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"What Are You Doing Here" June 19, 2016

6/30/2016

1 Kings 19:1-15 ; Luke 8:26-39

The texts are poignant and heart-wrenching.
“Please come get us now. Please-they shooting”-- from Akyra Murray, 18, the youngest victim.
“I’m going to die. Mommy I love you”-- from Eddie Justice, 30, who texted his mother frequently in the final moments of his life, trapped in the bathroom of the Pulse nightclub.
“I’m dying.   Call mami”-- texted by Jeff Rodriguez, 37, to his brother, who thought he was joking. Jeff was one of the lucky ones who survived -- out of the 49 people dead and 53 wounded at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Florida, last Sunday morning.
Not many of us live in the kind of fear known in the LGBTQ community, or by victims of domestic violence or other forms of violence. Most of us can relate to some degree of the fear of the Gerasenes community of our gospel reading, where a demon-possessed man terrorized the town. We have seen or heard stories of criminally insane people harming individuals on the streets or subways of New York – and chalk it up to life in the Big City.
So perhaps then we can imagine the fear of Elijah the prophet who receives word from Queen Jezebel that she plans to murder him – In return for Elijah’s role in the murder of the prophets of Baal and Asherah, the gods she worshipped.   And this was in retaliation for the Jezebel’s murder of the prophets of Yahweh, except for a 100 that the prophet Obadiah hid in a cave.   And thus the cycle of violence and conflict continues.
This mighty warrior prophet, who predicted drought, brought a widow’s young boy back to life, who faced down King Ahab and emerged triumphant in a and slaughters Queen Jezebel’s prophets, on Mount Carmel now has the wrath of Queen Jezebel on his head. Suddenly his courage leaves him and he flees.
Afraid, he runs away from the kingdom of Israel to Judah, out of Queen Jezebel’s jurisdiction. He goes into the wilderness and asks God that he might die, take my life, he says, I am no better than my ancestors.   Ancestors he knows who repeatedly failed to keep the law and who gave into the pressures of the cultures around them. Yet Elijah has not done this. If anything, he has proven himself to be a zealot for Yahweh. Yet Elijah’s fear twists his thinking and clouds his mind.
        Elijah continues to travel another 40 days until he reaches the great Mt. Horeb, in the Sinai Peninsula, where God appeared to Moses and the Law was given.   In his despair, Elijah hopes to find inspiration back at the source, to the beginning of where the people of Israel received their covenant. There on Mt. Horeb, where Moses once stood and started a new life and forged a new identity, Elijah seeks the same. Yet Elijah hides in a cave, much like Obadiah has hidden the remnant of the prophets of Yahweh in caves.
After a night the Lord comes. Twice in this passage God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”   Elijah doesn’t talk about his fear. That he killed hundreds of Queen Jezebel’s prophets. However he talks about his zeal, and that his fellow-Israelites have forsaken the ways of the covenant, have followed a different path and that he alone is left of them all. He’s leaves out the detail that there are 100 prophets plus Obadiah as well. Elijah really isn’t alone. But he is isolated and vulnerable.
God asks, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” To which Elijah offers the same answer. In his fear, the experience of God or the questions of God have not made an impact. Yet God states that he will use Elijah and sends him on to do difficult tasks. Hard work. Yet God has confidence in Elijah to see things through, despite the crisis of faith he faces.
Many of us are like Elijah. We try to stand up for what is right. To live according to the covenant we have in our hearts with God.   We may even have the courage to confront evil when we see it and take a stand.   It is hard to do this day in and day out and it takes a toll.   We feel the outrage that the massacre that happened at Pulse last Sunday, but we live instead a very disturbing system that permitted this carnage to happen. Every day, on average 36 people are murdered by guns.   297 on average are shot.
Who -- like Akyra, Eddie, Jeff or Elijah, would not get tired of it all? Who would not be tempted to flee to safety – flee as far as you can go? Who would not be afraid with threats from someone capable of carrying them out hanging over your head? Who would not get overwhelmed like Elijah?
Even if we must flee, yet the Scriptures say God will met on the journey and sustain us. If we must find a cave to hide ourselves, God will meet us there.   God asks us: What are you doing here?    Why are we here?
Even the best of them, Elijah, got scared. Even he fled. Even Elijah needed reassurance of why he was here. God answered Elijah by sending him to his next task. More work was still to be done.   Elijah was still needed.
We all need to escape to Mt. Horeb every now and then. We need a cave to retreat to when the world can get to be too much. That doesn’t mean that God is finished with us yet, just because we feel finished.   There, in that safe space, God asks, “What are you doing?”   And perhaps we ask ourselves: What are we fleeing? Are we abandoning the cause? Are we changing our lives? Are we helping others? Are we just resting? Are we afraid?
God wants us to know ourselves and what we are created for and called to do.   For we all have a role in spreading the good news of Jesus Christ. We each have a part to play in promoting the justice and peace of the kingdom. What are we doing? God wants to know, because it is hard work, and it is hard to keep up the stamina if we forget what we are doing here. Like Jesus, we bring sanity and safety to those around us, like Elijah we bring our zeal for God’s covenant.
What are we here for? Because we have a place and a purpose in God’s kingdom. We are called out of the cave and off the mountain because our contribution matters. Our voice is needed, our actions count. No one said that this journey would be easy. Make it we must, for there is a ways to go.
Let us be reminded, what are we here for?
For Akyra.
For Eddie.
For Jeff and all rest who died or were injured that fatal night.
        For the 16 and 18 year old teens shot dead in Orlando on Friday.
        For Regina Jeffries, a 16 year old Oakland CA. teenager shot to death at a vigil for Orlando.
        For Christiana Grimmie, of the TV Show the Voice, also shot to death in Orlando while signing autographs.
        For the Charleston 9, the saints of Mother Emmanuel, who were shot and killed just over a year ago at a bible study.
        For all those who need our help to hear the good news of Jesus Christ and to stop the madness, and In God’s name -- to stop the madness.
        That’s what we’re here for.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/for-the-lgbt-community-orlando-shootings-reinforce-the-fear-that-nowhere-is-safe/2016/06/12/9dcd6f68-30d6-11e6-8ff7-7b6c1998b7a0_story.html

