I just retuned home from the final of five memoral events sponsored by Urban Dolorosa. These events took place over five nights at various churches through out the city of Chicago. The purpose of these events was to memorialized the deaths of the 260+ children murdered on our streets over the last three school years. The lives of these saints are ignored by much of the city.

Part of the service included reading the names of these beautiful saints. These children were named. Their existence was recognized and their deaths remembered. They were not the soundbytes we get from the ten o’clock news. No. They were given the dignity life on this earth rarely – if ever – afforded them. We were confronted with the witness of the saints. Parents and children built an altar of rememberance. Faces were displayed – notes were left -hearts were broken open again. They city has for too long been silent about the deaths of our future, but tonight and the previous nights she has let out a groan of lament. A sigh too deep for words. Maybe the city can begin to hear.

This evening as the names were being read, I began thinking about the story of Rizpah from the Hebrew Scriptures. Her story is found at the end of 2 Samuel, chapter 21. Rizpah was a wife of Saul. Many English translations say concubine, but it is more accurate to say she was a secondary wife. Many years after Saul’s death the Gibeonites approach King David seeking recompense for their peoples’ blood spilt by Saul – the are seeking to asuage his blood guilt. David asks what they need to happen and they demand the blood of seven of Saul’s sons. David agrees to their demands and hands over the five sons of Merab – these are acutally Saul’s grandsons, and the two sons of Rizpah. These seven boys are impaled and left for dead. But Rizpah lays sackcloth at the feet of the murdered children and makes her dwelling place at their feet. You see, they slaughtered innocents were left to become food for the feral animals of the land to scavange, but Rizpah could not allow that. She stayed at their feet beating away the beasts that sought to scavange they bodies. Night and day. Day and night. Rizpah never left the feet of the children. They were killed as the first of the harvest began – the sun of spring. It was when the rains of autumn began to fall that King David heard of what Rizpah was doing. He was so moved that he had their remains removed and, along with the remains of Saul and Jonathan, buried. Because of a mother’s steadfast love – the king allowed the boys to finally rest in peace.

Rabbi Jonathan Magonet says this of Rizpah: She is “every mother who sees her sons die before their time for reasons of state, be they in time of peace or in war. All that remains is for her to preserve the dignity of their memory and live on to bear witness and call to account the rulers of the world (Magonet Bible Lives 1992, 11).” Tonight we gathered with the mothers at the feet of their children. We sang the words above as we walked through Hyde Park. We stopped at Ray School singing, as a pledge, that we are with the children that study within her walls. We will beat away the beasts that seek to consume. We will stand vigil day and night until there is no longer a need. No longer a need to stand a the feet of our the children who deserve to enjoy a life of love and hapiness. No longer a need to stand at the foot of another coffin of a saint gone before their time. We stood tonight – tears in our eyes and fire in our souls – to remember and give name. We stood tonight at part of a Sorrowing City. An Urban Dolorosa committed to weep until weeping is no longer needed. Like Rizpah we stand with our children.

For the Love of God

(Scene 1: The Pharisees act to protect)
We have all heard it before; from parents, from children, from brothers or sisters, from bosses, from our spouses or partners. “For the love of God – pick up your room.” “For the love of God – stop stealing by baseball cards.” “For the love of God – Why did you cut off my Barbie’s hair?” “For the love of God – get me that report.” “For the love of God – turn off the tv and help with the dishes.” The love of God seem seems to be a powerful instigator. Or am I hearing it wrong?

The pharisees in today’s text also were appealing to the Divine Name. “For the love of God – he just shut up the Saducees when he told them there is an afterlife.” “For the love of God – did he actually say to give God what is God’s? Doesn’t he know what saying that will do to our reputation – to the reputation of our people? They tolerate us now, but not for long if he keeps saying stuff like that. For the love of God – we have to shut him up. He is dangerous. He is stirring the people. Maybe there can be a way we can trap him.” So the pharisees huddled up. There on the steps outside the temple.

People in the near by market had stopped to see this battle of wits. They witnessed Jesus take on these leaders with out breaking a sweat. In fact, as the pharisees were gathered at the top of the steps – Jesus and his disciples were sitting, rather, lounging on the bottom steps. One of the little children that followed him around was seated in front of him in the dirt. Jesus turned his head – looking up the stairs; eyes squinting in the noon day sun. Looking at the shilloutte of the pharisees. He paused like he was listening, then he just shrugged and turned back to the boy. The boy had just put a line through three Xs. Jesus’ Os did not stand a chance. Bartholomew just started laughing, “Haaa Haaa, Jesus, You just got beat by a boy” – poor Bartholomew, he always was the master of the obvious. And soon a chain reaction of laughter started – Jesus and the boy began to laugh, then Mary Magedelene and the rest of those around. This noise stunned the pharisees – “For the love of God – what is going on down there…Let’s go.” They scurried down the steps.

“Jesus.” The laughter was still going – Peter and the boys had begun to pantomime – well more interpretive dance – the event that had just transpired. The pharisee cleared his voice, “mmmmhummm. Jesus.”

Tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, he turned, “Yeah?”

“Jesus – if you could be serious for a minute. For the love of God demands we follow the commandments. Which one is the greatest.”

Jesus looked at him – “seriously” he thought, “this guy is supposed to be a religious leader and he is asking this?” Jesus replied like a teacher talking to a troubled child, “Love. The. Lord. Your God with all your heart. All your soul. AND all your mind. This, friend, is the first and greatest of all the commandments.”

“Whew” thought the pharisee who asked the question. Finallly they agree on something – maybe he isn’t as nuts as we though. But then, Jesus had to open his mouth again.

“But a second one is like it. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two hang all the laws and the prophets.”
REEEEEE. Put on the brakes. “What do you mean by that?” Thought the pharisees. “That is not the answer we want to hear. For the love of God – this man has got to go.” They ran back up the steps of the temple. But Jesus turned to them, “Hey! What do you think of the Messiah? Whose son is he?”

The pharisees froze. “What?” They thought. “Uhhh. The son of David (which translated properly is … what are you talking about…ummm..we have to say something, and we can’t say God, becuause that is just wrong – and it is something the kids would answer in schul.”)

Jesus sat back down on his step – the one he claimed when he was a boy, and said to them, “How is it then that David by the Sprit calls him Lord? Doesn’t he say in the 110th Psalm, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet?’ If David calls him – the anointed, the messiah – Lord, how can he be his son?”

The pharisees looked at him. Looked at the 12 and the children and women with him, and then looked and saw everyone in the market place staring at them. They turned and ran into the temple.

“They-aaa don’ont kno-ow,” taunted master of the obvious, Bartholomew and the circle of laughter began again. Jesus watched them run. He knew what was happening, but after a beat he turned and joined the laughter.

(Scene 2: Next on Hoarders)
Who has heard of this little thing going on called occupy wall street? Or, Occupy Chicago where 130 were arrested last night at Grant Park? Who has seen the news clips of the protesters responses when asked what they are protesting? It seems like they are like the Pharisees at the end of the text. Not quite sure what to say – or at least not saying it in a coherent way. “We are protesting the corporate oligarchy.” “We are protesting the mortgage bankers.” “We are protesting unfair tax codes.” “We are the 99%.” So many voices and so many noises that it is unclear what the message is. But, have you really stopped to hear what they are saying? To listen to their stories? Have you been able to break trough the barrier the media has set up between the message and the people?

If you do that, you hear the story of a woman who lived in her house for years, but after a refinancing put her underwater – where she owes more than it is worth – she got foreclosed upon. You hear the story of man – 53 years old – who got laid off after the first round of the recession in 2008 and has yet to find work because he is too old – too close to retirement. You hear the story of a student who will have to become a wage slave because the only way for her to get through college – a prestigious one at that – is through student loans. You look at the crowds and you see your neighbor. You see people who are not out there to cause trouble – you see the faces of the United States. You see faces of the American Dream – you hear the stories of the American Nightmare.

You hear stories of how corporations who took – were given forgiveness of their debts by the landowner, and yet when they came across someone who owed them money they took her house away; they said you are too old to work for us – we can make bigger profits without you; you will be beholden to us because you want to live the American Dream and finish college. For the love of Mammon, people, you are nothing but cogs in the machine. You are nothing other than another human sacrifice to our god; it is better you than us.

These are the stories going on if you dare to listen. But what happens so often with us is that we get cut off from our neighbors. We loose touch with the stories of those around us. We like to think we love our neighbor as ourselves, but do we even know our neighbor’s name?

