Look, See, Listen, Serve
Luke 10:38-42

Sunday, July 18, 2010 - the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

As he visits Martha and Mary, Jesus upholds a vision of discipleship that is focused on being gathered in God's presence to receive God's Word, reminding us of the one thing that is needed.

Sermon:

When I was a young seminary student, I had the opportunity to have lunch with one of Princeton's distinguished and retired professors of preaching. He was a man I had long read about, a scholar whose work enjoyed a prestigious international reputation and whose artfulness as a preacher was well known. I had long read about this man and was overjoyed when he told me he would grant me the honor of a lunch time conversation about preaching.

I was beside myself with excitement. I simply could not believe that he would take time for lunch with a first year seminary student, so I did my homework. I came with all the eagerness and naiveté of youth. I checked out his books from the library. Eager to sit at his feet and learn from his expertise, I thought of all sorts of questions. I was anxious to learn the art of preaching, and stayed focused on his every word.

But I was sorely disappointed.

Within seconds, I learned that he was much more interested in his own reputation and feeding his own rather sizable ego than he was in sharing any practical advice. Our conversation began friendly but quickly detoured down a path of his own choosing. Instead of a healthy exchange about preaching, it became a name-dropping monologue designed to impress and not to teach. I ate my lunch as he fed his voracious ego. The entire conversation was focused on him: his reputation, his work, his achievements. As in, "I found Robert Schuller much more interesting than Billy Graham." When I relayed my experience with the current chair of the seminary's homiletics department, he shook his head in sad agreement and said, "You know, I'd like to invite him to come back and speak, but he'd have to go away first."

In a strange sort of way, I did learn a critical lesson about preaching: focus is everything.

Focus is everything. A friend of mine said recently that when he is in a dull and rambling business meeting, one of those meetings that has derailed so far from its purpose that it seems hopelessly bogged down in a log jam, he pulls out an imaginery air horn and pretends to pull its trigger. He sticks his hand in the air and blasts away: 'bahmp! Bahmp!" in order to call the meeting back to its focal point. (For those of you with an Iphone, yes, there is an app for that!)

Focus is everything.

Luke's story of Jesus' visit to Martha and Mary seems to addressing a similar theological motif. This is not, as many think, a story that pokes fun of those faithful women (and men) who offer their gifts in service to Christ through hospitality. Instead, it is a story about being a focused disciple – a disciple who yearns for the heart of God. In many ways it completes the story we heard last week about the Good Samaritan. In that story, Jesus responds to a question about how we love God by illustrating the extravagant, extraordinary and focused love for neighbors. Go, he says, and do likewise. Go, and live God by loving your neighbor.

But that is only part of the commandment. The first part concerns loving God with all your heart, mind, and soul. Look, says, Jesus. Faithfulness sometimes requires nothing more than simply being with God.

As Jesus is greeted by Mary, we hear Martha running to the pantry to see what she can rustle up for dinner. Mary welcomes Jesus, while Martha pops her end through the kitchen door. She's boiling the water, chopping the vegetables, and wiping spots off the good crystal. Mary's propped up near Jesus' feet, listening to his stories. The tension is building. Pretty soon the water is not the only thing that is boiling: Martha is red-faced with anger. I've had a front row seat for the past twenty years in the lives of sisters, and I know well the looks only sisters can give. She tries sign language to get Mary's attention. She drops a pan, stomps her feet. When all that fails, she bolts back into the living room, hands on hips, sweat dripping from her brow and flour dotting her cheeks. "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me."

You bet she is focused...just not on the right things.

Martha, Martha, Martha. So worried and distracted by many things. So consumed by making everything perfect. So lost in a vision of work without grace that you have lost sight of what is important. Listen to your words: me, me, my. Dwelling in your tasks, you have lost sight of what is truly important: listening to God and receiving the good news of a Gospel that frees you from frantic work.

Remember my words, I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly. Remember how I told you, "Come to me all you who labor and are carrying heavy burdens."

Mary, in contrast, has seized upon that one thing that is good: receiving Jesus and centering herself in the Lord's presence. Jesus is not discounting the importance of hospitality. He is not diminishing the tasks to which Martha has committed herself. Never does he suggest that Martha stop cooking dinner. But he calls Martha, and he calls you and I, to a new focus in life. That is the good news of the Gospel: in Jesus Chris we are invited to set down our worries and preoccupations, and simply experience God's love. The worried-and-too-easily distracted Martha is missing the opportunity to do nothing more than receive the gift of abundant grace sitting in her living room.

Jesus words suggest a pattern to our lives as disciples. He is telling us, focus is everything. See what I am doing in your life, in your world, and how I am with you. Take a moment to do nothing more than to look at what is around you. See my presence in your life. Listen to my Word, and then serve faithfully.

We cannot go and do, unless we have stopped and listened.

Distracted and worried about many things, we miss the surprise of a God who is constantly doing new things. Rushing around in our lives, we fail to take note of the ways God has come to us: in the love of a spouse, in the delight of a child, in the blessings of simply being quiet.

Katie Huey, a pastor and writer notes that Jesus chooses the unlikely teachers to teach these lessons about discipleship: a despised Samaritan and a lowly, non-credentialed woman. But that is the point. God is doing something new, and if we do not stop, look, listen at what is happening, we will not have the focused vision to serve as Christ calls us. [1]

God was speaking this week, and despite the hustle and often frantic pace of Vacation Bible School, if you stopped long enough, you could sense where grace was present. I have been involved with VBS one way or another for twenty-five years and this is what I've learned: I will never be able to do hand motions to songs, and the true centers of power are the Snack Ladies. At Woodlawn, the Snack Ladies achieve the status of royalty. If Presbyterians had saints, we would certainly canonize the Snack Ladies because they do miracles. This week, Cindy Capatosta, Martha Faris, Mary Voth and Rosella Gleason ran the kitchen. They were forces to be reckoned with! But there was a calm present in the laughter of their voices, and a love offered with each animal cracker and cup of water. Like all of our volunteers, they were focused. Unlike the ever-distracted Martha, our Snack Saints were prayers in action – passing out bandaids and cookies, love and grace, stopping ever so long enough to see Christ coming to them in the eyes of those children.

If your life is running at a breakneck speed, I'd invite you to take a cue from Mary and our very own snack ladies. Grab a bag of animal crackers and a cup of water, and then look, see, listen to where God is present in your life, calling you to serve. And then go and do likewise.

Amen.

[1] Http;//www.ucc.org/worship/Samuel/july-18-2010-sixteenth.html

“What Sort of Freedom?”

Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

Galatians 5: 1,13-25

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Freedom is the space which Christ has placed us to serve one another so that the fruits of the Spirit might be born in our lives.

          Last week, my daughter Cindy and I attended her freshman orientation at Missouri State University in Springfield.   As you can imagine, the event included the usual overdose of information: all you ever needed or did not imagine you needed to know about college, ranging from meal plans to text books, intramurals to computers, roommates to classes. 

          Inside the auditorium, the air was thick with anticipation.  Every seat was taken. Anxiety was rampant.  The air was charged with excitement.  You could tell that those attending were dreaming of their first taste of freedom in 18 years.  They were yearning for the time that they would be freed from old routines.  Soon, and very soon, they knew they could eat the food they wanted, and when they wanted.  Soon they could listen to the sort of music they liked for once.  In a few weeks, they could do whatever they wanted to do on weekends.  No more fights about laundry, no more racing for the car keys.   The day of liberation was coming! 

           And the kids' had some concerns, as well! 

          We dream of these moments of liberation, imagining that they are going to be magical experiences that suddenly make us feel more free, more independent, more empowered.  Being an adult is defined by this progression of markers from getting a driver’s license to getting a job. We call it freedom.