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"Forgiven and Loved" June 12, 2016

6/30/2016

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1 Kings 21: 1-10; 15-21a; Luke 7:36-8:3

            Jezebel. No doubt about it, she ranks high up on the “really bad girls of the bible” list. Even if you don’t know about Jezebel’s story, or of her brutal demise, her reputation lingers in her name. Jezebel has become synonymous of a ruthless, scheming woman. A colorful array of descriptions have been suggested for Jezebel; such a hoochie, hussy, floozy, minx, quean,slut, tramp, trollop, wench, whore, temptress, vamp; grisette, harlot, witch, prostitute, or a trull. Isn’t it amazing how many adjectives exist for woman of dubious notoriety?   Girl bands, feminist blogs, female run art galleries, fancy lingerie, even a World War II missile have all inspired by the ambitious, ruthless, and independent spirit of Queen Jezebel.

          Jezebel earned her reputation. She was the Phoenician wife of King Ahab of Israel. Jezebel was an ardent follower of the Canaanite god, Baal. Altars and sacred poles to Baal were allowed in the capital of Israel. Jezebel ordered the persecution and murder of hundreds of the prophets of the Hebrew God who denounced the worship of Baal. Our story today captures the worst of Jezebel’s character: she masterminded the plot to set up Naboth on trumped-up charges to murder so that his property could be seized for her husband’s pleasure. Jezebel was very naughty – and unrepentant.