The pharisees knew Jesus was saying more than love the person next to you. When he said to them, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” He was telling them the ethic by which they should live out the Great Commandment. When he said “love your neighbor as yourself” their minds – being scholars of the law went to Leviticus 19:

When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest.
You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the LORD your God.
You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; and you shall not lie to one another.
And you shall not swear falsely by my name, profaning the name of your God: I am the LORD.
You shall not defraud your neighbor; you shall not steal; and you shall not keep for yourself the wages of a laborer until morning.
You shall not revile the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind; you shall fear your God: I am the LORD.
You shall not render an unjust judgment; you shall not be partial to the poor or defer to the great: with justice you shall judge your neighbor.
You shall not go around as a slanderer among your people, and you shall not profit by the blood of your neighbor: I am the LORD.
You shall not hate in your heart anyone of your kin; you shall reprove your neighbor, or you will incur guilt yourself.
You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

The pharisees knew that loving your neighbor meant making sure they could eat. The knew that loving your neighbor meant not elevating the landowner above the laborer – all are equal in God’s justice. You were to love your neighbor because God freed you from Egypt’s bondage. Your covenant with God is to treat all with equity. The pharisees were trying to hoard God from the people. They money changers in the temple were trying to hoard grace from the people. The corporations – people in the eyes of the law – are hoarding profits instead of distributing wealth to create new jobs. The media is hoarding access in order to control the story. You and I are hoarding on to what we have in order to just survive. We grab the gleanings from the field or the grapes from the ground – they become ours. We become idolaters of the very things that keep us captive. We get so focused on surviving that we forget our neighbor – stuck in the mud, unable to even make it into the vineyard. We do not see them packing their car with the few belongings they can take with them. We are just trying to get by.

(Scene 3: For God so Loved)
It is his reaction to all the chaos of his time that makes Jesus’ message so threatening to the powers that be. He was not just turning over tables in the temple, but he was turning over the people. He was causing an unrest that threatened to upset the status quo. How can people tolerate the oppression of Rome and the misleading of the temple hierarchy if they truly loved God with all their hearts, all their souls and all their minds? If they followed his ethic of loving your neighbor as self, how could they not touch the untouchable, show women equity, be led by children? Jesus’ message was shaking the bedrock of their very society. God’s message was shaking the bedrock of God’s very creation. It is through Jesus that God began to shape what is to come. It is through Jesus – the son – that God’s rule touched this world and showed us what it means to be loving of ones’ neighbor.

We see it in Jesus sitting at the temple step playing tic-tac-toe with a boy. We see it when Jesus confronts a Legion and expels them from a man – freeing him from the oppression that for so bound him. We see it when Jesus goes to the room of a little girl and says wake up. We see it when Jesus calms a stormy sea. We see it when Jesus takes a couple of loaves and fishes and makes sure no one goes home hungry. We see it when Jesus, knocking the dirt off his shoulder, tells a paralytic to get up. We see it when Jesus tells a woman her faith has made her well. We see it when Jesus runs into a widow of Nain and tells her her son is not dead but alive. We see it when Jesus runs to hug is friend Lazarus. We see it when Jesus take bread and wine and offers them as his body and blood. We see it when Jesus willingly took upon himself a cross. We see it when Jesus said from that cross, “forgive them; they know not what they do.” We see it when Jesus breathed his last and the veil in the temple was torn; bringing God’s full glory in to the world. We see it in Jesus’ lifeless body – hanging on the cross broken and bloodied – having given his life for his neighbor. Having died saying this is what it means to love your neighbor. For the love of God is so great that God gave God’s only son – so that we might know life abundantly -that we might have eternal life.

(Scene 4: For the Love OF God)
Jesus’ love for neighbor, though did not end in that broken and battered body. No, God’s upsetting of the status quo goes beyond the grave. It explodes forth from the grave. God’s love is not bound by anything we try to put in its way. The band Side Walk Prophets put is this way:

I am the thorn in Your crown

But You love me anyway

I am the sweat from Your brow

But You love me anyway

I am the nail in Your wrist

But You love me anyway

I am Judas’ kiss

But You love me anyway

See now, I am the man that called out from the crowd
For Your blood to be spilled on this earth shaking ground
Yes then, I turned away with this smile on my face
With this sin in my heart tried to bury Your grace
And then alone in the night, I still called out for You
So ashamed of my life, my life, my life
But You love me anyway
Oh, God… how you love me

For the love of God is so great that the scales can be peeled back from our eyes, and we can come to recognize our neighbors. For the love of God is so great that we have a hand to help us through our darkest hours. We we are so torn up inside that we can not name our weakens – the love of God is there. When our stories have been edited into 20 second sound bytes – God knows the rest of the story.

Sisters and brothers, the greatest and first commandment is to love the Lord our God with our whole being, and we do that by following the second command – to love our neighbor as our selves. We have been given much by the grace of God – though sometimes the only security we fee we have is to hoard our gifts – God has freed us to love our neighbor. God has given us more than enough. Our gifts go to feeding the homeless; providing space for those in recover; giving room for kids to play soccer – to loving our neighbors. Friends, we have a legacy in this church – we are a place where all can come and be recognized for who they are. As children of God.

For the love of God we stand at this corner. For the love of God we proclaim a message of grace and forgiveness. For the love of God we hear each others stories. For the love of God we offer our gifts each year. For the love of God we pray the Holy Spirit keep moving in our midsts; so that we can be a witness to the world that this is what it looks like when you know who the Messiah is and what happens when you embrace the radical table turning love of God.

For the love of God – our hearts break as we stand in solidarity with our neighbor. Our hearts break so that we can be filled – daily, no, constantly – with the love of God. For the love of God.

God in the (Un)Expected

(Scene 1: The People Expect God)
“Come, children, listen to the story of our father Abraham and his many children.” The teacher always began his stories with this saying. He would gather all the children around the fire – after supper. Their bellies full. The stars flickering in the sky. The children enjoyed the stories. The liked hearing how Father Abraham went where Adonai sent him. How Adonai promised him a son and Isaac came along. They loved hearing about how Joseph got beat up and then became the ruler of Egypt. They liked how Moses split the sea and Joshua led the priests around Jericho and how on the seventh day they blew the shofars and the walls came down. They liked hearing about how Naomi took in Ruth and they became the grand mother and great-grandmother of the great King. There were the stores of action and adventure with King Saul being spared by the boy David and how David rose to be their great King.

There were stories, though, about how after David things started to change for their people. There was a split between Israel and Judah. They heard how Solomon’s son, Rehoboam, refused to treat the people of the north with a fair hand, and how the people of the north rebelled. The once might land had been split. No longer the kingdom of Israel, but the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. They heard how evil house of Omri took over Israel – Ahab and Jezebel. They brought evil to the children of Abraham. The teacher told them about how Uzziah was a great king, but how his pride brought shame upon the house of David. He dared enter the temple of the LORD and burn incense – only priests could do that. Around the fire heard how the Assyrians had destroyed the kingdom of Israel. They, too, were told of how for a time they – the children of Judah – were saved by King Manasseh’s alliance with Assyria; however Adonai did not approve because the king allowed other gods to be placed in the temple. They heard about how King Josiah brought reforms to the worship of Adonai. How he found the book of the law and said all worship must happen in Jerusalem. How, though, he did not heed Adonai’s warnings and met the Egyptian pharaoh. How he was killed in battle, and how his death began the swift downfall of Judah.

They heard about how eleven years after his death their grandparents were brought here – to the land of Babylon. They heard how Nebuchadnezzar destroyed their grandparents’ homes. About how he destroyed the temple of Adonai. Here they were – gathered around the fire. Exiles. Refugees. Children of a forgotten land. There were some who tried to keep the stories of the land of their parents alive – those like the teacher who would gather them around the fire to tell the stories. But more often than not, stories were being forgotten. Adonai had abandoned the people. They were now under the hand of the Babylonian gods Marduk and Ishtar. The one true God could not be found – other in the stories the teacher told. Stories that told of how – when evil came to their land – Adonai let them be taken captive; rather than let them keep their kingdom. No wonder they preferred to ignore their God.

But, this night, as the fire began to burn out. Shadows growing longer as the jumping flames gave way to glowing embers. The teacher began to tell a new story. A story of a messiah named Cyrus. The story of a great king who would let the children of Judah return to their land. They are told how Adonai will let Cyrus destroy nations. How Adonai will prepare the way for Cyrus, and how he will receive great treasures. They are told how, though Cyrus doesn’t know Adonai, Adonai will do these things. Adonai has anointed him to free Adonai’s children and let them return to Judah.