          Watching fireworks explode over Ballwin last  night reminded me of other liberation moments.  Those red, white, green, and blue bursts of light are symbols of national freedom. Fireworks are the equivalent of pop-up adds on the Internet, advertising our Fourth of July celebration of freedom and independence.   We wave flags, watch parades, listen to music, eat hot dogs and ice cream, and we call it freedom.

           But is that all that freedom is? 

If you wonder about that, I invite you to join me exploring themes of freedom in these next two sermons. I want to think theologically about freedom, for I believe it is spiritual freedom we are really seeking.   Freedom, we know, easily degenerates into self-centered animosity and hatred, or greedy selfish indulgence.  We are free to explore the earth’s resources, and to use them; but we also know that price tag that brings.  Wars are fought for freedom, but they bring captivity and injustice as well.  Individuals can believe they are free to do whatever they want, but that can translate into ignoring family responsibilities.   

          What is the freedom for which we yearn?

          Paul guides our exploration of freedom from a biblical and theological point of view.  His concern is  primarily pastoral.  Promoters of a different sort of Gospel have arisen in the Galatian community.  These opponents to Paul have taken a strict view on who can lay claim to Christ.  They preach full adherence to the Hebrew law.  Yet Paul sees this as a yoke of slavery.  Scholars remind us that in the ancient world, prisoners of war were marched beneath an oxen yoke as a reminder of their captivity.   In response, Paul reminds the Galatians that they are claimed by Christ, and that Christ’s gift to them is freedom.  “Stand firm,” he tells them. “do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”

          It is grace that makes us truly free.

          A colleague once told me about visiting an elderly man in her congregation.  He had been a particularly difficult person, often muttering inappropriate comments during worship, standing up and disrupting worship with bizarre and often hurtful words.  Following a particularly painful Sunday in which he had stood in worship and uttered a string of hurtful comments, she visited the man.  You could tell he was curious about the reason for her visit.  He looked surprise when she asked him to refrain from making future comments.  She explained how disruptive his behavior had become.  He wondered aloud if that meant he was no longer welcomed in worship. She touched his hand lightly and looked him in the eye.  “Of course not, we believe in grace!” He looked at her and said “No one in my 80 years has ever explained what grace is all about.Tell me about grace.”

          Grace believes that we are called to support each other, taking care, as Paul says, not to dig into each other with teeth bared, devouring each other in anger and lust.

          Grace is about surrendering ourselves to God’s promises.  Grace is about allowing the Spirit to take root in our lives, so that the fruits of the Spirit may bloom.  Grace is about being led by the Spirit, allowing our lives to become entwined with others in holy community.  Grace is about becoming Christians whose lives abound with the harvest of fruit the Spirit brings:  “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.”  Grace, says Paul, brings us into bondage with each other as servants who know that the whole law is summed up in this one commandment: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

          Grace frees us from the tyranny of self-indulgent, self-centered behaviors that are never fully satisfied.  Grace leads us toward a life centered in robust hospitality, ever-deepening spirituality, and sincere service of those in need.  Paul might have just as well said, “Wait your turn at the ice cream social, for this fulfills the law of Christ.”

          And when grace fills our lives, what Paul in chapter five, verse six calls “faith working through love,”  we experience true freedom.

          Let me share with you an experience of grace that has had an enormous impact on our community.  Last week, we received the wonderful news that the federal government had granted the petition of our Presbytery that Jerry Chang be granted a religious worker’s visa.  What this means is that Jerry can now begin working fulltime for the church in the areas of children’s and youth ministry.  Never did we believe we would be in the position to call a second full time staff member.  It is a gift of sheer grace, and it is the sort of gift which will free us to do amazing, creative ministry.  Trusting in God’s grace Jerry has already been busy putting together an outstanding youth and children’s ministry. He’s been busy calling every youth on our roster – every youth—inviting them, introducing himself, encouraging them to come.  He believes that there will always be enough.  The fruits of the spirit are just beginning to be harvested.

          Once grace takes hold of your life – and Paul says that a little yeast leavens the whole batch—once grace takes hold, you see things differently.  You put your hand to the plough and follow Christ.  You believe that God is at work.  You are freed from anxious compulsions that enslave you.  You set aside desires to destroy others.  Once grace takes hold in your life you are led by the Spirit, and you open yourself in hospitality, deep spirituality, and ever-growing serving.

          You become truly free only as you are led into deep relationship with others. 

          Thirty years ago, I moved into my freshman dorm  room.  Not long afterwards, I noticed a small thermostat above my bed.  I really didn’t pay attention to it; I figured it probably was standard equipment in all of the rooms.  A few months later, it became a bit cooler. Understand, of course, that cooler in Southern California is relative.  It means that it dipped below 65 degrees momentarily one evening.  Immediately, someone began pounding on my door.  “Dude!  Dude! Turn up the heat!”  Well, those are not exactly the words he said. But it’s close enough.   I got the message.  I wasn’t free to do whatever I wanted.  For some reason, I was the steward of the heat.  Believe me, there’s nothing like an angry hall of college guys wanting heat on a cool night to help you get the message.  From that moment on, whenever a slight breeze would chill the air, I got the message.  I was the steward. I began to see things differently.

          We trade our bondage, says Paul, in order to become slaves of each other.  We become the stewards of grace, servants of each other.   And our freedom becomes most real as we love each other.  Amen.       

"Messy Church"
Acts 2:1-21, Psalm 104
Pentecost Sunday, May 23, 2010

A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

            Churches, of course, have distinct personalities. When I was little, our family attended a large downtown church in Rochester, NY.  Much of the church's personality stemmed from its music ministry - Sunday after Sunday, the congregation gathered around the organist to hear each note of his postlude instead of heading out the doors for coffee.  Some churches are known for being centers of caring,  others for their spiritual teaching. Other churches are known for their mission projects-and by the way, let  me tell you that you raised more than $1000 last evening in our dessert auction, all of it to be sent in support of Terri Rider's mission.  

            If you stuck around to the end of last evening's activities, then you know that we are known for the way we clean up.  I have always been impressed by the willingness of everyone to pitch in following an event.  You know how to fold tables, stack chairs and wash dishes better than any congregation I know.  As the chairs were coming in last night, someone noticed that the legs were caked in that famous West County mud.  Buckets and rags were located, and in good Presbyterian style, you set about wiping mud off the legs of the chairs.  No one had to be recruited, no one signed up in advance for that job, we just looked at what needed to be done, and we got down to doing it.  Some churches are known for the pretty buildings, some known for their preaching, but here at Woodlawn, we're known for the way we deal with mess.

            In fact, I propose that the church fathers may have gotten it wrong.  Instead of one, holy, apostolic and catholic church, we ought to say: one holy mess!

            Several years ago, on a cold and wet winter morning, we had a guest speaker - I can't remember who it was or why they were here - whose car got stuck in the mud in the yard.  For some reason, Ed Zumwinkel and Christie Wright were near the stranded driver.  Because we know how to deal with messes, they offered to help. The driver kept spinning the wheels, digging deeper ruts into the ground and of course going nowhere.  The more she gunned the engine, the deeper the ruts became. She was going nowhere-and fast.  But Ed and Christie stayed with the speaker, trying to free her car...and in the process got covered with mud.  I don't mean a little sprinkle here and there. Ed's suit, and I think it was one of the only suits he owned at the time, was covered in mud. He looked like a cartoon figure arising out of a swamp.  Cold, wet and now covered with mud, both Ed and Christie cheered as the driver was eventually liberated from her parking space and sent on her way.  I smile when I think of that story and remember it as a parable of faith. We're known for the way we deal with messes.

            And if that is so, then I'd say we're in good company.  Read the story of what happened on Pentecost and look at how messy things were.  The story of the disciples after Jesus' ascension is hardly a story of a well greased machine.   As Duke divinity Professor Jo Bailey Wells says, "we might suggest the central administration was less impressive....they lack vision and direction. Their membership has encountered some flux and there is no clear unity of purpose except to follow the instruction from Jesus to wait."

