Today's Sermon: Cutting it close today

"I Don't Do Windows"

I suppose you are probably wondering about the windows hanging all around. What do they have to do with Advent or Christmas or anything really? Well it all started with the painting that is on the cover of the bulletin today. It is a painting by Salvador Dali, which if you know his work it is probably his later work and it is very different than this rather tame painting. It is called Girl in the Window. Phillip, Gini and I planned the services for the season together. And after we read all the texts for this season we began looking through various resources that I had. One of which is a coffee table book that I have used before in various ways. It is on display in the back. And on the first day for this Advent we came across this painting. And it seemed to take off from there. We started thinking about hanging windows from the space, and it took asking one person to find a whole assortment of windows. And then as I was searching for another poem by Wendell Berry I found the entire collection titled Window. Window. And it seemed to be rich for our exploration of the season.
As you all know windows are used for both looking in and looking out. And this season is all about what is inside or here already, and what is outside or not yet. During the season of Advent we begin retelling a story that has already happened many years ago. It is a story of prophecy that pointed to a young girl and her espoused traveling to Bethlehem and having a baby that they would name Jesus. It has shepherds and magi and angels. And that story happened 2000 years ago. That story is read in houses all over the world on the night that we celebrate a birth. That story is retold when we put up a tree in our homes and lights in our windows It is retold when we unwrap again the individual pieces of our nativity scenes that are crafted out of wood or paper or ceramic. And we once again try and figure out just how we are going to suspend that angel up over the manger.
And yet what we find in our advent texts is not this story. There are no stars in this story, at least not yet. As a matter of fact in today's gospel lesson the stars have fallen out of the sky. This advent story is about something that hasn't happened yet. It is about something out there, beyond the horizon. It is the story of an apocalypse. A second coming. Or better still an end to the world as we know it. The story Linus in the Peanuts cartoon tells begins with "and there were shepherds abiding in the field…." This one begins, "But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give it s light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken." This is not the story that can be told by some animated character. Or at least not the way I've heard it. The apocalypse is something that is scary. Well when I was growing up it was frightening for those who had not become Christians. But there was also the fear that perhaps I had done something that would prevent me from being taken up in the clouds with Jesus. I would be …duh, duh, duh…left behind. And I did not want to be left behind. And I have to say that even the idea of just being taken up in the clouds was a little frightening to me as a child. I remember a friend of mine had in their house a painting that was a depiction of the second coming. It had Jesus at the top of the painting in a cloud. And he was looking down on a city. And the scene was of car crashes and abandoned vehicles and then humans flying up out of their cars to meet Jesus in the sky. Which reminds me of my favorite bumper sticker, "In case of rapture, can I have your car?" And while that is funny to me now, as a child the apocalypse was no laughing matter. So in a story that ends with angels proclaiming to shepherds to "fear not." What does this Gospel story have to do with Advent?
Well it helps to start by looking at the context in which Mark’s gospel was written. Most scholars agree that Mark was written before Matthew, Luke or John, somewhere around the year 70. These were troubled times for the early believers. In Rome, Nero had initiated a campaign of terror against Christians, and soon after that the Romans completely quashed a Jewish rebellion. Violence and persecution abounded; things were not going well.

On top of all that, the one they believed had come to change their fortunes, their Messiah, was long gone. Before getting the death penalty, which wasn’t exactly what they had hoped for in a leader, he had promised he would be right back. And for a while, against all odds, they believed him. They didn’t make any long range plans. They focused all their energy on waiting for his return. They had, to use some big words from seminary, an “apocalyptic eschatological expectation.” The professor who taught me those terms told his students if we ever found ourselves losing a theological argument, we could instantly regain the upper hand by saying that phrase loudly and with confidence: “Apocalyptic Eschatological Expectation!” Big words, but it just means people thought Jesus was coming back soon, gathering faithful believers into his kingdom.