As the children rush to their tents with the excitement of this news; their parents begin to plot against the teacher. How can Adonai allow a non-Hebrew to free the people – the chosen people? They mock the old teacher as touched in the head. His mind is going in his old age. They say that Adonai has chosen them; therefor it is expect that their messiah should come from their midst. Their God is to do what the expect God to do. If Adonai wants us to be free; we must do it – that is what is expected.

(Scene 2: Doing What is Expected)
The Hebrew people had a right to be skeptical about a foreign king being anointed by God to free them from their captivity in Babylon. Though, if you read the prophets and the books of Samuel and Kings, you see that they were in captivity because of the sins of their leaders; they were being held captive none the less. They were hostage to a foreign leader who denied them the basic rights to worship their God in their homeland. Why would another foreign leader be any different.

The news these past couple of weeks has been all about people being held captive. I have seen story after story about people being forced from their homes because their mortgages have gone underwater – they owe more on the house than what it is worth, and the banks are not working with them to restructure payments. I have heard stories about men and women, who some chastise as being lazy and ineffectual, who have been out of work since 2008 and have given up hope at finding something. I hear stories about companies that make record profits and yet refuse to use that money to expand their companies; instead they expand the billfolds and purses of those who can afford to hold stock in them.

People are being held captive by forces that are sucking away their very humanity. In the struggle to be heard – voices are raising in anger and hatred. Both sides are starting to paint the other as the evil oligarch or the lazy good for nothing. The systems in place are keeping people captive, and blinding us to the realization that on both sides of the fight there are human beings. Not only are people being held captive by debt and foreclosure and joblessness; people are being held captive a sense of powerlessness that forces them to exert what power they have over others. People are being held captive to a fear of loss that they fill their storehouses for that day when they will need it. People are being held captive by the need to win at all costs that they forget they could just as easily be the one on the curb.

The news is not good. We have a Tea Party movement that says that all of our ills can be solved by cutting budgets; especially in services that help the most vulnerable. We have an #occupy movement that is filled with so much grief and is bound on so many sides it is having a hard time articulating what its needs are. There are a myriad of voices all calling out for Adonai to do something – for we are being held captive. Like the Hebrews in Babylon – we cry out. We are doing what we can to survive. We are doing what is expected. We fight. We scrap. We take stands. We forget God. We do what is expected. WE do what is expected.

(Scene 3: God in the Unexpected)
What we forget, though, in our angst and anger. What the Hebrew people forgot in their exile. Is that in the end God is the one in control. They did not have the military might to defeat Babylon. They were an occupied and exiled people. God was working on their behalf, though.

God called and anointed Cyrus, the king of Persia, to bring them release. God chose an unexpected ally. God chose someone who did not even know the God of Israel existed, and yet Cyrus was named by that God – surnamed even; brought into the family. God promises Cyrus riches and land; victory and power. This could not have pleased the people. How could our God side with someone who worships another god?

God works in the unexpected though. God chose a liberator who would release the Hebrews and allow them to return to Judah and Jerusalem. God knew Cyrus would release them in a bloodless way. God knew this leader would want God’s people to rebuild the temple. God works in the unexpected. Though Cyrus did not know Adonai; God worked through him.

Within 18 years of their release the foundation was laid for the second temple. A restoration of God’s chosen people to God’s chosen land. The temple once again became the center of the Hebrew world. This is the temple that saw the people through the sacrilege of Antiochus IV – when he placed a statue of Zeus in the Holy of Holys. This is the temple that was restored under Harrod. This is the temple that a young Jesus sat at the feet of rabbis and listened and discussed. This is the temple that say the rage of that boy grown into a man when he heard about the unfair treatment of the poor going on in it. This is the temple that had its veil torn with that man died upon a cross – an enemy of the state.

God worked in an unexpected way when God chose to use Cyrus to release God’s people.The children around the campfire were used to hearing how God worked in the unexpected: the knew how the bound boy Isaac would become the father of Israel; they knew how the youngest son of Jacob became the saviour to his family; they knew how a murderer was reformed and turned into the leader of released slaves; they knew how a prostitute insured safe passage and helped prepare for the take over of Jericho; they knew how the youngest of Jesse’s sons would become the king who would unify the land. So it was not surprise to learn that God was once again using unexpected means to save them.

(Scene 4: God working in the (Un)expected)
We have seen how God works in the unexpected. We are here today because of the unexpected child – born of a teenaged girl and her fiancee. We have seen how God works in the unexpected with that baby growing into a preacher and teacher – totally unexpected from a hick carpenter from a Podunk town. We have seen the unexpected in that man who calmed the seas and fed the 5,000. We have seen the unexpected in when that man took upon his shoulders the weight of the world – dying for living as God expects. We are witnesses to the unexpected when Jesus left the grave that Sunday morning. We are part of the unexpected in a church that has survived torture; persecution; resistance. God works in the unexpected.

Through working in the unexpected God has freed us to work as God expects in unexpected ways. Because Jesus took on the cross; we, too, are expected to. Because Jesus rose from the grave we have the power to change what is expected; God freed us.

God worked in an unexpected monk, and he gave the world an example of peace. God worked in yet another monk, and unexpectedly revitalized the church. God worked in a refugee pastor who began a movement of freedom of which we are the legacy. God worked in a short kid from Atlanta, and gained freedom for an oppressed people. God is working in a woman raised in the red-light district of Norfolk, VA in the 1940s; a woman who leaned about the oppressed and followed Jesus to South Africa and was instrumental in the release of an imprisoned leader – Nelson Mandela. God is working in the unexpected place of protest; where many are gathered there is Jesus – found in the unexpected form of protest chaplains. People who have felt God calling them to the unexpected.

Friends; God is working in the unexpected places with unexpected people. We are not alone as we gather to change expectations. We can expect God to work in Unexpected ways.

Audio:

Text:
In the Line

(Scene 1: In the Night)

The sun was setting behind the mountains. The shadows on the ground were growing as the light began to fade. The cloud in front of the child began to glow – like fire – as it had every night of her young life. She always went to the edge of the camp to watch the transformation. She would stand there in awe. Hands outstretched – palms out. She would closer her eyes and feel the wind that always accompanied the change blow through her hair. A smile would come to her face as she stood in the midst of the transformation. She could stand in that place or transformation forever. It was so peaceful.

Her bliss, though, was interrupted by her little brother running up to her – tugging on her sleeve, “Rachel, Rachel, the sun has set. Sabbath is over. Momma has food ready.” “I’ll be there in minute, Yishi.” Yishi ran back to the place their family has settled for the time being.There was a campfire going. The landscape was dotted with these orange beads. Families all around had begun to break the Sabbath prohibition of work as they began to prepare the quail that never seemed to run out. The sweet bread of morning had satiated Yishi for most of the day, but now – as the darkness was growing- and the smell of roasting quail began to fill the air, Yishi realized how hungry he was. Running up to his mother, he began to prance around her, “Eemaa, how much longer? I am starving.”

“Yishi, my boy, relax. It will be ready soon. Where is your sister?”

“At the cloud – again.”

“Go get her.”

“I did. But she didn’t want to come. She said she would be here in a minute.”

Just then, Rachel arrived at the campsite. “I am sorry, eemaa. There is just something about watching the could change that…well, I don’t know…I can’t move as it happens. It is like I hear a voice calling out to me to stay. Sh’ma Rachel. Listen to the story. I don’t know what it means. But I stand there waiting. Waiting to hear something.”

“Uhh…Rachel. Get your head out of the could and help eemaa. I am starving.”

Yishi’s 7 year old impatience snapped her out of her vision, and she gathered the plates from the cart that carried their belongings. Everything was so old. Eemaa said that when here eemaa and avi left Egypt – where ever that was – they had to do it in a hurry, and they just grabbed things that were solid and would not break. Rachel began to set places around the campfire. Avi, eemaa, Yishi, and herself. She laid out the blankest they sat on around the fire. Plates arranged in a semi-circle…all facing the fire. Her spot was on the end, opposite her father – but closest to the cloud. Often as the family ate, she would turn around and just stare at the cloud. Countless times she had asked her parents about it. She was 12 and it had been around as long as she had. The would never answer her satisfactorily, though. It was as if they had forgotten something.

She had finished setting places when her mother told her to set two more places. They were having guests at their camp tonight. Moshe and Zipporah were coming over. Rachel began to sweat. Moshe was the leader of her people, but she had never met him. There were thousands of people around, and she was just a little girl. “Eemaa, why is Moshe come to eat with us?”

“He wants to talk to you.”