            And on Pentecost, it gets really messy: a gale force wind blows through their building, tongues of fire touch down on people's heads, and suddenly all Jerusalem sounds like the United Nations during lunch hour.  No wonder bystanders were scratching their heads, asking, "What's going on here?" and others assumed the whole group was drunk.

            Compared to that, wiping mud off chairs seems like child's play!

            We're a messy church, says Peter.  A messy church explodes with energy and compassion.  A messy church is on fire with joy and deep hope.  A messy church is a church whose members are deeply connected to each other.  They speak, quite literally, each other's language.  The church listens and understands, and in so doing proclaims God's word.  These people aren't drunk, says Peter. No, they are a messy church, a church filled with the unpredictability of the Holy Spirit, a church where our sons and daughters prophesy, and where the elderly dream dreams.  They are filled with those who serve and those who speak, those who cry out for help, and those willing to lend a hand to anyone stuck in the mud.  Long before we knew about chaos theory,  the Spirit came to the disciples.  The Spirit poured God's power of love and grace on a world that was hurting, bring comfort to a messy world.  A messy community was born-not a neat organization with lines of authority and hierarchy, but a community of lives blended together by the story of God's love.

            As I read through the memories we have collected, the story of our lives, it became clear to me that  we are indeed that sort of church.  Sometime, we will weave these into a longer narrative, but let me share with you the highlights:  among those who have been here more than a dozen years, you have seen pets blessed in the mud, and kids who have run around the sanctuary on Christmas Eve. We are a church where the fire alarm has been known to go off during weddings, with the wedding guild ladies rushing around to find a key. We are a church where a delightful child once cried, "blah, blah, blah" in response to what I thought was one of my finer homiletical points, and a church that once served grape kool-aid for communion because there was no grape juice to be found.

            Yet as a messy church, we are also involved in sharing the good news in our messy world.  "Dear brothers and sisters in Christ," the letter begins.  "My 13 year old daughter and I came to  Saint Louis Children's hospital all the way from Florida so she could have spinal surgery.  We have been away from our family (three boys and a dad) for three weeks now. Your  Mother's Day bag was so precious...everything in it has been very much needed and used, especially the chocolate.  Your love for our Savior was felt along with the delivery.  Thank you very, very much, Elaine King."

            You see, what happened that Pentecost day in Jerusalem, also happened again here in this place in June, 1990.  Let me tell you that story again, or rather, let me allow you to share that story again, in case you have forgotten it, or never knew it, or yearn to hear it again.  On that day, as God moved among those brave charter members, the Spirit hovered over that new community.   The Spirit brought joy out of chaos and meaning out of the mess of each other's lives.  The steering committee for this new church decided to try an unconventional-some might say "messy" approach - and used a telephone marketing company to help identify prospective members.  "Many of us," says one member, "myself included were very skeptical of doing such a thing.  We said it will NEVER work.  We can't do this.  But we made 300 phone calls and contacts and were told if  1% of those people contacted would attend it would be a success.  We had 350 in that first service.  On that day we chartered the church, we had 35 people baptized on one day. I felt the spirit moving that entire process."

Yes, we are a messy church, but listen to see if you hear the whisper of the Spirit in these memories:

• I was surrounded by friends and support during the illness of my mother;
• I knew God's presence as I journeyed through divorce, and always felt a welcome here.
• I have felt the Spirit move many times through the prayers of the women's Bible study; they have come together over the years to support each other and the rest of the congregation and community in so many ways. It was surely the Spirit that has made it all possible.
• My friend called the Woodlawn prayer chain as we were taking our son to the Emergency Room.
• The Spirit moved in our committee when it came time to write a mission statement, and the words just poured out.
• I had surgery soon after joining Woodlawn. The congregation members were so kind to me and my family. Food arrived and our refrig and freezer were filled to overflowing.
• The church steeped in to feed myy family and pray for my recovery;
• The 911 service, with everyone standing on the lawn, holding hands and lighting candles with sad hearts.
• The outpouring of support and love, food and help that we experienced when we were caring for a terminally ill parent in our home was amazing. Nowhere could we have found the love and support that we received from our Church Family. From meals being brought to us, to the ever-present shoulder to cry on... our Church Family stood by us. We are truly blessed to be part of such a group. It has inspired us to be better friends to others as we continue to pay-forward God's Love.
• I attended an adult education class, where we each had to describe how we felt about attending church that morning. I was amazed to see that others felt frazzled, or irritated, or hurried...
  The most wonderful welcome I've ever received was my first Sunday here. I feel the Spirit with me every day.
• The first time we visited and heard the congregation sing, "We are Standing on Holy Ground." Truly I knew there were angels all around.

Yes, we can be a messy church at times.  We love to eat, everything from jambalaya to Mississippi Mud cakes.  We get muddy and sometimes things can feel chaotic.  But in that chaos, the Spirit is moving among us.  We trust in the love which has been poured into our hearts, and our lives are full of grace.

Some years ago, a little boy wandered into the sanctuary unattended while his mom was in a meeting.  He was armed with a single Sharpie marker.  At some point, he found the baptismal font-it must have towered inches above his head.  Standing on tiptoes, he used his Sharpie to write his name in perfect 4-year old handwriting on the sides.   His mother, of course, was aghast.  Horrified, she made him apologize to me in writing and then brought him up to church on Saturday to work with his father in erasing his name.   Of course they did the right thing - but it occurs to me that from a theological standpoint, the little guy had it right.  For here in this place, new light is streaming, new joys are coming.  Here in this messy place, God's Spirit has written our name on this font---and in our hearts.  This is the word of the Lord! 

Catching Fish & Living Boldly: #3 "New Directions"
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Acts 11:1-18

John 13:31-35

Peter narrates a story of God's power unleashed in the world, calling the church to practice as well as preach the liberating, empowering love of God which truly knows no partiality.

            I got caught in a theological debate the other evening.

            It wasn't in a classroom, however-it was at a Chinese take-out restaurant.

            The other night, in pouring rain, I went out to buy some take-out Chinese food for dinner.   The is small, and the ambiance suggests that they're not terribly concerned with earning a Mobil Five Stat award.  They only accept cash or checks - no credit or debit cards.  So, I ordered my food and wrote out a check-who writes checks anymore?  I handed the owner my check and he looked at it and then back at me.  "Oh! Rev. Keating? Are you a pastor?"  I now faced a moral dilemma: I was really hungry.    The rain was blowing  hard. I didn't  want to go somewhere else, so I swallowed hard and ‘fessed up "Yes, I'm a pastor."  The man's face lit up immediately. Instantly, he was animated.  He slammed my check into the cash register, pounded his fist on the counter and said, "So what do you think about the Catholic church?"   His eyes were unblinking. I mumbled something about "well, all denominations have their problems," but he could hardly let me finish.   "Problems?"  he said.  "They have more than little problems."  And then he used an expletive - a word we have come to associate with  Senate committee meetings.  He kept on cursing, ranting and raving about the problems of abuse in the Catholic church.  I began to figure out that perhaps he had a few issues with the Catholic church!  The funny thing is that the more he became agitated, the more I wanted my Mongolian beef and egg rolls!  Hoping to calm him down I said, "Well, I'm Presbyterian."  That didn't help.  The egg rolls were not the only thing sizzling at this point.  He was not deterred.  He drove the conversation into a full-blown list of solutions for solving the problem of child abuse.  I can't describe what he said, but I had to give him a few points for at least being creative.  Finally, after ranting and raving for several minutes, he relaxed a bit. He looked at my order. "Do you want any sauce?" I was afraid to answer.  "Whatever you have is fine with me."   He disappeared for a few minutes, and the store got quiet again. In a bit he returned with my order. I held my hand out but he kept holding the bag.  Obviously, he had something else on his mind.  This theological debate wasn't over as far as he was concerned.  Well, actually it was more of a monologue than a debate.   Hold my dinner in his hand he said, "So, what do you think about the second coming of Christ?"