          Contrast to Jezebel is the main female character in our gospel lesson. She barely garnishes a blip in our consciousness. She is a sinner, a great sinner, in fact. Unlike Jezebel, her story does not evoke recognition. Jezebel roamed the corridors of power; our unnamed woman lived in the alleyways of powerlessness. Jezebel incited fear in many religious men – with the exception of Prophet Elijah – our gospel woman incited contempt in Simon the Pharisee. Jezebel planned a meal under the pretext to kill and steal; Our unnamed woman attended a meal unwelcomed, to seek forgiveness and pardon. Unlike Jezebel, her actions are not remembered, pondered, no girl bands, no blogs no lingerie stores have adapted her as a logo. Our tradition has held up Jezebel as a warning. But this unnamed woman’s example, heroic in its own way, has not been given the weight and attention it deserves. We read her story then move on.

          Yet this woman’s experience of conversion and forgiveness is one of the most powerful stories we have in the New Testament. Parts of this story are found in all four gospels, a rare feat. Yet we do not know her name and she does not utter a single word. Her actions, however, speak volumes.
          Our text does not tell us what type of sin she has committed, yet the church down the ages has declared this woman is a prostitute. Modern Biblical scholars, mostly men, admire her piety, yet characterize her as “anxious,’ “overcome by her emotions,” or “touched by hysteria.”   Not someone we would characterize as powerful witness to faith. What is it that Jesus sees that we don’t see? We have to pay very close attention to the text to see why this unnamed woman is a remarkable role model of discipleship.

Now, I am not sure how an anxious, hysterical, overly emotional woman would find the courage to enter a Pharisee’s home, uninvited and unaccompanied by a male. But she does. And she weeps. The word used for weeping here is almost always associated with weeping brought about by circumstances of profound suffering, most frequently at the death of a loved one. It was used in response to the slaughter of the innocents. At the death of Jarius’ little daughter, last week we saw it at the death of the Widow’s son in Nain, and at Lazarus’ death as well. This woman is experiencing a living death and comes to Jesus, who restores her to true life.

          This woman’s tears wet Jesus’ feet. As we have seen, there is a good amount of crying in the gospels, but this is the only place in the gospels where the word, tears, appear. Every example where tears are used in the rest of the NT it refers to people who are persecuted yet remain faithful to Jesus. So here is this unnamed woman, exhibiting her faith in Jesus, in the presence of her persecutor, the Pharisee Simon.
          This woman kisses Jesus’ feet. Luke uses a special, tender term to describe this kiss. It’s the same term in the parable of the prodigal son, where the Father greets his wayward son with a tender kiss upon his return. Judas too, betrayed Jesus with a tender loving kiss. So the only record we have of Jesus receiving a loving kiss, without the stigma of betrayal, is the tender kiss is from this prodigal, unnamed woman.

          As a final act of devotion, the woman anoints Jesus’ feet and dries them with the hairs on her head. “Hairs of her head” in used in two other occasions by Luke to denote the providence of God in the time of persecution of one’s faith.   Simon the Pharisee sees a brazen woman, letting down her hair in the ultimate act of wantonness. Jesus sees a woman, persecuted, sinful, but who has made the decision to place her confidence in God.

          This woman’s faith is conveyed in bathing Jesus’ feet with her tears, an act of devotion and hospitality. It was an expected custom of courtesy to offer water to wash a guest’s feet, to wash away the dust of the travel. Simon overlooks this significant act. But this woman, without complaining, assumes the role of a lowest slave to clean Jesus’ feet. It is an example that Jesus emulates when he in turn washes his disciples’ feet on the night before his death.

          Simon is disgusted by the acts of this woman, and prnounces her a sinner. Jesus sees it differently. Jesus tells Simon this woman has loved much. Jesus spends a great deal of his time teaching us to love God, to love our neighbors as ourselves, even to love our enemies. But only twice does Jesus actually comment of the quality of love of a human being for another. Here, with this woman, and later, when he condemns the Pharisees for their neglect of the love of God, while loving the best places in the synagogue and salutations in the marketplace.   So this is the only positive example of love Jesus lifts up for us to consider.
          So why do we remember Jezebel, and not her?
          Do you see this woman, Jesus asks?
          What do we see?

