all are the sermon illustrations today! I want to know what your experiences are with feeling a need to do what everyone else is doing, and what your experiences are with finding your sense of belonging from following God rather than from trying to be like everyone else.
At this point during the worship service, people were handed a piece of paper with these two questions to respond to. They were given the opportunity to respond by posting on Facebook, writing in a journal, or creating some kind of artistic, visual response, and were invited to bring their responses forward to post on a cork board at the front of the room. If you're reading this sermon online only, you're invited to participate in this process by responding to these questions in the comments section below or on Facebook (if you're reading it there.):
Take a few moments to reflect on a time in your life when you wanted to do something in order to be like someone else. It could be a story from any age or stage in your life. When have you wanted to do something just to “fit in” or because you saw someone else doing it and wanted to be like them? What did you want to do?
Then, reflect on a time in your life when you did what you knew God was calling you to do, even if it made you different from everyone else. Have you experienced what it means to find your sense of belonging by following God’s will rather than by trying to be like everyone else? What did you do? What gave you the strength and courage to do what God was calling you to do?
At the end of the time of response, I concluded the sermon with this:
Thank you all for sharing your stories with us and for being living sermon illustrations today. Take time to stop and look more closely at the board after you come up and receive communion, and go on the St. Paul’s Facebook page later and read others’ stories. As you receive the gift of others stories and responses, “hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people” through the scriptures and through your own lives.
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