            At that point, I would have been delighted if our Lord had arrived, provided  I got to eat my dinner first!   As I left the store, I was mentally making a note to begin carrying more cash, and I heard him say, "I really enjoyed our conversation!"

            Heading back home in the rain, I began to try to make sense of the encounter.  What was on his mind mattered to him, and it mattered deeply. He was full of questions. Questions about God, theological questions about the mistreatment of children, the abuse of religious power, questions about the interpretation of scripture.  I don't lift him up in order to criticize the Catholic church-every religious institution has had its share of scandal. The point I'm making is this:  what he was really was asking about were questions about God's power and way of being in the world.  What I sense he was struggling with is a question of what does it mean to believe in a God of resurrection. To have belief in God in a world of uncertainties pushes us all a bit.  His questions are probably our questions: what does it mean to worship a God who cares about the world, a God  who brings about newness, a God who offers hope? What does it mean to believe in a powerful God when innocent children suffer?

            Yesterday morning, as news about the latest tragedy to face members of our congregation spread, I began hearing from people who raised similar questions.  "What does it mean to have faith in the face of adversity?" one asked me. Another said, "I'm not terribly happy with God at the moment."  Another asked, "How are you all holding on?"  All of us have been touched by these events, and please know that throughout our Presbytery and denomination, prayers are offered on our behalf as a congregation, a

nd certainly for the families involved.  The world changes, and we're left wondering about the power of God.

            I took those prayers and concerns with me as I looked again at the story of Peter in Acts.  I do not believe I am reading too much into this incredible story to say that it leads us to ask questions about the way God is at work in the world.  Here is a story that raises profound questions about God, power, and change.  This story leads the church in new directions, even as it asks us today this question: What does it mean to believe in God when everything is changing?

I'll be honest.  There are no easy answers.   Cheap optimism is not the answer, and as my former theology professor Dan Migliore says, "living in hope is difficult."  Yet notice how Peter confronts these same questions in this story.  The story offers us a pivotal moment in the early church's life. The reality of the resurrection has pushed the apostles into action.  Their preaching of Easter has led to the conversion of thousands, and the church is expanding.  But up to now this has been an "in-house" experience. Only Jews have been included in the message the apostles' have been preaching.  Until now.  Until now the enterprise has been limited to a relatively tight circle of people from somewhat similar backgrounds.  But then Peter experience's God's call in a rooftop dream, and he is led to the home of Cornelius, a Roman centurion.  There Peter shares the story of Jesus, and witnesses the power of the Holy Spirit coming upon this family.  Now everything changes, and  Peter is left wondering about the power of God.  

            Everything changes-and by everything I mean thousands of years of rules and religious practices.  These divides are as deep as we can imagine.  Everything changes, and now Peter must begin to learn what it means to live according to the new commandment Jesus had left them. Everything changes-and suddenly the church is led in new directions.

            When everything changes, the anxiety mounts. Questions surface: has God heard our prayers?

            Back in Jerusalem, the leaders were upset at what they'd heard.  For generations, the lines between Gentiles and Jews were defined and clear.  Now Peter has crossed that boundary, and the believers were stirred up and anxious, filled with questions.  When Peter comes home, they call him into a meeting. They try to pick a fight with him, but Peter has changed.  Peter has witnessed the power of God at work in these new believers.  Peter, as Acts tells us, has remembered what God has said.

            Everything changes, but the Word of God endures. Peter remembers Jesus gathering them at the table. In the midst of his own suffering, Jesus had said, "Here is a new commandment: love one another as I loved you." Peter remembers how Jesus had told them he would suffer, and be raised again. Peter remembers seeing the Risen Lord.  Peter remembers the words, "I am with you always." One scholar puts it this way: the Greek word for memory is also related to the word for "tomb," a place where memories are kept.

            Peter remembers, and so do we.  We remember that the power of God is unleashed through God's suffering love.  We remember that, in the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "only the suffering God can save us."  We would do well to remember that. We would do well to remember that God's heart broke at the death of his own Son.  We remember, that even in the midst of our sometimes confusing and often chaotic lives, where everything seems to be changing, God is still present.   We remember that when we try to divide people into groups of "clean" and "unclean," God has erased those divisions.  God calls the church to go beyond boundaries. We remember that God goes with us on the journey.

            With Peter, we ask, "Who am I that I could hinder God?  

            In Jerusalem, they had lots of questions. Notice, however, how Peter engages their questions. He leads them to a place where they can imagine what God is doing. Instead of debating, instead of fighting, he tells them a story.  He helped look at the opportunity, he encouraged them to see, to imagine.  He did not debate, but instead he told a story-a story that opened their eyes to what God was doing. 

            In a world where everything has changed, where boundaries are moving, where our lives are full of questions, we would do well to remember...to look, to see, to imagine.  And then, like the apostles, we may well sit in silence until together we proclaim, "God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life."  Friends in Christ, let us love one another, for this is the Word of the Lord, thanks be to God.  Amen.

A sermon by Jerry Chang

I remember, when I first come to this country, I was attending a language school at a large state university in Illinois. It was not a totally new experience to me to live in a different country, but I prepared myself for the cultural shock and enjoyed the new things. Quickly, I found out that there was a big shopping center in the town. 

When I walked into the department store, the endless retailer shelves with merchandise in a big open space that provide almost everything for people’s needs and wants. I recall that impression, which was a big shock to me, and it, was a good one. The department store was doing a very good business. A couple of business slogans such as “Always Low Price” or something like “100% Satisfaction Guarantee” attracted many people to dig deep into their pocket.      

The shopping centers and stores provide for our many needs, hope, wishes, and desires. But each needs, hope, wishes, and desires is quickly replaced by a new one. It is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ who can truly satisfy our emptiness, desperation and passion for fulfillment. 

Psalm 23, is one of the most familiar passage in the whole Bible. It portrays God as a living shepherd who provides loving care to God’s people. The powerful words in 23^rd Psalm touch many hearts in our countless worship services and pastoral situations both churches and hospitals. Our God is not only for the living and the departed, but also for each of us and our daily lives. 

The opening verse says “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”. Many biblical scholars suggest that in today’s consumer-oriented society that passage is better translated as “I shall lack nothing”. God’s provision is focused upon our need as God’s children not our wants or desires as human beings. God seeks our relationship and wants to provide for that relationship so that he maybe closer to us. 

Today, our Young Family Ministry is inviting you to participate in Woodlawn Chapel Kids Store. We are gathering these resources and donations for the Joint Neighborhood Ministry to show the community our care and love. Just as God provides for us, we are called to provide for our neighbors. 

As God’s sheep, we do not need to worry about our lives. God also accompanies us in the times of trauma and our final fulfillment. Psalm 23 and Jesus affirms our relationship with God in John 10 provide such assurance that as God’s sheep, we ultimately will be like a child at home in God’s house and have unity with God’s eternal presence. Regarding Rev. Keating’s latest letter to us, Woodlawn Chapel has participated in varying degrees in the grief faced by Debbie, Merrill and Barb’s families and friends and many others who have suffered for various reasons. May God’s Word once again comfort us in sorrows, while we hear the promises and assurance of eternal joys. 

When a medical diagnosis comes with a panic, bewilderment, where we can we seek the rod and staff of comfort? When our emotion is so deeply distressed by our grief and loss, who has the ultimate goodness and mercy for us? My current experience in hospital chaplaincy is allowing me to learn from many patients in various pastoral situations. Some patients are hanging on to hope through a serious Illness. In the moment of anger and helplessness it’s hard to find the meaning of illness and it’s hard to listen for the voice of God; we almost think that God is an ambush God. For God told us that God prepares a table before us in the presence of our disasters. God has been preparing for good! 