Rachel began to panic. “What did I do?” Her mind was racing, but she couldn’t think of anything. Surely it couldn’t be about when she picked some flowers on the Sabbath. They were beginning to die, so she dug them out at the roots and put them in a bowl so she could take care of them. Did she really do something that bad? She didn’t think that that was work. “Momma, why does he want to talk to me?” She asked with a quiver in her voice.

“I don’t know. But he saw your avi this morning and said he would like to talk with you.”

Rachel didn’t know what to do. She set the two more places and then retreated to their tent. She sat down outside the tent. Leaning against one of the support posts. She stared at the could and as she did – tears came to her eyes. She talked to the cloud like she would do when she was feeling afraid or when she had something to say her parents would not understand. “Did I do something wrong? Why is Moshe coming to talk to me?” Then as clear as anything she heard it again, “Sh’ma Rachel. Give ear, Rachel. Listen.”

“To what? Why won’t you tell me?” There was nothing more. She sat in silence. Tears coming down her face. Staring at the cloud. It was as though time had stopped. She looked at the other families wondering if Moshe came and talked to their kids. Then hand on her shoulder and the familiar voice – the one she had heard many times speaking to the assembly, but this time there wasn’t power in the voice – volume, but compassion, “Rachel bat Elohim. Daughter of God.” She jumped. Startled she began to get up, but Moshe leaning on his walking staff made his way to the ground next to her.

“Staring at the could again, I see.”

“Ummm…yes rabbi.”

“I, too, often watch the cloud. Sometimes for hours, Aaron and Yeshua get concerned. They think I am neglecting my duties. They thing I am loosing my mind. Especially when I tell them it is talking to me.”

“It talks to you?”

“Oh yes, my child. It has spoken to me many times.”

“I hear it, too. It keeps telling me to listen. But then it doesn’t say anything else. It doesn’t tell me who to listen to. I don’t know. I think I may be loosing my mind.”

“Daughter, you are not loosing your mind. What you are hearing is the voice of Ha Shem. You are hearing the voice of the God who led us out of Egypt. Do you know that story?”

“Yes, we tell it every year at Pesach.”

“So you know how the LORD our God led us from the hand of Pharaoh.”

“Yes, but eemaa and avi say that it is just a story. They don’t remember a place called Egypt. They say that is a story we tell in order to keep us tied to our ancestors. They are old – in their 30’s – they say they have been wandering this desert as long as they have been alive.”

“I can tell you, Rachel, we were delivered. I was there. They have forgotten the story. Open your ears child, for Ha Shem, the LORD our God wants you to hear the stories of how our God is always with us. God has done great things for us. God split the sea in two so we could flee. God gives us quail and manna. God opens the rock to give us water. Sweet child, God is in front of us day and night. God is in the cloud. Open your ears to the stories. Open your heart to their truth. Sh’ma Rachel. Sh’ma.”

Tears again appeared on Rachel’s cheeks. This time though, the fear has transformed into joy. She looked at Moshe. Grabbed him and pulled her head to his chest. Looking up at him with tears in her eyes she said, “I hear.” He embraced her and held her. Rocking her gently – the cloud watching over them.

(Scene 2: In the Dark)

We are the inheritors of stories. We get them from our parents. From our culture. From friends, family, and of course t.v. and the internet. Stories have the power to transform and change us. They have the ability to bring new light to stagnant situations. Stories are what make us human. We are gifted with the ability to remember and to share. To communicate. To tell stories of how things are made or how things can hurt us. We hear stories and they become a part of us.

But sometimes, thought, the pages become dusty and we can’t quite see the story. Things get in the way of the stories.

I always am curious about the stories of places I walk or drive by. When I was working in the Bronzeville neighborhood last summer, I would ride my bike up Cottage Grove and see all of the small shops, barber shops, and boarded up windows. I wanted to hear the stories about all those places. Some once were places of vibrancy that carried on the story of this former jazz center of the city, but there were abandoned buildings that told another story. A story all to familiar in cities and suburbs around the county. Some of these boarded up windows belonged to shuttered businesses. Forced to close due to the economic condition. As these stores would close, people would move out of the neighborhood seeking new places to work. As they left – their apartments would remain empty until the landlord was forced to sell to a new developer – and they gut the affordable apartments and turn them into luxury condos. New residents would move in, bringing with them the stories they heard about how dangerous the south side of Chicago is – so they would take their business to the “safer” south loop. The new people coming in could not read the story of how Bronzeville was once one of the most important neighborhoods in the city. Instead they heard stories that scared them.

New stories are being written in which the new narrative lacks the promise and back story of the neighborhood. And the kids I worked with were caught up in this new story telling them they were not part of the future. That they would be stuck in their projects. That if they wanted to be part of the story it would be as another victim. The new story removed any hope. Like Rachel’s parents – wandering lost for years, the stories of the past history of Bronzeville just become a place of fairy tales.

Stories are not just forgotten in Bronzeville. No, we forget them, too. When we are caught in the distractions of keeping our kids busy, so they can keep up with the Jones’, or when we keep at work for 60 hours a week because we need to keep food on the table, or when we are just caught in a cycle of hopelessness and uncertainty. We forget our stories. Blinded by the all to real situations going on around. We are just trying to get by. We are more concerned with just getting out of the desert and into the promised land that we hear the stories, but we don’t listen. We don’t remember.

We forget the stories of how God is working with us. In us. Through us. We are lost in the dark. Forgetting that we are part of the story.

(Scene 3: In the Light)

But the people of Israel were not all lost in the desert. There were many, like Rachel, who remembered the stories. Who took them to heart. Learned them. Loved them. Shared them.

Through them, we hear of how God not only rescued the people from Egypt, but did provide food and water and a land of their own.

We hear stories about how a mother’s love for her daughter-in-law led her to a new life with a man who loved her – and how that mother became the great-grandmother of a king.

We stories of how the child of a rape victim would grow to become the wisest ruler the world has ever known.

Stories pass on the ongoing work of God. God’s presence in these stories is the tie that binds them together.

It is God’s story that tells us of a boy born in a barn. A boy that would tell God’s story. A story that changes the stories we have created. It is the story of a love that abounds beyond any of our understanding. It is the story of God’s son crucified – publicly executed by the state. It tells the story of how that crucified son had changed the stories of the disinherited. How he changed the story of the blind man. How he changed the story of the leper. How he changed the story of a hemorrhaging woman. How he changed the story by defeating the grave.

Sisters and brothers the story of the crucified son is not the end. It is a necessary point, for without it we would never know that because he was dead, Jesus must rise. The story of hopelessness has been changed. The dust was blown off the pages when God breathed across the pages of history that Sunday morning. God said that there is more to the story.

(Scene 4: In the Line)

God say, “Sh’ma, Community Church. You are part of my story. The story that I need to tell has you as a crucial character. You are in the line of the Children of Israel who were lead out of Egypt. You are children of Ruth. You are in the line of Solomon. You are my beloved children, Sh’ma. Listen. The story has changed and you are part of it.”

Sisters and brothers the story God is telling is bigger than any of our problems. The story is greater than our deepest hurt. We are part of the story – our hurts and pains. They are important parts, but God has a bigger role for us – individually and corporately. Community Church’s story is bigger than Wilmette. Today it is being told in LaCrosse, WI. You see, the robe I am wearing was given to me by your own Jan. It belonged to her father. She is not here today because she is listening to the story of God’s work at her dad’s former church in LaCrosse. The story of how you have been a part of her life is being shared this day. The story of God’s work through you is being shared. The story of how you care for you own is being shared. God has a page in the story of you.

God’s story is bigger that any of our problems. Like Rachel was guided by the cloud of Ha Shem, we are led by the cross. The cross that tells us – the story ain’t over. Sh’ma. Listen. Give ear, O God’s children. Incline your ears. Share the story of God’s great work. Share the story of God’s deeds. Share the story. But remember it isn’t over. Something greater is in store. For God’s great faithfulness has no ending. God’s great story is a work in progress and we are all important character. Sh’ma, Community Church. Sh’ma.

Rest in the bosom of God. Bear each others burdens. Share each others stories, and you will hear, O God’s children, how God is writing the story. You will hear how you fit in. And you will hear God’s word even when you seem lost in the desert. Sh’ma. Listen.