But now, decades after Jesus’ death, things were looking pretty grim. Most of the people who had actually seen Jesus had died. The stories being told about him were now mostly hearsay, not firsthand accounts. People were discouraged and finding it hard to find faith. The urgency and expectation that marked the believers’ lives decades before had diminished. It is in this context that the gospel of Mark is written.

In this situation, it’s not enough just to recount the story of Jesus. As one of my favorite preachers and writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it, the authors of the first gospels had to “tell it to people who were frightened and tired of waiting—people who desperately wanted to know whether Jesus’ delay was part of the master plan or whether he was missing in action.” The answer they are given, not just in Mark, but included in Matthew and Luke as well, is this “little apocalypse.” In it, the people are assured that Jesus will indeed return with such power and glory that the very order of the cosmos will be disrupted—the sun and moon will be darkened; the stars will fall from the sky. Jesus will return, he promises, during the lifetime of his listeners. But, he adds, no one really knows when it will happen, not even Jesus himself. Only God knows, so don’t waste your time trying to calculate the day. And don’t get discouraged. Just pay attention every day, and be ready. Keep alert, stay awake, pay attention.

So in this context this apocalypse was not a story that brought about fear but instead hope--a hope that had been obscured by too much fear and too much time and well too much of everything. They thought the messiah would bring about an end to the war and violence that was being inflicted on the world. And instead that was not happening. They were still suffering and still being persecuted. And what Mark is saying is that this too will pass. So wake up. There is hope. This is a hopeful story. No need to lie down and die, never to wake up to living.
And that is what we have done isn't it? We have taken a story of hope and turned it into a story of loneliness, anger, despair, and fear. Think about it. The story of a baby born to bring good news to all people, has become a season that many of us dread. I mean not only is this often a season of real loneliness and depression for people, but it becomes for many a real chore. So many people say things like I can't wait for the holidays to be over. It is so hectic. We go from party to party. We have to get out the Christmas cards. We have to bake the cookies. We have to buy gifts. And in this time of economic crisis it is even more of a trial. All we have to do is look at the tragedy that happened at the Wal-mart store on Friday when an employee was trampled to death all so that the hordes of shoppers might get a deal on a plasma TV. We call the day after a day that we give great thanks as black Friday. The day that we point to as the official kick-off of the holiday season in the commercial world is seen as a day of chaos.
So it does seem appropriate that we turn to this "little apocalypse" as an introduction into this season. Because it invites us to reframe the story. To look not to despair and fear and chaos but instead to hope. It invites us to wipe away the cobwebs and the dirt from our windows. And look out not with anxiety but instead anticipation. With anticipation as I believe this woman is looking out the window in this painting.
But in order to look out the window we have to discover what it is that is blocking our view. What are the cobwebs? What is the dust? What are the smudges? What has turned our season of hope into a season of despair? Scott Cairns' has this great poem titled Advent: ("Advent," Compass of Affection, Scott Cairns.)

What is on your window? What is this one candle we lit illuminating for you? Let us take this moment, this day to wake up. To be alert. To notice. To notice what is lurking around our windows, our minds, our hearts. Amen.

A couple of things

First, I saw a screening of the new movie, "Milk," last night. It is about the first gay elected official Harvey Milk and his subsequent assassination. It stars Sean Penn as Harvey Milk. The movie is really good and Sean Penn is amazing. It is a great telling of one of gay histories biggest heroes. It is also amazing that to learn that we are still fighting the same arguments of hate that were being fought 30 years ago. Go see it when it comes to a theater near you.

Second, and completely unrelated, tonight I learned something new about my apartment. I learned that when the blinds are down in my apartment and the lamp beside the couch is on people on the street can see into the apartment. As I've probably said before in this blog I am naked or nearly naked in my apartment a lot. So this means that my neighbors and passer-byes have seen a lot more than they expected to see. Now I'm not that modest but I'm not an exhibitionist either so this leaves me with a bit of a dilemma. But I'm guessing I won't change my behavior because I think people would actually have to stand outside and stare in to see anything and if someone is doing that then they are trying to see in. So they deserve to see whatever they happen to see.