If this is making sense to you that good can come from suffering, in the same promise, by facing death we can learn how to live. A short story told by Henry Van Dyke that maybe helps us to understand the meanings of death: 

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.

 Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!” there are Other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!” 

This is how we are dying! We approach death in our own way, bringing to this last experience our own uniqueness. To answer plainly this ultimate matter of human life Jesus Christ, assured that for us: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I gave them eternal life, and they will never perish”. To be God’s sheep even we look sheepish, we can have grief in hope and dying in the promise. Listen to the voice of our shepherd! We will soon be together in the house of God eternally!

"Catching Fish & Loving Boldly: Discovering What We're Called To Do!"
#2 "Stretching Out Your Hand"
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Acts 9:1-9
John 21:15-19

A sermon preached at Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church by Rev. Dr. Chris Keating  

The smell of breakfast lingered in the air. I'll warn you, though: it's not pancakes and coffee, it's fish roasting on sticks. Jesus set aside the remains of the fish he had prepared for the disciples that morning on the beach, and the sun began to rise in the sky. Greeting them in their grief and disappointment, he has fed them. He stood on the shore and welcomed them back from a night of catching nothing. At first they were shocked and amazed, but now it is all full stomachs and smiles. The fish stories are flying as the tension of the past few weeks fades to sheer joy. Gone is the ugliness of the days leading up to Easter. Gone is the fear of being arrested; gone the pain of abandonment; gone the mixed feelings of separation. Jesus was alive-just look at the feast he had cooked for them on the beach.

That's the early seen in the scripture today: Jesus alive, and well. The memories of all he had done and taught them flood the disciples' minds. The Lord is risen, and all has changed. Now is the time for telling resurrection stories.

Episcopalian priest Barbara Brown Taylor shares a story about sharing communion with patients in a nursing home. It is, she writes, "one of the hardest things I do because I sometimes doubt the power of the sacrament to break through their fog." One time, she stood in the day room of a nursing home, surrounded by wheel chair bound patients yelling and vocalizing in strange and often bizarre ways. The staff warned her that medications were wearing off, which should have been a clue that something was wrong. One woman began to sing, "Row, row, row your boat" as loud as she could, while others moaned, "Get me out of here!" "In a bid for attention," writes Taylor, "I clapped my hands and asked from them to choose the gospel lesson for the day. " "What shall I read from the Bible this afternoon? What would you like to hear? The commotion lessoned long enough for one old woman's voice to be heard above it. "Tell us a resurrection story," she said. The room became quiet and still. "Yes," someone else said, and then someone else, "Yes, tell us a resurrection story."

Yes, Jesus - tell us a resurrection story. Tell us a story of God's triumphant hope. Tell us a story of how grief and despair have been overcome. Tell us a story of resurrection, because we are a broken, hurting people.

Resurrection stories grab our attention; make us stop fishing on the wrong side of the boat. It's the third Sunday after Easter, and still we long to hear the story of our faith. Resurrection stories even have a certain scent to them...they smell of newness and life, of hope, of daffodils and spring, of breakfast on a beach. As a child, I remember running through the laundry my mom had hung on the clothesline to dry on a cool spring day. The linens and sheets smelled clean, fresh. The blew in the wind and captured out attention, like sails on a ship. Winter has gone, and the windows are open...that is what resurrection smells like. Resurrection stories call out to us like that: they are bold and blowing, fresh smelling and full of hope.

That's how it seemed back on the beach. Even when breakfast was over, hope, joy and the deep peace of God abounded. A few of the disciples shook their heads in disbelief, and perhaps an eye or two peered at the gaping scars on Jesus' body. It was a paradox beyond all explanation. It felt good to be there, good to be alive, good to be with Jesus, but the signs of brokenness were still present. The disciples bask in the glory of this resurrection story, until Jesus rises to deal with some unfinished business.

As John recounts the story, there's still a bit of unfinished business between Jesus and Peter. So not long after breakfast, Jesus looks at Peter as if to say, "I'd like a word." Suddenly, the group gets quiet, very quiet. A pit the size of a large orange grows in Peter's stomach. Thaddeus and James give each other a look as Jesus nods toward Simon "Hey, Peter," says Jesus, "do you have a moment?" It's not a pretty scene: Jesus stands there, scars exposed, waiting.

Three times Peter denied Jesus. Three times he avoided taking the risk of faith, of standing for Jesus. Three times Peter's fears held him captive. Three times the one called the Rock turned to slippery clay. Now, three times Jesus asks Peter if he loves him. Three times Jesus waits for an answer.

Yes, this is a resurrection story, but this is a resurrection story draped by brokenness. There is joy, but there are also scars. There is excitement, but also the anxiety of reconciliation. There is inner joy, but also a call to deeper commitment. It is not just Jesus' scars and brokenness that are visible: Peter, too, is broken. He stands in need of Jesus' love and forgiveness, a reminder that in this resurrection story, we are invited us to recover our own love for Christ. There, on the beach, Christ meets the disciples. There, he feeds their emptiness and stands with them in their grief; there, on the beach, he restores them and invites them to follow.

Yes, tell us a story of resurrection! Tell us that story of God's restoring, renewing hope. Tell us how Jesus stands with us in our brokenness. Tell us a story that invites us to take risks in faith and to act boldly in our loving. Tell us a story of God's new world! Tell us that story.

Jesus isn't acting like a celebrity, fishing for faint praise. Nor is he trying to condemn Peter for his brokenness. Instead, he is telling the story of resurrection faith, guiding Peter toward a faith shaped by the Resurrection. He brings him back into the community, calls him to stretch out his hand in love and faith - even to go places he does not wish to go. That is a faith that demonstrates risk and acts boldly. That is the faith that will cause him to welcome Gentiles, to embrace those he had been taught to believe where unclean. That is the grace that will bring healing to the broken places of his life. That is the faith that will empower him to receive the converted Paul as a brother...and it is the faith you and I are called to discover today.

That is the question John poses for us. "Who is this Christ, and what does he expect of me?" Sixty-six years ago, theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer sat in a Nazi prison cell, condemned to die because he had dared to confess the living Christ. His belief in the resurrection cost him his life, but before it did, he dared to pose a question Christians of every generation should consider: "Who is Christ, really, for us today?"

It can be dangerous to ask that question. It is a dangerous question because it open new possibilities for us, calling us to take risks in love. It reminds us of how lavishly God has loved us. It is a question that guides us in our mission, as individuals and as a church. It reminds us of the depth of God's love for us-but then leads us understand that our calling is to share that love. It is a question that sends some to India, some to food pantries, some to their kitchens to make casseroles for others. It is always a question that invites us to open our hands, to stretch them in love.

Jesus turns to Peter, and to us, and says, "Follow me!"

What does Christ mean to us today? The answer, I believe, is found in recalling that Peter, broken as he was, a man who had fished all night for nothing, was called to follow. Jesus asks him to feed his sheep, and to follow in faith. For once you have heard the resurrection story, you know that you have been called to follow.

So listen for Christ's call in your life. I invite you to imagine you are holding three envelopes. Each one is marked, "Feed My Sheep." Think about those envelopes, and what it means for you to follow the risen Christ today as I tell you these stories:

Inside envelope number one is an invitation to feed our neighbors in need. A few days ago, I ran into Glenn Koenan, the director of Circle of Concern in Valley Park. Circle is our community charity. He was enthusiastic and energized as he told me, sadly, that Circle has already given out more food in the first 15 days of April than they had planned for the entire month. Their requests for financial assistance were up 94% in March. A few week's ago, I talked with Joan Hensley, the director of Joint Neighborhood Ministries in the city of Saint Louis. She told a similar story, except to add that Joint Neighborhood had run out of money, and was paying its small staff on its reserve funds.