God is a Verb

The story for today’s lesson is one we all know. We learned it in our most primary Sunday School Class. The story of Moses and the Burning Bush. I remember Mrs. White sitting us all down on the carpet with the alphabet on it – pulling Scott and me out from the fort we built Sunday after Sunday out of those cardboard bricks – she would take out the flannel board and stick up there Moses looking for the sheep. The burning bush. I heard the story, but was more fascinated by how those pieces stuck on that board. THAT was the real miracle – there was no tape. They weren’t velcro. They felt like the flannel shirt I loved to wear. She would tell us how the bush didn’t burn and how Moses had to take off his sandals. Mrs. White would tell us that God’s name was “I AM.” Again, I would get stuck there. What kind of name was that? “I AM that I AM.” She would never explain it. I have always been struck by the name of the Living God., “I AM.”

***

I try to picture what was going on on the that day when Moses met “I AM.” I imagine it was another sweltering day in the desert of the Sinai Peninsula. A hot, dry day. The sun sitting high in the sky. Moses and the sheep of his father in law are huddled at the bottom a wadi – or valley – using the shade created by the wall of the valley to give them some respite from the mid-day heat. Moses leaning against the wall of the wadi – maybe sitting chewing on a piece of goat jerky. Counting the sheep. Partly to pass the time. Partly to make sure his dad in law’s sheep are all present and accounted for. 97,98,99, 100, 101,…where is 102? “How did I loose one? I was behind them the whole time. Alright sheepys…stay here. I need to go find BoPeep.”

He gets us. Knocks the sand off his robe. Places his keffiyeh back on his head to protect him from the baking sun. Grab his walking stick from its resting place – leaning on the wadi wall. He faces the east. The sun behind him causes his shadow to become a long silent version of himself pointing in the direction he is to head. He head east. Every hundred feet or so he stops. Closes his eyes and listens. Nothing. Moving forward he repeats the routine. Again and again. Finally, a mile away from where Jethro’s flock is resting, he stops again. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he closes his eyes and listens. He hears it. The bleating of the lamb. He listens again. The sound echoing in the valley makes it difficult to pin-point where the sound is coming from. Baaa-Baaaa. There is it is. Up that embankment. It is near the path they used to come down into the valley. He climbs the embankment, but sees nothing. Now on top of the valley – the dry wind blows sand and it burns his skin. He listens. Baa-Baaa. The sound is coming from the mountain ridge to his left.

Coming to the mountain Moses see there are crags and cliffs that are pretty treacherous. Baa-Baaa. The lamb on the mountain. They went by this place this morning. BoPeep must have wandered off when they made the turn into the wadi. Moses negotiates the crags and crevasses – gingerly. He isn’t a young man anymore like when he fled Egypt. It had been many years. Slipping on a rock he cuts his knee. Ripping a hole in the robe he was wearing. Getting back on his feet he sees the lamb. Caught in the branches of a small tree. He goes to it. The poor thing is dehydrated from the fight to remove itself from the branches. The shepherd reaches inside his outter robe and removes the water-skin and begins to put it to the little sheep’s mouth, but it refuses to drink. Precious water is spilling all over the ground – being swallowed by the dry rocks – evaporating into nothing. As he tries to calm the lamb it breaths its last. Having lost the struggle to keep it alive, Moses begins to try to remove it from the limbs of the tree – when out of the corner of his eye he sees something.

A bush is on fire, but it isn’t being consumed. Thinking he is beginning to be affected by the heat and the sun, Moses reaches for the water-skin – it is empty. Defeated, Moses returns to his haunches and works at the caught lamb again. Then, “Moses. Moses.” He turns to the bush. Still thinking he is seeing things, Moses steps into the shade and sits. Tears begin to well up in his eyes – How will Zipporah and the boys know where to find him, for he will surely die in this place. “Just don’t struggle like the lamb,” he mumbles to himself, “maybe I can hold off until evening and then try to make it to camp.” But this sun has just peaked over the cover he was sitting under. He begins to weep. He looks up with tears blurring his vision. He still sees the bush burning. “This can’t be a mirage. It would have changed by now.” Slowly, stiffly, he raises himself up. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he makes his way to the bush.

“Moses. Moses.”

“What is going on?” Thinks the shepherd.

“Moses.”

“Uhhh…Here I am.”

“Stop.”

Moses unsure if he is loosing his mind stops. Confused. After all, he is having a conversation with a bush that is on fire and not burning. “Take off your shoes, this is Holy Ground.” No loosing eye contact Moses removes his sandals. “Moses. I am the God of your fathers Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.” It have been years since the fugitive shepherd had heard those names. The names of his ancestors hit him like a lead weight. He collapsed to the ground. Weeping he stretched out his hands toward the bush – his face buried in the sand and rock covering the crevasse, “Oh my God.”

“Moses, I have heard the cries of my children in Egypt. I have seen how they are beaten an abused. I see their homes destroyed. Their lively hood being burned. I have seen their suffering. I know their sufferings, and I am come down to save them from the Egyptians. I am showing them a new land – full of milk and honey. I have heard their cries, and I am sending you to Pharaoh – I am calling you to bring them out of Egypt.”

Getting to his knees, Moses stares at the bush. “I am a fugitve. They will surely kill me. How would I even do it? I stutter. I am old. I have a family. And what makes you think Pharaoh would listen to me. Remember, I grew up with him and he hated me then?”

“Moses, I AM with you. And when you gain the freedom of my people, you will return here to worship me. That is how you will know that I am with you. You will come to this place and worship.”

Still not sure, “Ok, fine. But what will I tell your people? I fled them, too. Remember? They probably hate me. I could have done something when I was in Pharaoh’s court. I didn’t. They will ask me what your name is.”

“I AM WHO I AM – ahaya asher ahaya . Tell them I AM has sent you. Tell them Elohim Adoni has send you. The God of your ancestors: of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob has sent me to you. Ahaya – I AM is my name forever. It is my title for all generations.”

Moses and the LORD kept talking and when they were done, Moses – radiating the light of God turned to take the dead lamb and return to the rest of the flock to return them to the camp, but something was amiss. The lamb was not in the tree. Baaa-Baaaa. Moses turned toward the bush that was no longer burning. The lamb came walking from behind the bush. It came up to Moses, and it began to lead the way to the other sheep.

***
Moses was lost. The property of his father in law was dead. Though it was his duty to retrieve the lost sheep – he was leaving the others in danger. He was on the edge of dying. And it is this state of utter despair that God appeared to him. God made God’s self known to this man who was teetering on the edge. And Moses responded like most of us do when confronted by God. We try to bargain with God. We try to make sure God confronts us on our terms.

I know when I was discerning a call to ministry – I really tried to make sure it was on my terms. I would look at schools that I knew were too far away. I would looks at schools I knew were either too conservative or too liberal for me. I kept trying to tell God that, “Sure I hear your call, but I am going to do this on my terms.” See what happened? God said, “Ok. No you aren’t.” I looked at Lutheran school’s page, and found out that God was in control. I should not be at a Lutheran School, but God was working. God called me there because of my concern for the environment. But God had something else in mind and by drawing me to that school introduced me to the area of Urban Ministry to which I feel is what God wanted me to do all along. God is working all the time.

God is working and God is calling us to take steps outside of our comfort zones. Part of our vocation as followers of the Divine Name is to proclaim a world that the world tells us we shout not proclaim. We are called to move away from our came and into the troubled places. To the margins of society. That means going to the streets and witnessing, watching, observing what is going on and naming those things that are not in accordance with the Divine will of God.

We invite the homeless into our building Monday through Friday, but what would happen if they showed up at our service? Would we engage them and get to know them as beloved children of God? As children groaning under the oppression of a system that prefers they be invisible? Or would we acknowledge them and leave it at that? We are called to stand in the margins. To stand in the margins and in the face of the powers that have conspired to keep people oppressed. Will we stay at the bush in the comforting presence of the Divine, or will we go to Egypt? Will we go to Pharaoh and say, “Let God’s people go. Let them go to a warm bed. Let them eat a hot meal. Do not favor your friends who can pay to get you reelected over the needs of the broken on the street.

We are building a new service here. A service that has been called into being and namedGod by God. Will we stand her in awe of the unconsumed burning bush, or will we engage it? Hear what it has to say, and then, like Moses, go back to Egypt?

This story of Moses’ call is a profound one as we begin work on rebuilding this service. In the story we learn that God’s name is ahaya asher ahaya – I AM WHO I AM. The thing that we loose in the English translation of the divine name is the fact that it is a verb – not a noun like proper names in our language. The root of the name hyh means “to be, become, come to pass, exist, happen.” In revealing to Moses the divine name, God is telling Moses that God is constantly working in the world. God is telling Moses that God is a verb. An action. Never stopping. Since there is no past tense or future tense in Hebrew – God is and always is and always has been moving. God names the ancestors of the past. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

The God of Miriam, Aaron, and Zipporah. The God of Deborah, Bathsheba, and Ruth. The God of Tamar, Jonathan, and Amos. The God of Mary, Joseph, and Elizabeth. The God who came in the person of Jesus and worked on our terms to show us what the Rule of God should be. The God who was lamb staked to a tree. The God who died, yet walked from behind the bush that Sunday morning and greeted a grieving Mary Magdaline. The God who is with us tonight. The God who is with us as we worship.