A hysterical woman? An overly-emotional woman? An anxious woman that needs a little valium to settle her nerves? Is she a sinful woman, like Jezebel? An unwanted woman who just doesn’t know her place?

Or, do we see a woman who despite persecution, despite prejudice, despite the brokenness of sin, bravely seeks Jesus. She just loves Jesus, with the very hairs on her head, with her very tears because in his presence, at last she experienced wholeness. Unjudged. Loved. So she loved Jesus through her pain, in the home of those who judged her most, those who wouldn’t leave their side of the table, who wouldn’t bother to know her name.
          Do we see this woman now? She is that part of us, who is going through tribulations, struggling to know the truth, to be faithful, to hear God calling, – that we can be more than our mistakes, more than the sins we’ve committed.   She is that unnamed part of us that can show us how to be bold, to be faithful, how to love God and serve others, without a fuss, without a word.

          Do you see this woman now? She is that part of you and me that that is forgiven and loved and has a future in Jesus. See has much to teach us. Although there is much sin and brokenness, we can still love. We can be bold and find Jesus, and embrace him, even where we have not been wanted. We can weep, our tears can cleanse, we can apply the ointment of mercy, we can wipe away the dust from the feet of the weary, we can be an example of faith that brings forgiveness, peace and wholeness of Christ to all the Simons, to all the Jezebels, to all the unnamed around us.

          Let her be named. Let her carry your name.
          Let her carry your name. See her, in you – a true disciple, forgiven and loved. And let her amazing example of great love become ours. Amen.

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Rise June 5, 2016

6/6/2016

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1 Kings 17: 8-24; Luke 7: 11-17

Nargis lives in a poor village in West Bengal. She was married off in her teens to a man already diagnosed with TB. Her parents couldn't afford a decent dowry so they settled for the first marriage offer that came their way for their daughter. Her husband died a couple of years later, leaving her a mother and a widow in her early 20's. Today she supports herself and her young son by working in people's houses. When she gets work, she and her son eat one meal a day. They live with her in-laws who can offer a small room for them, but are too poor themselves to help her with anything more, so Nargis has to feed and clothe herself and her son on her own.

Then there is Malti Mishra who said she had burnt all her hopes on her husband's pyre. Priti Yadha Bhai who 30 years ago was married for only ten days, Anwara Bibi who bore nine children and begs food to survive. They all had their different sorrows but every one of them ended with the same sentence. "I want nothing more now from life. Life is a “living sati,” they say, a reference to the outlawed practice of widow burning at a husband’s death. I'm just waiting for death." They say.

A widow is sometimes called "pram" or creature in India, because it was only her husband's presence that gave her human status. In some Indian languages, a widow is referred to as "it" rather than "she"; in others, the word doubles as an abuse or is barely differentiated from the word for prostitute.

The reality is, however, that of the 258 million widows across the world, more than 115 million live in poverty, 86 million have suffered physical abuse and 1.5 million children whose mothers who have been widowed will die before reaching the age of five. With upwards to 5-6 children to care for, we could be talking close to a billion widows and orphans in vulnerable and challenging circumstances.

We are reminded of this sober reality as we approach International Widow’s Day on June 23. We are even more reminded of this sober reality as we read our texts today from 1 Kings and Luke where widows figure prominently: the widow of Zarephath has next to nothing to live on: both widows lose their sons – their only link to survival and social standing. In many parts of the world, the plight of widows and orphans has not changed much from the world Elijah and Jesus lived in. In a male-dominated world, women were considered property; first of her father then her husband, then her son. There was little to no economic or social protection outside this system. So a widow who had no sons was truly in dire straits. This is why the Hebrew Scriptures make clear the community’s obligations and God’s intent:   The law in Deuteronomy states: "He executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and shows His love for the alien by giving him food and clothing.” Deut. 10:18 The Psalms remind us that God (68:5) is “A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows,” (Psalm 146:9)   “The LORD …supports the fatherless and the widow.”