Christ said, "feed my lambs."

Now imagine you are opening envelope number two. Actually, this envelope can be found inside the fellowship pads today. This envelope is an invitation to participate in our Mother's Day Gift of Hope offering. These gifts go out in your name to children who are hurting. These hospitalized lambs of Christ receive these gifts from you and then give them to their mom's on mother's day. These gifts go out, they are shared with other's on your behalf, regardless of whether or not you choose to contribute.

Jesus said, "tend my sheep."

Inside the third envelope is a personal invitation from Christ. I will let you think about what it says. It could say, "I invite you to offer yourself." It could be an invitation to participate in mission, or to share a gift or talent with the church. It could be an invitation to come sing in our choir, or sponsor a kid to go to camp. It might just say, "feed my sheep." But it is for you. It is Christ's gift for you, so take it and listen for Jesus to say, "Follow me."

At our house, the buds on our iris plants are nearly open. I remember how on the first day of Sunday School in September, we passed around bags of iris rhizomes. Iris are wonderful symbols of faith: they grow quietly, appearing at times to be dormant. But as the ground warms, they break through. Their shoots reach toward the spring sun, their blooms bursting with possibility, exploding in colors. They grow in bad soil, and even an average gardener can get spectacular results. They keep growing, multiplying over the years. And as their stalks shoot up, their flowers stretch out, it is nearly a parable of resurrection, a story that says, "Follow me!" Amen.

Galatians 5:22-26

A Wedding Homily for Molly & Ryan

Saturday, July 19, 2009 

The Biggest Question

By Rev. Chris Keating 

          OK, so you’ve made it this far!  You’ve survived the fast lane of cross-country wedding planning.  All the anxiety-ridden moments of searching for the right dresses, flowers, meals, tuxedoes—all that is over.   You have made it to this place—and the good news is that credit card bills aren’t due for another month!

          So much about your relationship so far has been a series of questions, such as “Is that really the guy that used to work with me at Peppers?”  “Will she go out with me?” “Is he the one?”  “Will you follow me all the way to California?” “Do our parents get along?” “Can we make it?” And, of course, the really big question that Molly you had to answer before we got to this place: “Will my dog accept him?”

          In a moment, you will answer more questions.  Here’s the thing: the questions will keep coming from this moment forward.  There will always be questions.  Questions about where you’re going to live. Questions about what paths you’ll pursue.  Questions about your relationships with family.  Questions about children, health, finance, God, and so much more.    There will always be questions—even where there doesn’t seem to be many answers.

          And today, the biggest question you have to answer is not: “Do you love me?” You already know that.  We know it—we can see it in the way you look at each other, the way you trust each other, the way you count on each other.  No, the biggest question you must answer comes to us from scripture: are you willing to be led by the Spirit of God?

          Paul leads us to this question.  He is not, of course, writing to a couple in love; he is writing about a group of Christians who are filled with envy, jealousness, anger and strife.  They are constantly arguing and fighting with each other.  They’ve forgotten how to care for each other, and become consumed with pursuing their individuality. And so he warns them: those who pursue this sort of path in life won’t inherit the kingdom of God.

          Paul reminds us that in the roller coasters of life, it isn’t always easy to keep on loving each other. It is easy to begin thinking only about our own individual needs. Yet a life led by the Spirit says Paul brings forth a harvest of good fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness.  It happens as we allow ourselves to be guided by the Spirit. 

          Ryan and Molly, led by the Spirit, you have found each other in God’s providence. Led by the Spirit, you have pursued career paths against many odds.  Led by the Spirit, you are now ready to promise yourselves to each other.  Life will be filled with many questions. There will be moments of great joy, and more than likely some hard times, too.  Led by the Spirit, you will find in each other strength, hope, and faith.  You’ll discover new paths.  You’ll find God’s grace to encourage you.  As you awaken each day, look into each other’s eyes.  See the joy that is there.  Know the generosity that is blooming.  Trust that you belong, body and soul, to Jesus Christ…and be willing to be guided that day by the Holy Spirit.

          Singer Gary Chapman has said that so much of his life resembles a big roller coaster. “Each morning,” he writes, “I get out of bed and commit to keep my arms and legs inside the ride at all times.  I ask God to carry me through the laughs and the screams, the exhilaration and the horrow that I know from experience is waiting for me. Each evening, I climb out exhausted and thrilled to have completed the ride one more time.  I sleep in peace, knowing tomorrow I’ll get back on the ride…my ride.  Locked into place, I’ll throw my hands in the air, feel the wind in my face, and trust.  I will trust the One who designed both me and the ride to take me through the ups and downs, round and round one more time.”

          So, here you are, standing in front of the  biggest, most gigantic Six Flags’ roller coaster you can imagine. Go ahead, and get in. Allow the Spirit to guide you. And whatever you do, do everything in the name of our Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.  Amen.

"Shining In Heaven"
Lamentations 3:17-23
Matthew 18:1-5, 10

A Witness to the Resurrection and celebration of the Life of

Merrill James Woods, Jr.

By Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church, April 9, 2010

          Just a few days ago we were getting ready for Easter.   Spring had finally come to Saint Louis - the trees were blooming,  the dreary gray of winter had been upgraded to the Technicolor blooms of spring, and life was good.    Saturday, the sun was shining and it was a great day for paint ball, or hanging out with friends.  That's how Merrill and a few of his old friends did: they got together  just like they always had...it was a great time like all the hundreds of great times they'd enjoyed before...laughing and hanging out - just like the hundreds more everyone thought you would have again.

          But when Tuesday arrived, our world changed. It was just a few days after that glorious Easter weekend-a time when friends laughed and hung out, a time that seemed like it could go on forever...but in a matter of moments, all of our lives changed forever.  Today, we stand on the other side of Easter, and we are confronted by the tragic loss of Merrill's life and dreams.  We are confused and hurting.  As the news of Merrill and Matt's horrible accident, it was like an arrow was shot into all of our hearts, piercing us with grief.  To paraphrase the scripture James just read, we knew we were bereft of peace; we had forgotten what happiness was, and we could all say with Merrill's sudden death, "Gone is our glory."

          Listen again to these loud cries of a soul tormented by grief:

          I have forgotten what happiness is; so I  say, "Gone is my glory, and all that I had hoped for from the Lord...my soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me."  (Lamentations 3:17-23)

          Of course everyone is allowed to grieve differently, but,  perhaps that is how you feel today.   

          You may feel angry, disappointed, wounded, sad beyond words - and if you do, then let me suggest that God feels that way today, and that God invites us to embrace another reality.  On the other side of Easter is not just tragedy, but resurrection.  On the other side of Merrill's death is not just the emptiness we feel, but the fullness of who he was to each of you. We come to surround each other in love and prayer and to celebrate the completion of his journey.  Let us say good bye to Merrill - but let us do it in faith, remembering that before he was ours, Merrill was God's.  Before he was our child, he was God's precious one.  Before he was our friend, our brother, our son, grandson-he belonged, body and soul to God, and we can celebrate today the hope that comes from standing on the other side of Easter.

          So we remember that Merrill, or Snugg, or "Cuz," was a crazy, funny child of God.  He had attended Chesterfield Elementary School, Wildwood Middle, and Eureka High School.  He was a talented musician - he played trumpet and piano, and held a prized place in the trumpet section at Wildwood Middle School band for three years.  He was an incredible athlete: there wasn't a sport he couldn't play or didn't try: he loved baseball and football, he played basketball at Eureka, and could hardly wait for those winter days of snowboarding in Hidden Valley. 