Friends, we try to name God on the best terms we know. We call God many names, we try to name God. We need to name God, and that is why this name is so amazing.
When we are called to start a new service – we call on God. When we go to the streets in protest of unjust laws – we call on God. When we sit at the bedside of a dying friend – we call on God. When we are beaten down by the weight of uncertainty – we call on God. When we see our leaders acting like children – we call on God. When everything we hold dear seems to be taken from us, like Job – we call on God. We call on God – I AM – who is with us right when we need God.

God is working. ahaya is not going anywhere. And we will know this because, we will worship God in this place. Like the Children of Israel who came out of Egypt and worshiped God on the mountain. We have heard our names called by the one on whom we call. God says, “Sarah, I AM with you. Randy, I AM working. Leo, I AM by your side…”

God says to us all I AM the one who has defeated all that will hold you back. I AM the one who defeated death. I AM the one who loosed the chains that keep you from being who I called you to be. I AM. Do not be afraid. I AM. Every minute – every second – every nanosecond of every day I AM.

So as we re-launch this service, and we think back on that flannel board stories of Mrs. White, and as we see how God has worked in our lives – let us go forth proclaiming the Amazing Grace that I AM is alway working – for our God is alway in action. We have the lamb who came from behind the bush to lead us.

Take My Hand

(Prologue – When the Way is Dark and Drear)

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, let me stand

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

It was 1932 and a 32 year old choir leader, name Thomas Dorsey, was called to a revival in St. Louis. He was leaving his 9-month pregnant wife at home. They were expecting their first child. Here is his account of the what happened:

“Back in 1932, I was 32 years old and a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie, and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago’s South side.

One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis, where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn’t want to go. Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child.  But a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. I kissed Nettie good-bye, clattered downstairs to our Model A and, in a fresh Lake Michigan breeze, chugged out of Chicago on Route 66.

“However, outside the city, I discovered that in my anxiety at leaving, I had forgotten my music case. I wheeled around and headed back.  I found Nettie sleeping peacefully. I hesitated by her bed; something was strongly telling me to stay. But eager to get on my way, and not wanting to disturb Nettie, I shrugged off the feeling and quietly slipped out of the room with my music.

“The next night, in the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED.
“People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly keep from crying out. I rushed to a phone and called home.  All I could hear on the other end was ‘Nettie is dead. Nettie is dead.’

“When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy.

“Yet that night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn’t want to serve Him any more or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well.

“But then, as I hunched alone in that dark apartment those first sad days, I thought back to the afternoon I went to St. Louis. Something kept telling me to stay with Nettie. Was that something God? Oh, if I had paid more attention to Him that day, I would have stayed and been with Nettie when she died. From that moment on I vowed to listen more closely to Him. But still I was lost in grief.

“Everyone was kind to me, especially a friend, Professor Fry, who seemed to know what I needed. On the following Saturday evening he took me up to Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows. I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me then. I felt at peace. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God.  I found myself playing a melody, into my head – they just seemed to fall into place.1”

That is how the hymn Take My Hand, Precious Lord came to be. Pray With me:
….Amen

Here these words from Paul’s letter to the Romans as you consider the theme of “Take my Hand.”

(Read Rom. 8:26-39)

(Scene 1 – Are we alone?)

“For your sake we are being killed all day long; and we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” Paul is quoting Psalms here as he conveys the state of mind of the audience to whom he is writing. The Christians in Rome were a decisive minority, and a rejected and persecuted one at that. They had been abandoned by their fellow Jews – called a rebel sect who were following this new leader – Chirstus. Their arguments had gotten so bad, the Roman authorities had kicked the Jews out – believers and non-believers alike. While the Jews were exiled the seed had been planted and the Christian faith continued in Rome, but it was the Gentiles who carried it on.

Several years after the exile of the Jews the caesar who demanded the exile died and the Jews returned to Rome – among them the Jewish Chirstians. They returned to a decidedly different church. One dominated by those they deemed unfit to be true Chirstians.
Add to this confusion of what makes a “true Chirstian” the fact that throughout the empire Christians are being killed by the state – you have a fragile church that is wondering where God is?

We are confronted with a church that is wondering what her purpose is. Are we alone? Paul commends our faith, but there are so many things getting in the way of belief that it may just be easier to give up and do what the Romans do. Our Spirit is weak and we can not pray as we ought. Are we alone?

(Scene 2 – Hello?)

Thomas Dorsey, “closeted up” those days after the deaths of his wife and baby boy, had given up hope in the God he served. He was abandoned by the one to whom he dedicated his life. The Romans felt like their world was a disaster – not knowing right from left. The world is turned upside down.

I spent the last two weeks up in Minnesota and it was an interesting time to be there. Their world was turned upside down. For nearly a month the state government was shut down. The Republicans and the DFL (as the Democrats are known up there) could not reach an agreement on the budget, and as a result all non-essential services were closed. State Parks, Rest Stops, the DMV, Licensing boards. And things that we don’t miss until they are gone. There was a couple who adopted a son in Texas, but were unable to come home to the St. Paul because the state agency that did the paper work for adoptions was shut down.

We arrived in MN during the second week of the shutdown. During week 3 the Governor – a DFL party member – came to Southeast MN where we were staying – so his visit was all over the news. Instead of the Tea Party madness of the only way to fix things is cut, cut, cut – the news actually covered what happened inside the meetings. Gov. Dayton met with those who would be most affected by the proposed budget cuts – the elderly and the disabled. People who had no way to care for themselves and needed – desperately – the checks they got from the government to buy their food and get their prescriptions. They were pleading for compassion. There was a woman who worked her whole life and then got injured on the job and had to be on disability – she was going to loose here house if they made the proposed cuts. Lives were being shaken upside down. Sadly the budget that made the cuts was eventually the one adopted.

This is similar to the fight going on in DC at the moment. The ones elected to serve our best interest are not thinking about the least among us. There some here today who are invisible to the ones fighting over how much to cut in order to keep a millionaire from moving to a higher tax bracket.

People are becoming invisible. The powers and principalities conspire to keep the least among us in that position. The world is being turned upside down. People are becoming invisible. You and I are becoming invisible.

We struggle to understand how – if government is ordained by God – can it be so cruel to the smallest. We wonder how we are going to cover the next mound of medical bills. We struggle to understand why a bank we have been with and paid our mortgage faithfully would not allow us to refinance and instead wishes to take our house from us. We “closet” up, and don’t want to face another headline of a beautiful baby being killed in the crossfire of the wars on our streets. The powers of death, destruction and demons; of things seen and unseen; high and low; conspire against us. Powers and principalities cover us in the veil of death that is being woven by the forces of darkness – determined to prevent us from seeing the love of God. They weigh on us and keep pricking us. Just as we see a sign of hope. “You’re fired.” As the light begins to peek over the horizon; bang bang bang. O God, I pray, but I have no words.

When my way grows drear

Precious Lord linger near

When my life is almost gone

Hear my cry, hear my call

Hold my hand lest I fall

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

(Scene 3 – I’m Here)

Rest assured, Paul tells the Christians of Rome – when you have no words – The Holy Spirit is there to intercede for us. Hearing our groans and searching our hearts, she sighs and God hears. God knows the pains you are going through. God has given God’s son – God gives everything that is needed.

God saw the Christians through their persecution. God built a church that has touched the ends of the Earth.

Priscilla and Aquila returned to Rome and the church flourished.

Persecution became the rule under Nero, but the faithful in Christ were more than conquerers to that which oppressed them.

The church began to grow. The church spread from the deserts of Palestine to the columns of Rome. To the sands of Egypt and the fields of Dover. The church flourished in the African desert and men like Augustine began to change the world.

The church flourished. But as it grew it became the power it despised. Christendom took over and Christianity began to fade.

It came to the new world. It came though, as a conquer, but there were those who heard these words form Paul. The slaves – the daughters of Monica – hearing the promise of a Grace that justifies and glorifies – brought a revival to our land.

They understood that it is God who is the true master and no one on this earth can keep them from the Grace that is in Christ Jesus. No matter what wickedness may be perpetuated upon God’s people – God will sustain and God will provide.