Do you think I've become the recurring Friends character ugly naked guy?

Coffee House Rambling

I have had a crappy week--in the sense that I have received a lot of crappy information. Information that isn't necessarily about me per se, but it is feeling hard for me not to worry about. And it just feels like this year, one thing after the next has happened to the people around me, either in my family of origin or my family of choice. And I'm tired. Tired of people being sick. Tired of people facing difficult financial futures. And in some cases I'm tired of struggling with how I am or am not able to help the situation. I don't want to nor in most cases can I come to the rescue, but I still feel like I'm taking on the weight of it. So my question is how do I put down the weight of the world that is not mine. I feel a little like May in The Secret Life of Bees. She loses her twin and then is unable to fully cope with the great suffering in the world. Now I don't think I'm completely where May is. I'm not going to put a big rock on my chest and lay down in the river behind my house. But I get it. I feel the weight of sorrows that aren't mine. Maybe I need my own wailing wall like May had. Some place to let go of what I'm trying to hold on to.

Jazz is playing over the speaker in the coffee shop right now. I think the saxophone is a sad instrument. And at this moment it somewhat reflect the melancholy I'm in.

I'm trying to think about worship on Sunday where I want to talk about gratitude. I'm quoting someone who said "Life is a gift; despair is presumptous." Boy is it hard for me to see life as a gift right now.

Nothing

Several times this week I have thought about things that I would blog about and then by the time I get home I've forgotten. So I really have nothing to talk about. I can tell you about some movies I've seen lately.

Quantum of Solace: It was fine. I really didn't like it all that much. I hadn't seen the one before this one and apparently it is a sequel. But I missed the gadgets from the old James Bond movies. Also I'm willing to suspend disbelief in movies and such. But there are a couple of times when I just said, "You want me to believe this?!?" And all I'll say so that I don't spoil anything is--big ol' rickety ass boat.

Role Models: Funny. Very funny! Crude and irreverant and totally predictable and hilarious! Not for the easily offended. Paul Rudd is so funny and so cute. I love Paul Rudd. He can move right in tomorrow. So if you know him let him know that I'm available.

Zack and Mirri Make a Porno: Also funny and crude and foul. Also, not for the easily offended. It is classic Kevin Smith movie-making. But also kind of sweet in the end. And when I say crude I mean crude. Jay of Jay and Silent Bob is in it as well as Randall from the Clerks movies. Excellent.

So I guess that is it. I'll blog again if I remember any of the random musings I thought of during the day.

Peace out!

Today's Sermon

I struggle with this story from the gospel lesson for today. It feels to me like I've witnessed a crime, a travesty of justice, an overreaction of the greatest degree. Third strike punishment for a first strike offense. So let's see if we have all of our facts straight.