No doubt these scriptures were on the mind of Jesus as he entered Nain, followed by his disciples and a large crowd. There at the city gates, the border between life and death, between safety and insecurity, a young man was being carried out to be buried, the only son of a widow. A large crowd accompanied them. Jesus, standing at this border, sizes up the situation and instantly is filled with compassion for her – this woman left bereft of everything in her world.

Jesus speaks twice: first telling the widow not to weep. This is a command of faith if there ever was one, since nothing had of yet changed for her. It is just the promise of something better, greater, a life beyond her imagination. Then Jesus touches the bier, making himself ritually unclean by touching a dead man’s casket – and commands the young man to Rise. The young man sits up and begins to talk and Jesus gives him back to his mother. Fear seizes the crowd; yet they glorify God, proclaiming “a great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has looked favorably on his people!” confirming the prophecies of old.

There are two-noteworthy risings in this passage from Luke. The dead young man rises from his casket. Jesus, in restoring him to life, is seen as a great prophet, like Elijah who also restored life to a dead boy, Jesus is rising among the people.    So the signs of Jesus’ rising as a great prophet are evident in the acts of rising others up – others for whom it would be impossible to get up on their own.   It should not be overlooked that we could acknowledge a third rising in this story – the widow of Nain – who had been brought low from the death of her son now also rises and is restored.

The message to rise is one we all need to hear today.   We may not live in a country that treats widows and orphans as outcasts living on the edges of society, but it doesn’t mean that life is easy for them. Furthermore there are more ways to be widowed and orphaned than through the death of a husband or father. There are more ways to die than to lie in a coffin. We can be perfectly alive, but dead in our unconfessed sin. We can be dead through the crushing weight of despair, the weight or cares of the world, of worries or depression; we can be among the living dead through suffering. We can be dead through a lack of compassion for others.    We can be orphaned through rejection and grief or loss. We can be widowed as much through divorce, a breakup or a separation as through death.

As much as we need to care actual widows and orphans and the grieving, we need to acknowledge those caught in a spiritual widowhood, spiritual orphans, those who are spiritually dead.   Some of us fit this description. The problem is, like most widows and orphans in this world, we can’t get out of it on our own. We need help to live again. From Jesus and from each other.

It is through Jesus, the compassionate one, who meets us at the gates of the city, at that boundary to life and death, the one who himself is Risen, he has the authority to command us to rise.   Rise from death. Rise from pain and despair. Rise up from the hopelessness.   Rise from whatever binds us – whatever sin or oppression that holds us captive. Rise! Rise! Rise!
That is our task in the world. Life is our legacy, abundant life, Jesus said, not death. So we are to respond to the call to rise up, and then issue the call to rise to the downtrodden.   We are to be filled with the same compassion that consumed Jesus.

So we say to Nargis and Malti and Priti, Rise! We must become part of the great movement of Risers who make it possible for others to rise – through our compassion, our advocacy, our resources, our presence – because our ability to rise is connecting in the rising of others.   That is one of the great mysteries of faith that Jesus insists of us, the Risen one, who rose as others were commanded to rise by him.   Through compassion we will find our way to be risers. So hear the command of the risen one as he touches us where we are dead: Rise!   Then go, in compassion, touch someone else entombed – take them by the hand and bid them, Rise! Amen.
http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/health/2010-06-23-un-widows-poverty_N.htm
https://www.rnw.org/archive/life-ashes-story-indias-widowsune 23, International Widow’s Day

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"What Are You Doing Here" June 19, 2016

"Forgiven and Loved" June 12, 2016

Rise June 5, 2016

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