As time moved on – People began to rest in the assurance of Grace that is Jesus Christ, and as they did they reached out. They began to speak out about the injustices around them. Making the invisible visible. Sojourner Truth, Fredrick Douglas, Susan B. Anthony. Walter Rauschenbush, Gardner Taylor, Ralph Abernathy, Martin Luther King. These people found voice and named the God who triumphs over the veil of death.

Ida B. Wells. Harold Washington. Jane Adams. Nothing separates us from the Grace of God.

Jitsu Morikawa, Jesse Brown, You, Me. We have been saved by Grace. We have been justified. We have been glorified.

The God of Grace is one who sees the least among us and says Take my Hand.

Nothing could separate our forbearers in faith from that Grace.

(Scene 4 – Take MY Hand!)
Nothing can separate us from that Grace, either.

For it is there for all whether Jew or Gentile; Christian or Muslim; Man or Woman; Black or White; LGBTQ or straight. God’s grace is sufficient for everyone. And, as believers, nothing the world can throw at us will conquer us.

We have been called to a specific purpose – to be a church that stands in the dark places when it seems God has left the building. To be a beacon of light – like Professor Fry was to Thomas Dorsey – and shine for those who have closeted themselves up.

Sisters and Brothers – we are able. We are beloved. We have nothing to fear. Christ has closed the chasm that would separate us from God.

For I am convinced that neither medical bills, nor student loans, nor 60 hour work weeks, nor the loss of a job, nor the loss of friends, nor a cheating boyfriend, nor a teasing girlfriend, nor foreclosure, nor divorce, nor stubborn children, nor abusive parents, nor moving away, nor empty nesting, nor sex, nor gangs, nor drugs, nor death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

God has crossed that chasm and reaches down. God’s hand is there. Reach for it. Listen for God around you and you may just hear:

Precious Child, take my hand

Lean on me, I’ll help you stand

You are mine; I am here; I am yours

Through the storm, through the night

Look to me, I’m your Light

Take my hand precious Child, Take my hand.

Text:
Justin Thornburgh
North Shore Baptist Church
26 June, 2011
Pentecost 2A
Gen. 22:1-18

So That

(Scene 1: Are You Sure?)

Sisters and brothers – come with me as I engage in some sanctified imagination. Come with me back to camp where a boy wakes up to the smell of breakfast.

The day started out like any other. We woke up to the smell of the breakfast mom had made. I don’t know how she does it – at her age she is always the first one up; has a fire stoked; and breakfast ready for us. I came out of the tent. Sleep crusted in my eyes. The summer heat had already begun to make its move. I gave mom the ritual hug. But something seemed different this time. She would not let me go. The others were looking at me and beginning to laugh.

“Come on Mom. My friends are laughing,” I said struggling to get away.

“I love you, my boy,” she whispered in my ear. As she moved her face away from mine and let me go I noticed my cheek was moist. I looked at mom. She had tears in her eyes. That was weird. I had only seen her cry once before. Usually she was so full of joy. The only other time I had seen tears was when I was little and she kicked her servant out of the camp – She was angry, then, though I don’t know why. My brother and I were just playing dodge the rock. I miss him. I wonder where he is now. Anyway, I grabbed a piece of bread and some goat meat and went to join my friends.

We were playing tease the camel when I realized I had not seen my dad. He was usually up shortly after mom getting the sheep together and ready to go to pasture. The sheep were still wondering around their pen and dad wasn’t with the servants. He would meet with them every morning and tell them about the promise Ha Shem had given him. He kept talking about being the father of many nations and how he was going to be a blessing for many. He would tell them that Ha Shem had called him away from the gods of his parents and claimed to be the One True God. I had heard it all many times, but still had questions. But my dad trusted Ha Shem – The Name – completely. It was one of his enduring qualities – his love for Ha Shem.

Dad was nowhere to be found. I was worried. He was old, and should not be out wandering around by himself. He always took two or three of us with him, but today everyone was at camp.

Thinking about it now, though, I do remember him tossing and turning all night. He would get up and pace around the tent. I remember the sound of the shuffling of his feet. And hearing him muttering something about, “Is there no other way? I thought you were different from the gods of my fathers. They would demand death. They took human blood. Why are you doing this?” I had no idea what on earth he was mumbling about. Sometimes he was known to have “episodes.”

Then I saw him. Coming over the ridge in the east. It was his silhouette, the sun was rising over the hill behind him. He was hurting, I could tell. He made his way to where we were playing. It hurt to look at him. He was not the spry old man I was used to seeing. The one who would play tease the camel with us. The one who would sit around the fire at night telling us jokes. The one who held me on his lap when I was a boy. No, this was a man who now looked all his years. His eyes were vacant. He looked at me, but he was looking past me – through me.

“We need to go to Moriah. Gather wood with the servants. We leave after breakfast.”

“Why? It is 3 days away.” He was gone.

When he finished breakfast, he got on his donkey and we headed out to Moriah. We walked. Baking in the summer heat. We went with two of my friends. I was hoping this would be an adventure. Like the time into the mountains for fox hunting. But something was different this time. Dad was silent. Not saying a word. For two days. I kept trying to make conversation, but each time – nothing. He would just stare straight ahead. We went on.

On the third day we stopped. I saw Moriah in the distance. Dad stopped. Muttering something under his breath. It sounded like, “I thought you were different.” He turned and told my friends to stay put and to put the wood on my back. We were going to make an offering to Ha Shem. We moved forward. This was only the third time I had been allowed to go with him to make a sacrifice. Only since I had turned 13. But something was off this time.

“Dad, you have the dagger and torch. I have the wood, but where is the animal? Why didn’t we bring one with us?”

Then he said his first words in 3 days, “Ha Shem will provide the lamb for a burn offering, my boy.” Tears began to well up in his eyes. He now had the same sadness in his eyes that mom had 3 days ago.

We got to the mountain top. I didn’t see any lamb. “Help me build an an altar, son.”

“Yes, dad.” I was starting to feel ill. There was something about the way he said what he said. He was not here. His mind was elsewhere. As we piled the rocks he kept muttering. I don’t know what he was saying, but he would have to stop from time to time to and step away fro the work. I would hear him shout. He was speaking a language I didn’t know. I don’t know what he was saying. Then, “This is how you show you love me for all the times I have obeyed you. Ha Shem. I don’t want to do this.” Then he came toward me with the rope that bound the wood. He whispered, “My son, forgive me. I don’t know what I am doing.” They as quickly as he would when lassoing a lamb, the rope was around my chest and arms. Pulling tight. I couldn’t breathe. Where was he getting this strength. I couldn’t breath. I was gasping for air. I fell to my knees. I couldn’t speak. I looked into his eyes. Tears pouring down my face. I mouthed words – “Daddy. Why?” Tears streaming down his face, Dad lifted me like was a baby and put me on the altar. On top of the wood I had carried up the hill. I tried again, “Daddy?” Nothing came out.

Then, his face as red as a sunburnt baby. His beard and mustache covered in snot and tears. His eyes, the most sad and broken things I had ever see, they were full of guilt and grief. He rested his hand on my forehead, bent my head back. Exposing my throat. He raised his arm. The dagger. The sun hitting the blade. A rainbow in the iron reflection. The dagger held over my head. He muttered a prayers. The blade to my throat. I gasped… “Daddy? Daddy?”

(Scene 2 – Daggers All Around)

Sisters and Brothers – the binding of Isaac. The sacrifice of a child – a human being. It is one of the most difficult texts in the whole cannon. And yet, everyday we are bound like the beloved son of Abraham. We are laid on the altar of gods that demand our death, like the gods of Abraham’s fore bearers.

For them it was sacrifice for a good harvest, or rains. A sacrifice for the birth of an heir. A sacrifice to appease an angry god.

We are now laid at the altar of mammon. At the altar of corporate greed or governmental polices that demand the vulnerable die for the benefit of the “greater good.” We are laid on the altar of profit and prosperity.

Sylvia Jo Olgesby, a woman from the South Side of Chicago who marched with Dr. King, was laid on such an altar when her bank refused to modify a loan for her; even though she lived in the house she was trying to refinance for 41 years. The dagger of foreclosure is being laid at her throat. The gods of bank bailouts are demanding her death.

Last night a 7 year old girl was laid at the altar of death when she was shot in the leg. The gods of the gun lobby were calling for her death.

Some here today may be laying on an altar. Starring at the dagger. Caught in the tangled web of debt. Captive to the cost of prescriptions. Struggling to find meaning after loosing a job. Wondering how to deal with a loved one questioning her reason to live. We all have been tied to the altar at one time or another. The gods of this world demanding what we can not give.