A land owner, an apparently rich land owner, decides he is going to take a long trip. A really long, long trip--so long that it requires dividing up his assets so that they'll be protected while he is away. This apparently would not have been all that uncommon. So he is going on a trip and he summons three of his slaves to him. We don’t know if these are his only slaves or if they are merely his most trusted or his top three. But there are three. He divides up his assets this way. He gives the first slave 5 talents. He gives the second slave 2 talents and he gives the third slave one talent. (I'm guessing that many of us have heard this sermon preached as talent meaning any gift that we possess, such as playing the piano, singing ability, or the ability to beat Drextel Robinson in the 100 yard dash. Maybe that last one was just me. But no in this story Jesus means that the talents were actual money. A talent would have been roughly equivalent to 15 years wages. So 5 talents would have been equal to 75 years ways and 2 equal to 30 years wages. That is a lot of money! More money than any of the slaves would have ever seen before.) So he divides up the assets and he heads off.
After a while he returns and he calls the three slaves back together so that he can get back his money. The first slave, the one who had been given 5 talents, returned having doubled his 5 talents. That means the slave went down to the market place and bartered and traded until he had doubled his masters assets. Now remember this is a slave. This is someone who is uneducated dealing with sums of money that he has never seen before. This would be someone like my father, a blue collar worker. He dropped out of high school in the ninth grade. He finally got his GED when I was in grade school. But he was largely uneducated. This would be like him taking a million dollars and investing it in the stock market and doubling his money. The likelihood of this happening is not impossible but it is highly unlikely, highly unlikely. So essentially this slave got lucky. And he was rewarded for it. Likewise the second slave came to the master and he too had doubled his money. Again, he basically got lucky! Or let's not even diminish what the first two slaves did. Let's assume that they did not just get lucky, but they actually had some street smarts. They had watched the landowner do business and had learned a few things. But still the likelihood that they would actually double the money is pretty slim. But both the first and second slaves were rewarded. The master said to them "Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master." Now all in all up to this point in the story, I’m still with him. Doesn't necessarily seem all that fair but it at least seems satisfactory. No harm, no foul.
Then comes the third slave. This is the one who was given one talent. A lot of money, but not as much as the first two slaves. And I'll give you that this was probably not the smartest way to explain to the master his results. He basically says I know you are mean and hateful and I was really afraid of losing all your money so I didn't invest it. And he held out his hand and gave the master back the one talent he had been given, the one talent that was probably still covered somewhat in the dirt from the hole in which the slaved had buried it. That's right he buried it. Now I sort of understand this. There are people in the world who are risk takers--like the first two slaves. They are willing to roll the dice and take the chance that there work and investment will be rewarded. Then there are people like the third slave who are more cautious. People who know that playing the market is risky. The person who believes that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. At least you have the one talent. There is no chance that you are going to lose it. You will return the talent to the master exactly as he left it. So he wasn’t a risk taker, is that really such a crime? Well apparently to the master it is. Because this is what he says, "You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest." Then he says that the one talent should go to the first slave who had 10 talents and that the slave should be thrown out into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. This is the point where I say, "whoa." Come on, wicked and lazy? I'll give you maybe lazy, but wicked. It seems to me that he is protecting the master's assets. And should he really be cast out into the darkness--basically the master said, "you can go to hell."
Now if the parable is to speak to a great truth what is it? Is the master God? And I really wanted to use this sermon to talk about money, which is how it is often used. It is placed in November because this is when most churches are doing their stewardship campaigns. But the problem with that is that all throughout the Bible we have God siding with the poor and not the rich. This parable cannot possibly be about money, because if it is then what it is saying is that if you invest your money in God's kingdom then it will be returned to you two-fold. Isn't that the message many of you have heard before--I know I have. It's what folks who preach a gospel of prosperity say all the time. Just send in your 10 dollars or your 100 dollars or your 1000 dollars now and God will double it. My grandmother's church several years ago did this thing where they gave everyone one dollar and told them this was God's dollar and that they should take it away invest it and bring back the results at the end of the month. My grandmother used it to buy flour and eggs and baked cakes that people then bought. As I remember it my mother and sister were there too and they all three pooled their funds--my sister and mother becoming the salespeople. And their investment was fruitful.
Or if you are not paid back in money then it will be returned to you in other ways. So give your tithes to the church and it will be returned to you in generosity, love, etc. But all of this still points to the rich getting richer. It also suggests that only part of it belongs to God to begin with. That one dollar is God's dollar but all the other dollars you have those actually belong to you. I heard an author on the Daily Show this week talking about ways that we can address the energy crisis in the United States by decreasing our dependence on foreign oil. And you all have heard the suggestions, natural gas, electricity, and wind. And he actually said that we should reduce our dependence on foreign oil by using only these things that belong to us, our natural gas, our wind. Our wind? Can we really say that the wind belongs to us? That is about as ridiculous as saying our air space. Actually it is more ridiculous than saying our air space. In the end none of it belongs to us. It all belongs to God.
So that brings us back to this parable. What does it all mean? If it is not about how we invest God's money then what is it about? To which I'll say I don't know fully. But I can offer a suggestion. If we look at the gospel parable right after this and the gospel parable right before this then we might have a clue. The story right before this is about a bridegroom who comes looking for the bridesmaids and finds that only half of them are prepared. And the gospel parable after this is the familiar story of the separation of the sheep and the goats. You know the I was naked and you clothed me, hungry and you fed me, and so forth and so on. And right in the middle of this you have today's story, a story about extravagant generosity and incredible responsibility. The bridegroom can come at any moment--he may meet us as a prisoner, or as a hungry person, or as even the person sitting next to you and when he comes to you remember that you have been granted a generous portion or love or wealth or whatever it is that is being asked of you. And instead of burying and hoarding that love and wealth away, give it away. You'll still have enough left over, as a matter of fact you'll have more than enough left over. And in the end I think this for us is a little about money. Jim Wallace says that budgets are moral documents. They reflect our values and our beliefs. That is budget, both governmentally and locally and personally. How we spend our money reflects what we believe. Particularly as we enter a season that has been often seen as a time of gross over-consumption, what are we saying about what we are buying. How much we are spending? I realize that people are feeling a financial crisis these days. We saw this week that retail spending was down. So people are saying we are spending less, but are they thinking any more about what they are spending on. Or are they merely burying their talents in the ground because they are afraid of losing it all? As to the weeping and gnashing of teeth, into the darkness. I'd say we often cast ourselves out into the darkness. We chose to live in the place of fear. We choose to live in a place where we are so hardened that we can't love or be loved. It is our choice. Let us choose love. Let us choose generosity. Let us choose our neighbor. Let us choose one another. Let us choose God. Amen.