          Merrill held a few things especially close to his heart: his family was incredibly important to him.  Merrill was blessed with two families, but they were one in his heart.  He spoke in loving ways of how important his grandmother, mother,  his brothers Josh and Jasper, aunts, uncle and cousins were to him.  And we know how much love and joy he shared with Dave and Kathy in Wildwood, or down on the farm.  Merrill's heart was a bridge between two worlds, and by his life he taught us all how to accept, love, and heal the divisions that are often so present in our world.  And what may be especially hard for us today is to know that some of the dreams Merrill had for his life, like serving in the United States Marine Corps., are not going to happen...but the dream of  his laugh, the dream of his love...the dreams he shared with us will never die.

          Today, as we gather all these memories, we keep reading those verses from Lamentations... the writer also has memories of bitterness and grief, but then there's something else.  "But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning, great is your faithfulness."

          Great is God's faithfulness-and great was the gift God has given us in Merrill...and that's why we held candles on Wednesday night, and that's why we come today...because we do stand on the other side of Easter, and we know that together we can find healing...together we stand on the other side of Easter, and we  know the great faithfulness of God.

          Some years back, a little boy walked through those doors one shining summer morning.  It was Vacation Bible School, and Katie Norvell was up here singing songs.  Out of the Norvell's minivan bounced John and James who were barely awake, as usual.  But this day there was someone else who was with them.  Merrill hadn't been staying with the Norvells that long when they came to VBS that day.   Our former children's ministry coordinator, Deb Brandenberg, says it best: he was terrified.  And you, I learned two things about Merrill that day: he had a smile that could warm your heart in an instant, and two, boy could he be stubborn! Did you know that about him?

          Understandably, Merrill was unsure about coming in the door that day.  Here were a bunch of kids he didn't know in a church he had never attended...what on earth was going on?  But as the week went on, he warmed up - he began to sing the songs.  He played the games, and by Friday - all of us had been greeted by  that sly, playful smile of his.   Merrill could win over a whole room of VBS ladies with that smile!

          It was that smile that stayed with us. He was active in youth group and Sunday School, and always was amused at the way a room full of white folks would try to sing a Gospel song during church! Merrill's sense of humor was enormous.  He might not say much in church, but every now and then, he'd smile and say something and he and John and James would be laughing.  You could see the smile when he was snow boarding, or hanging out with friends.  You could see that smile when he joined the church a few year's ago.  And even when things got tough - and he knew that life could be hard - Merrill still found a way to let God's grace shine in his life - great is God's faithfulness.

          Merrill was not just a wonderful son, grandson, brother, a loving cousin-but he was the most incredible friend you could imagine having.    Merrill was the quintessential host - he was always trying to make sure everyone was having a good time.  He'd go around at parties and wouldn't settle down until he knew that everyone was having a good time.  Jesus said the same thing when he held up a small child and told everyone that true greatness comes not from seeking your own good but from caring for others.  "Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom  of heaven," Jesus said.  He added, "Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I tell you, in heave their angels continually see the  face of my Father in heaven."

          In other words, go out of your way to care for others. Merrill saw that sort of love modeled around him by his family.  When he came to live with the Norvells, they reminded all of their boys to work hard on their manners so that they wouldn't need to go to "etiquette school."  Now Merrill heard that differently - he thought it was "extra book" school, and so scared was he of going to "extra school," that he really did work extra hard on his  manners!  He worked hard at home, always taking on hard jobs like splitting wood or cleaning the house.  I imagine he knew that the depth of love with which both his families showered on him had come from the depth of God's love.  And he knew that true greatness didn't come from being a star, but from being a great friend, a person who never despises those around him.

          True greatness, says Jesus, is what causes your face to shine on God in heaven.  Great is God's faithfulness, and for that we give thanks.  Amen. 

By Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

Easter Sunday, April 4, 2010

Like the women who encountered the empty tomb, we are invited to faithfully move from fear and grief to endless joy and deep faith in believing that Jesus has been raised.

            Here's an idle tale for you.

            A rather meek and mild man died and appeared before St. Peter at the pearly gates.  St. Peter didn't look particularly impressed.  He scanned the man's dossier and then peered at him over his reading glasses. "Have you ever done anything of particular merit?" St. Peter asked. "Well, I can think of one thing," the man offered. "Once, at a highway rest stop, I came upon a gang of huge, leather-clad bikers who were threatening a young woman.  I marched up to them and told them to leave her alone, but they wouldn't listen. So, I went up to the largest and most heavily tattooed biker.  I smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring, and threw it on the ground. ‘Now, back off!!' I yelled ‘Or you'll answer to me!'"  St. Peter was impressed: "When did this happen?" "Oh, Just a couple of minutes ago."

            An idle tale, a bunch of nonsense...utter idiocy...that's how Easter begins in the gospel today.

            Nowadays, we could have expected lines of paparazzi waiting to get a photo of Jesus' ascent from the tomb.  We would be waiting for the Roman guards to complete their analysis of security camera footage before releasing a statement.  We'd be watching as the medical examiners collected DNA evidence, and as the Roman soldiers spread yellow crime scene tape.  We would be huddled around computer terminals reading Twitter updates from @Peter or #RisenLord, waiting for Jesus' Facebook update.  Our eyes would be glued to breaking news reports on cable channels,  trying to make sense of what had happened.

            But the truth is there was no hype that first Easter morning. There were no handlers passing out press releases.  There were no lines of reporters yelling questions, or photographers vying for the best shot, no impressive sound and light shows for the audience.  In fact, the way Luke recounts the story, there is nothing to make this sound like the joyous Easter we have come to expect.  Unlike Matthew, there is no mighty earthquake, no shock and awe, no splitting of the rocks.  John includes an emotional reunion between Mary and the Lord, but in Luke, even Jesus is absent this Easter morning.  Dead or alive, he's nowhere to be found.   It really does sound more like gossip and utter nonsense than gospel truth. 

            "But these words seemed to them to an idle tale, and they did not believe them."

            You know what that means? It means those who heard the women  dismissed their experiences as utter foolishness.  I mean, though death is painful and filled with grief, it is nonetheless a predictable process.   A death is a death, and then it is all over.

            Those women, the crowd murmurs under their breath, they're mistaken. Foolish, grieving.

            But the tomb was empty.  The message of those strangers inside had been burned into their hearts: "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?"  Or as the angels say to Mary in John's account of Easter, "Woman, why are you weeping?"

            In a heartbeat, their lives were changed.  It might seem like an idle tale to some, but for Mary and Joanna and Mary Magdalene, this was a moment of transformation.  No longer do they need to cling to dead visions of hope.   No longer do they need to try to secure their lives in things that will not feed them.  This might seem like an idle tale to others, but for them this is life-changing truth.  The angel invites them to move into a new possibility...the grave no longer holds any power on those who believe.

            So why are we weeping?  Why do we live our lives as if resurrection had not happen?

            The answer may be as simple or complex as this: all of this may sound like nothing more than an idle tale.  But if the impact of Easter has brushed up against your life, you know that it is more than that.  In one of those moments of family life that seem to happen all too infrequently, my father once shared with me a time he felt the presence of God more closely than any other time in his life.  Before he told me the story, I wondered what that could be.  Was it a moment serving in Europe during World War II? Was it an experience of growing up in the Depression? When was that time?  It was, he said simply, two days before his own father had died.  Cancer had taken its toll on my grandfather.  In those days, treatments for cancer were few. Watching his father languish in pain,  my Dad was overcome by emotion. The pain was horrible, and horrible to watch. He excused himself from the hospital room and headed down to the hospital chapel.  With tears in his eyes, he prayed that God would release his father from the pain...and God did.

            That story only reached its full impact on my life at age 26, when the roles were reversed, and I watched as cancer claim my Dad.  And then I knew: faith is certainly no idle tale.  Faith is what makes possible the move from utter desolation to hope.  Faith is what surrounds us with the possibility of resurrection, the reminder of God's boundless love.  For, as one of my professors in seminary has said, "God has reversed the verdict of the world."[1]

            To those who believe, Easter is no idle tale.  It is, instead, an invitation to  new possibility and new hope.  The grave no longer holds its power on those who believe.  