These gods have demanded human sacrifice for so long that it becomes normal for us to hear such news. Another 5,000 jobs lost in manufacturing; 28,000 jobs lost in various local governments; a 13 year old hispanic boy is killed; cuts are being proposed to WIC and Medicaid. We get so used to hearing this that we miss seeing the dagger shinning in the sun. These gods are demanding our death. We are being bound to the altar like Isaac.

(Scene 3 – The Ram!)

It is no wonder then, that Abraham seems to so willingly sacrifice his son. Though I am sure he knew what he was doing was wrong, and he may have questioned the motives of God – even to the point of arguing – he still went to that mountain all those years ago. Prepared to offer up his son – because, though he believed Ha Shem was the One True God – the gods of his past made their way back to his mind. Remembering their demand for death – His God must now be calling Abraham to pay up what it due. “I gave you this son, now kill him. If I gave you one, I will give you more and my promise will still be good that you will be the father of nations, but now – give me my sacrifice.”

But then, as the knife was laid at the throat of Isaac. A voice came from the air, “Abraham, Abraham. Do not hurt the boy. I will bless you because you have obeyed. Abraham, you are loved by me. Isaac, my child, you are blessed. You are loved by me. I did this to prove that I will provide. I am not like the gods of this world. I demand life, not death.” And a ram was in the thicket.

Sisters and Brothers. God had to take a bold action to prove that Gods is a God of life. God demands life. In the midst of the gods of this world demanding death, our God says you are mine and you are loved. Ours is a God of love.

Our God loves us so much that God allowed Godself to bear the weight of the wood as he made his way to the top of the mountain to be sacrificed for the world. Our God laid down on the altar of the world – taking upon himself – in the person of Jesus – the dagger of sacrifice. For Sylvia Jo, for the 7 year old girl, for 13 year old Richard Gutierrez, for you and for me. God blessed Abraham and that blessing carries on to us. God stopped the dagger of death and said, “Death has no place in my Rule. I am a God of life. You are loved.”

(Scene 4: The Blessing)

Friends, God revealed that God is a God of life and love to Isaac;
So that, Jacob would learn of that love and pass it on;

So that, Joseph would be an heir of that love;

So that, when famine hit Canaan his brothers would come to Egypt and ask him for food;

So that, the children of Israel would share with their offspring that theirs is a God of life and love;

So that, as their numbers grew numerous and they were taken into captivity, a boy would be raised by his captors;

So that, as that boy grew into a man he would return to his people and lead them across the Red Sea – to freedom – to new life;

So that, they, too, would learn of the God of life and love;

So that, when they crossed into the promised land they would encounter a prostitute named Rahab;

So that, Rahab would become the great-grandmother of their future king, David;

So that, when the children of Abraham were captive again – a boy, born in a manger, would be born from the line of David;

So that, that boy would turn into a man and proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor;

So that, when the authorities held the dagger of death and demanded he carry a cross – he would;

So that, three days later he would rise from the grave and say that, “Oh gods of Death, You can’t stop the God of Abraham – For I am a God of life and love. You hold no power here;”

So that, 40 days later That boy born in the manger would ascend to be at the right hand of the God of life and love.

…But, sisters and brothers, that is not the end of the story…

All that happened
So that, 10 days later the tongues of fire would descend on the 120 in the upper room and they would move to the streets and tell the world of the God of life and love;

So that, the story of this God would move into Asia and Africa;

So that, men named Tertullian and Augustine would eventually learn of this God;

So that, an Augustinian monk in 1517 would plant the seeds for reformation – reminding people that the God of life and love is a God of Grace not indulgence;

So that, that reformation would bear fruit in England and Amsterdam in the person of John Smyth who would quote Tertullian when defending his belief in adult baptism;

So that, the Baptist tradition would be born;

So that, in the New World, a Baptist named Roger Williams would say that the God of life and love calls for fair treatment of the ones on this land before us;

So that, when persecuted in Massachusetts he could buy land from the natives and found Rhode Island;

So that, in Providence the First Baptist Church, in the New World would be founded;

So that, the God of life and love could be proclaimed with out being beholden to the state;

So that, in 1833, the Baptists of the North could say that the God of life and love wold abolish slavery;

So that, in 1842 C.B. Smith – one of the anti-slavery Baptists – would become the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Chicago;

So that; God of life and love would be proclaimed in First Baptists many daughter churches;

So that; a mailman in 1905 would recognize that many of his neighbors were Baptists;

So that; North Shore Baptist church would be founded;

So that, we could be here today giving thanks to a God of life and love. A God that has known since the days of Abraham and Isaac – that you and I would be here today. A God who has been faithful through out the generations. A God who promised a blessing to Abraham and continues that blessing to us. A God who – when we are laid at the altar of death – says you are my beloved child. Live.

Our God has power over all the gods of this world. So, when times come when we feel tied to the altar of death, remember that our God provided another way. Our God has loved us since before we were born. We are here as a community to bless one another – to hold each other and to be witnesses of the God of life and love. If you are here today and feel tied to an altar of death – reach out. If you have been freed from the altar of death – reach out. We are heirs to Abraham’s blessing. Let us bless one another in the name of the God of Life and Love.

I am posting the Declaration of Rights below, and encourage any of my clergy friends to sign it either in the comments or by liking it (you do not have to be clergy to do either of these), but more importantly I urge you to take it to your congregations and allow it to stimulate your vision for a world as God intends.

Grace and Peace,
Justin

Declaration of Rights in the Beloved Community

Whereas we believe that all people are created equally in the image of God and that the presence of God in humanity is an essential part of what it means to be human, we vow to recommit ourselves every day to doing our best, by the Grace of God, to live into an Absolute Resurrection Theology. This means that:

– Whereas we claim the Good News of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we commit ourselves to seeking to live into God’s intention and vision for the possibilities of the world.

- We believe that God has the power to resurrect and to make the new heaven and new earth a reality.

- Because God has defeated death, God can also defeat violence.

- God is calling the Body of Christ not merely to faith but to a radical discipleship that seeks to embody and live into this new reality believing that God has freed us not for ourselves alone but that all people might truly be free.

As a consequence of an Absolute Resurrection Theology all people are enumerated the following inalienable rights:

The right to be recognized and be dignified regardless of gender, race, sexuality, religion, creed, economic station, or state of health.

The right to claim your identity – to name yourself and not be the object of systems that seek to devalue your worth, but to name yourself and make your self the subject.

The right to employment that provides you a living wage, safe and dignified working conditions, and that has fair and just hiring and dismissal practices.

The right to mobility – to fair and affordable housing that would allow you to live on the South Side of Chicago or the along the Gold Coast.

The right to be safe – to have the same access to physical, mental and emotional safety as everyone else.

The right to community – a place to gather and work with others.

The right to have access to not just emergency health care, but to preventative health care.

The right to be educated – that everyone have the same access to quality education.

The right to Sabbath – a time of rest for spiritual, mental and emotional renewal.

Therefore in recognition of these rights and of the Gospel of Jesus Christ we demand communities of faith pick up and bear the cross and be a witness in society. We demand these communities of faith mobilize people for the care of their neighbors both locally and globally.

We Demand:
Better Law Enforcement:
- Our law enforcement system to practice restorative justice as opposed to retributive justice.
- Our police force must protect all persons regardless of race, gender, class, or age from all forms of violence.

We Demand:
Better Business:
- Corporations cannot view people as means to an end, but rather as the end.
- People have inherent value that is greater than any profit.

We Demand:
- Better Political Administration:
- Politicians will be held accountable to uphold principle over price.
- Our political system must empower everyone to name their place at the table.
- Leaders must emerge from every walk of life, not just the privileged.

We Demand:
Better Education:
- Education must be offered equally for everyone regardless of linguistic, mental, physical capabilities.
- All can learn and have the ability to do so even in light of the reality that everyone will not learn in the same way or on the same day.
- Anything humans have done; humans can do.

We Demand:
Better Healthcare:
- Healthcare that equitably offers preventative care and rehabilitation to those in need.

We Demand:
Better Community Relations:
- No one can be seen as being irreparably damaged.
- People must be viewed based on their gifts and talents not their limitations.

As leaders of communities of faith there is no reason for us not to declare these rights and demands as we seek to create the Beloved Community.

Written by Jennifer Crosswhite, Benjamin Adams, James Bixby, & Justin Thornburgh
14 January, 2011

I knew she had family and friends who could not be here, so I asked them to contribute something…below is the video I made … with their help.