coffee shop musings

I'm sitting in my favorite coffee shop, Farley's. I call it my east office--It's east of my house and my church office. And in an effort to put off actually working I thought I'd blog just a bit.

(1) Despite the fact that I come in here frequently the cute "barista" (Is someone still a barista if it is not a Starbucks?) still does not recognize me. I just want to scream out when he asks, "It is always going to be a cup of Earl Grey for here!!!!"
(2) I asked also for a chocolate chip cookie--maybe he is confused by my inconsistent sweet order. But they were out of regular chocolate chip cookies. They just had vegan chocolate chips cookies. And I passed and instead chose a peanut butter cookie. Why? What did I think the vegan chocolate chip cookie was going to taste like? Did I think it was going to be so grossly inferior that I would prefer a cookie that I wouldn't initially have chosen over that one? I don't know. But I'm enjoying my animal based peanut butter cookie all the same.
(3) I heard on the radio on my way over that today the European Union lifted its ban on irregularly shaped fruits and vegetables. Apparently throughout the EU it was illegal to sell "nobbley carrots" in shops. I mention the carrots because over and over people interviewed said they really didn't mind nobbley carrots. But you know what this means, now not only do chickens have better rights than I do but so do nobbley carrots. I think I'm going home and make a pot pie made from chickens that are kept in tiny cages and perfectly shaped carrots. That'll show em.

Peace out!

some rambling

So as you all have noticed I haven't been writing much lately. I can't explain it. I loved blogging and I still sort of do. And I know you regular readers also enjoy reading my stuff. But I just haven't had much energy to sit down and write anything. So I'll not make any promises to do better. I will continue posting my sermons each Sunday. And I'll post as often as I have energy until I have the energy to do more.

I don't have a lot of energy today. I almost passed out at the end of my pilates/yoga class today. That has never happened before. I think I got too hot. It was really hot in there today. And then they tried to give me orange juice because they thought it was a low blood sugar thing--they thought this largely because my hands were shaking. But my hands shake a lot so I think it was unrelated but I was too out of it to explain to them about my little benign tremor, or as some of you say my parkinsons disease or my palsy. So I drank the orange juice. It was good orange juice--he clearly buys that fresh stuff not the Tropicana Pure Premium that I buy. But then when I was able to walk without thinking I was going to fall over I walked home, drank some water and took a nap. And then I have just been a little groggy all day. This afternoon I went to McDonald's and bought a Sweet Tea. It is my newest obsession. It's a little bit of home and it is sugar and cafeine and it is cold. I prefer a cold drink over a hot drink. But the problem with the McDonald's sweet tea is that it doesn't always taste quite right. Today it tasted a little like coffee grounds. Which doesn't make any sense, but it was a little gross. I never drink a whole cup so the rest of it is in the refrigerator--I think I'm hoping that the next time I drink some it wont taste like coffee grinds.