              Once again in Luke's story of Jesus, God redefines what it means to find fullness in life.   If, as Joan Chittister muses, we have been been looking for fullness of life and possibility in things, systems, in status, and money, we have been blind to what God is doing.    All of the stories in Luke have been leading to this place: the prodigal who is welcomed home, the ruler who is searching for eternal life, the blind who received their sight, the woman who was healed, and the lepers who were made clean: all of them would nod their head in approval: this is certainly not a tale of foolishness: The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed.  Why are we weeping?

            That is our proclamation this Easter, and it is also our invitation:   to understand resurrection, we must allow God to move us from grief and fear to utter joy and amazement.  No longer do we seek the living among dead.  Instead,  we let these five words change our lives forever: "He is not here, he is risen."  Like the women, we rise up and carry the good news of the gospel with us.  We rise up and proclaim the joy of Easter to those we meet.  We allow the message to transform us.  We tell others what Jesus Christ means to us.   We live as people of resurrection: with hope, with joy, and in remembrance of all the things Jesus taught.

            For resurrection takes place in this world filled with idle tales and stories of grief. Resurrection guides us as we move into the world, sharing with the poor, relieving the burden of the oppressed, and healing the sick.  Resurrection faith enables us to sit down with our enemies, and to face the onslaught of evil.    This is no idle tale, but our joyous good news: the Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!  Let us share in the feast he has prepared.  Amen.

[1] Daniel Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding, p. 193.

  "Listen!"

February 3, 2008

Transfiguration Sunday

A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating

            The snow was falling outside Thursday evening.  The TV was on, but if your home was like ours, no one was listening.  Everyone in our house was waiting with bated breath for the listing of schools.  Early on it didn't look too good.  Our daughter Christine is an optimist.  "Looks like they forgot to list the school districts that start with "p-a" she said.   The only thing our kids were listening for was the call that came around 9:45 from the school district.

            And the only houses more excited were the homes of teachers!

            Stop. Look. Listen.  That simple sequence we all learned in kindergarten has profound spiritual meaning.  It is at the very heart of the story today from the Mount of Transfiguration, and it is at the heart of all that we do as people of faith.

            I confess: this story is so chock full of mystery that it can be hard to understand, let alone interpret.  We stop at this mountain each year before Ash Wednesday, casting our eyes up to see if we, too, might be able to be changed. We know that this is holy ground, yet too often we push past the mystery and awe. We try to manage this so we can understand it. But today I want to let the awe and mystery of this moment of Jesus' life settle on us a bit. Here at the midpoint of Jesus' ministry, Matthew throws in a bit of theater. Jesus takes his inner circle up the mountain and suddenly there is a light show that could rival any Super Bowl half-time show. A change comes over Jesus, his face shines, his clothes dazzle. Talk about costume malfunctions!

            And at center stage: the booming, beckoning voice of God: This is my own dear boy, my son with whom I am pleased...listen to him. Listen to him.

            But it is so hard to listen. One of my old books from seminary says that "it is far easier to direct a conversation along the lines of our own thinking than to respond along the lines of thought and feeling and in accord with the assumptions of others."[1] It takes a certain discipline to not only hear someone but to really hear what they are saying.

            How important it is, yet in the din of our lives, how hard listening really is. For example,  we share the sacrament of communion in this church at least once a month.  How often do we take time to stop, look, and listen for God in this table? As we pass the bread to each other, how would your celebration of communion be different today if you simply looked into the eyes of the one passing the tray to you and heard them say, "The body of Christ, given for you."  How different would your experience of listening for God's voice in your life be if you heard yourself saying, as you passed the cup, "The blood of Christ, shed for you?"  It really matters that we stop, look, and listen today.

            Last year, a blizzard began three days after Christmas outside the small community of Clayton, New Mexico.  It's a lonely, desolate part of New Mexico's northeastern plains, and a terrible place to be stranded.   It quickly became a white-out condition, and then a small traffic accident on Highway 56 shut down the road.  Forty-four cars were trapped.

            Meanwhile, about 150 yards from the accident, Randy Glover and his wife Christine were talking to each other on handheld radios.  The husband was across the yard in his workshop talking to his wife who was back in their small three bedroom adobe house. As they were talking, they heard something else: a somewhat garbled conversation from two of the people caught in the accident.  The people were lost and scared. The snow was blowing so bad they couldn't see the Glover's house.  Over the radio, it was hard to hear their voices.

            But the Glover's listened.  And they gave directions to their house, and over the next three hours the strangers made their way off the highway and into the living room of this family's small house.  Eventually they welcomed over 44 strangers, ages 4-70.  The Glover's kids broke out the dominoes and card games and Mrs. Glover started making chili as they all learned how to share one bathroom. A trucker for a grocery company got permission from his company to open his truck load of groceries.  An elderly heart-patient was evacuated by heliocopter. More than a dozen stayed until New Year's Day.  No whining, no tears, no grumbling - just a bit of loud snoring.  Everyone was welcomed.  Everyone. Later on Christine Glover told a reporter that she had been waiting for a moment like this her entire life. "We met people who will be friends for life," said Christine. [2] 

            Just because they listened.

            But it wasn't because they were eavesdropping. No, the miracle-what we might call the transforming moment - came as this special family listened and responded.

            Stop, look, listen.

            The voice of God in today's scripture is, of course, a link that connects this story of Jesus' transfiguration to his Baptism by John.  The words are identical both times- "This is my beloved Son," except this time God directly instructs the disciples to "listen to him."  This commanding invitation is perhaps most startling of all the elements in this story: listen to him. Listen to him and understand more about what being a disciple is all about.  Listen to him and shape your life according to what he has to say. Listen to him, and know what it is like to forgive, to act in love, to respond to the little ones. Listen to him, and you'll be changed. Listen to him, and you'll see the needy, the poor, the hungry, the naked. Listen to him and you'll hear the cries of newborn children in crisis. Listen to him, and you'll find that moment you've been waiting for your entire life. Listen to him. Listen to him, and move beyond fear to action rooted in Christ's love.

            And...listen to him, and you'll understand why this Mountain of Transfiguration is not a final destination, but only a layover until he is crucified.

            Of course the disciples are terrified; who wouldn't be? Yet Jesus comes to them, and as further proof of the mystery of this holy moment, touches them. "Get up," he says, and "do not be afraid."  God comes to us. God knows we are afraid.  Christ touches us and tells us, "I have listened to your fears; now listen to my voice."

            It would be great to live up on the mountain, living in those thin places where God's spirit sweeps down on us.  It would be incredible to live in such a place, withdrawn and away from reality. Yet, like the disciples, much of how we live our faith takes place off the mountain.  No matter how much we act like Peter in trying to preserve this holy moment, the reality is we are called to come down the mountain.  And, as we do, we have one other thing to keep in mind: Listen to Jesus.

            In a few hours, we'll gather around television sets and thanks to surround sound, we'll listen to players calling plays, and commentators commenting about those plays, and to crowds commenting on those plays.  We'll yell at the refs, the coaches, we'll laugh at commercials or scratch our heads and say "What was that about?"  

            The din of our world, with all of its crackle and static, will fill our lives. 

            But will we have listened to Jesus? Will we have allowed the mystery of this holy moment to so thoroughly change us that we will consistently, thoroughly, regularly, listen to him?  I invite you to come to this table now, and to stop, look, and listen.  We might just hear the opportunity we've been waiting for our entire lives. Amen.

[1] Gaylord Noyce, The Art of Pastoral Conversation, p. 28.

[2] http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_4939515, accessed 2 February 2008.