I also have been just dragging a bit the last week. I'm having some sinus/drainage issue. I wake up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth. I mean dry--lips stuck to my teeth. And I wake up every hour or so after that to drink water and put on chapstick. And then last week was an emotionally draining week with Barack Obama winning and then Proposition 8 being passed. So while I would have liked to celebrate the civil rights milestone for one group I was too overwhelmed by the pain of being denied one of my own civil rights. Hard week.

So all in all I'm just a bit out of sorts. And now I've shared it with all of you. Hope you are doing better.

Peace out!

Today's Sermon

Here we are once again reading the story of the Isrealites. We break it out every so often to remind us of from where we have come. It began with Joseph and a family feeling some responsibility to Pharaoh, a kind and generous leader. But eventually that kind and generous pharaoh died and was replaced by someone else, someone who didn't know Joseph. And then instead of feeling responsible to pharaoh they were slaves to pharaoh. And the work became harder and the treatment harsher, until the oppression was greater than any human should know. Pharaoh was ordering all male babies be killed. But there were nursemaids, Shiprah and Puah, who refused to kill the infants that they delivered. And there was a boy who lived, his mother in order to protect him floated him in a basket down the river in hopes that an Egyptian woman would find him and care for him. And that is what happened, but not just any woman, Pharaoh's daughter. And Pharaoh's daughter raised Moses as her own son, in the palace. Then when Moses grew up he heard God's call to lead the Israelites out of slavery. Despite plague after plague Pharaoh held out until one last plague that killed all the first born Egyptian males. And so the Israelites fled Egypt, but right on their back was the Egyptian army. When they made it to the red sea they feared that they would be slaughtered by the army. But instead the red sea opened up and they were able to cross to the other side and the Egyptian army was drowned by the returning of the sea. One would think that would be the end--the struggle would be over. But instead the struggle lasted a long time. The Israelites rebelled--they moaned and they groaned, they took more than they needed, and they worshipped other gods. And so what should have been a short trip to the Promised land became a forty year journey followed by another forty year journey. And only then did they make it to the promised land. But Moses and all those others who first left Egypt did not live to see this new land. Moses did get a glimpse, when he stood on the mountaintop but only a glimpse. There story was long but it moved toward promised land. This is their story but this is also our story.
And then this week we also relived another story. There was a group of people who lived peaceably on a continent called Africa. They lived there until one day a group of men came and put them on a boat. They arrived in a land that for many before them had been a place of refuge, a place of freedom, but for them would be a place of slavery and oppression. And for many years they worked on plantations, picking white people’s cotton, cleaning white people’s houses, and raising white people’s children. This practice of owning people, of treating people as second class was to last a long time, longer than the people who were owned ever imagined. It lead to a war, a battle that was waged between people of the same country, men from the north fought men from the south. Brother against brother. All over whether it was okay to own another human being, whether it was alright to treat one person as less than another person. But justice eventually won out and slaves were freed, these Africans would no longer be owned. That however was not the end. Instead the movement towards freedom would take longer. There would still be oppression, though citizens they weren't allowed to vote. Though citizens they would still be relegated to different lines, different water fountains, different places on the bus. It would take leaders to lead them closer to the promised land. It would take a woman who refused to sit at the back of the bus. It would take college students sitting down at a lunch counter. It would take a preacher from Georgia who had a dream. It would take acts of peace and love in the face of anger and hate. And even then he would utter these words: “I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go to the mountain. And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. It would be 40 years from when he uttered those words that we would reach a day where the dream was fulfilled that someone would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. This is their story. This is our story.
That same man who had a dream and who went to the mountaintop also talked about the moral arc of history bending at the elbow towards justice. It is long, the stories take longer than we would ever expect but they bend towards justice, they bend towards the promised land. Have those folks who traveled through the desert finally arrived in the promised land of peace? No. Have those folks who traveled across the ocean finally arrived in the promised land of freedom? No. But they are closer. We are closer. And yet this week we also landed smack dab in the middle of a story that feels more like Egypt and the plantation than like the other side of the red sea or the front of the bus. But it is the same story. It is still the story that is bending towards justice. It is still a story that begins with a people trapped in a closet. Trapped in darkened alleys of abuse and self hatred. There were a group of people who decided they were too tired to stay in the darkness any longer. People who stepped out of a bar called Stonewall and said we won't allow ourselves to be silenced anymore. A people who claimed their journey towards the promised land as well. It is a story that expands from gay ghetto to gay ghetto all over the country. It has its plague but it also has its heroes too. It is a story where a gay man could become a city supervisor--the first elected office for a gay person anywhere in the United States. But like Moses and Martin before him he would not live to see the promised land. Nor would any of those people who first left the walls of that Stonewall oppression. This is their story. This is our story.
And like those before us we are still being told to wait, told that we are not worthy of full equality. That we can't have the promised land yet. And this week we pushed back. We faced loss. In the journey towards the promised land we met resistance. And we are wondering if like the Israelites we've just been brought out here to die? Will we ever see the promised land? Are we merely the ones who left Egypt, who got freed from the plantation? Will we ever know true freedom? The grief is great, because we see hope after hope dieing. Del Martin did not see the promised land. Will Phyllis see the promised land? Will you or I see the promised land? Is there any hope or will this story's arc really bend toward justice?
To which I'll say Yes, there is hope. I'll say it loudly and again, "yes, there is hope." You say it with me, "yes there is hope" This story will lead to justice too. As Paul says we can grieve but not without hope. We have and continue to see signs of hope, signs of hope that are greater than any campaign sign.
Here is a story. My friend Mary Sue, straight mother of two, worked tirelessly in San Diego to defeat Proposition 8. She worked phone banks, She talked to press. She held signs. She spoke at inter-faith services. She did this because she knew that their story is our story. That as long as one person isn't free no one is free. She did this because whether or not she ever sees the promised land she hopes that her children and her grandchildren will.
She saw signs of hope on election day. She got up at 5 AM and went to stand on a street corner in the pouring rain--unusual for San Diego. She did this in hopes that she might sway someone's vote. But the distance they were from the polling station prevented them from really being seen by anyone. She was cold and she was wet and she was frustrated. And finally one couple drove by and spoke to them--they were opposed to proposition 8 as well and so they thanked Mary Sue and the people she was standing with. Then a little while later the couple returned with an umbrella and offered to go buy them coffee. Not because they had to but because they knew too that as long as one person is not free none of us are free.
We are living in a different country. A man who would have been forced to live in a plantation can now live in the White House. There are signs of hope all around us. Grieve, there is much loss in the world, but hope because there is much hope too.
We see signs of hope. We know that God's arc of history bends towards justice. We know that God walks with us, along side of us, in the midst of the celebrations and in the midst of the times of grief. So today we grieve but not as those without hope. And we grieve but we know that this is not just our story this is their story too. This is those drag queen’s story, this is Harvey's story, this is Del's story. When we do reach the promised land, they reach the promised land. Our hope is their hope.

This is my No on Prop 8 sign. But it is only a piece of paper. The words on it are only words, but they represent something great. They represented a hope we had for full equality. But we also know that there are still signs of hope, signs of God’s hope for a reconciled people, a people that are fully valued. What are your signs of hope. In this election season where did you see signs of hope? Was it an interaction with someone at work, someone at school, someone distributing fliers on the street? Take some time now and create a new sign of hope.

I kept my No on 8 sign in my window as a reminder for those who passed by. Take this sign with you for times when you need to be reminded of the hope that is still available in our world. Their hope. Our hope. Amen.

In Memoriam: Today's Sermon

I always liken the sermon for today to the segment of every awards show that I refer to as "Oh that guy died." It is the in memoriam section and it usually includes a picture and thir name and usually their contribution to the entertainment industry. This is the day in the life of the church when we have our own in memoriam tribute. We celebrate and remember all those who have gone before us. In the Catholic church it is a specific person who is named a saint and there are various requirements for someone's canonization. However, in the protestant church we have a different view of what makes someone a saint. A saint is anyone and everyone who has gone before us, who has represented a Christian life in all its joy and its sadness, celebration and failure, death and resurrection.
And normally I use this sermon to shine a light on famous people who have died this past year. And that has included Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King, Brother Roger of Taize, and Pope John Paul. Pretty easy for us to sing their praise and remember their merits. This year the list includes Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes, William F. Buckley and George Carlin. People to whom I'm sure their family loved and miss deeply; however, not necessarily the easiest people to draw from for my purpose in this sermon. Since the last time we observed All Saints Day Ike Turner also died. Ike Turner. You know the one who beat Tina Turner. One of the websites that I check for people who died each year summed him up this way, "Wasted a potentially great career." Can you imagine your entire life being reduced down to spouse abuser and a waste? He, as many others this year did, died of a drug overdose. Over and over I read about people who died of an overdose, accidental or otherwise. Christopher Bowman, Brad Renfroe, Heath Ledger known less for how they lived and more for how they died.
But there are a few notable exceptions. Evel Knievel died the end of last year, but since the last All Saints Day. He was definitely someone who lived life fully--granted he also lived life somewhat stupidly, but he was full of adventure. He is someone who will be remembered for the life they lived. Sir Edmund Hillary , the first person to reach the top of Mt. Everest, died this year. Now why anyone in the world would ever want to do this is beyond me but he did. He saw the challenge and accepted it. Proving that the mind and the body and the will are powerful things. Many of life's challenges can be overcome with will power. Most of us will never attempt to jump over the Grand Canyon or climb Mount Everest but we can challenge ourselves to get out and live life.
Paul Newman also died this year. A quote from Newman is on the cover of the bulletin this morning. He willed be remembered as an actor, as an icon of the film industry. But when you ask people in their 20s and younger who he is they really only know him as the voice of a race car in Cars and that guy whose face was on the salad dressing bottles. The day he died I was in performances for the opera I did this fall and as I was getting dressed I said to folks in the dressing room "Paul Newman died." And someone who is in their 20s said "Oh I loved that song he wrote for Toy Story." I said "not Randy Newman, Paul Newman!!!" But I and many others will remember Paul Newman for something else other than acting and salad dressing. He was a great philanthropist. All the profits from the food company went to charities that he supported. He was quoted as saying that the happiest day of the year for him was when he got to write a big fat check. He did what he was passionate about and then he gave in appreciation of a life well lived. He lived out of these verses from what we refer to as the beatitudes. He knew that we were called to care for the poor and the meek, to be peacemakers, those who seek justice. But for some of us this year was about losses that were more personal. Both Cecil and Michael's mothers died this year. And my brother died. And I just want to tell one little story about my brother. It is one that I have held onto for a long time. We were young, probable 10 or 11 and we had gone on a trip with our church Sunday school class to some semi-amusement park. I say semi-amusement because it was some old west reenactment kind of place. Anyway at the end of the day we were gathered together and the chaperone said that my brother had asked if he could use some of his money to buy us all a piece of candy. I hope that my life lives up to that example.
Today we remember the ones whose shoulders we are standing on. Those who have taught us by their example how to be better Christians and how to be better brothers and sisters to one another. They are the stepping stones that point us on our journey towards each other and towards God. May we live up to their examples. Amen.