Abundant Life

John 10: 1-10

Irondequoit United Church of Christ

May 3, 2020

“I came that they may have life,

and have it abundantly.”

John 10:10

     While I was serving as your missionary in the field, serving in Israel and Palestine, it was expected that during and at the end of my term I would travel around the country and visit UCC Conferences and churches to talk about the work of our mission partner. For three years I was one of New York’s missionaries.

     One summer I was in upstate New York staying in the home of former missionary, Lawrence Gilley, who was our missionary in South Africa for over 30 years. He and his wife now lived near their family and worked on a farm in Deansboro.  One morning he asked me if I wanted to go out and feed the cows. I did not grow up on a farm or even near one, so I naturally thought this meant we needed to bring them food. We set out on foot passed the barn where I thought the food was kept, up to the pasture where the cows were standing around eating grass. He told me he had three pastures. I thought, “How nice.” He told me to wait at the gate and that he would return in a few minutes. Maybe he forgot the food. I thought. He crossed the small field and went to one of the three gates and opened it. I could hear him calling out their names. He and his dog managed to get all the cows out to the pasture. He came back and simply said, “Done.” You see every couple of days the cows were led to a new pasture to eat fresh grass. Former missionary, now farmer, Lawrence Gilley, led his herd literally to greener pastures. This how he fed them. This is how he gave them abundant life. I bookmarked this new knowledge in my brain but also new in my heart I was being given a lesson about the importance of gates. This knowledge has helped shape how I respond to today’s scripture.

            In both our readings today, Psalm 23 and John 10: 1-10, Jesus is identified as the good shepherd, an image that in ancient times was revered and connected to leadership. Hear these words from Ezekiel 34: 14-16.   

I will feed them with good pasture,

and upon the mountain heights of Israel

shall be their pasture;

there they shall lie down in good grazing land,

and on fat pasture

they shall feed on the mountains of Israel.

I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep,

and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God.

I will seek the lost,

and I will bring back the strayed,

and I will bind up the crippled,

and I will strengthen the weak,

and the fat and the strong I will watch over;

I will feed them in justice.

            The shepherd comes in through the gate and goes out first leading the sheep. They recognize his voice and follow. He does not scatter them and keeps an eye out for those that get lost or hurt. Once in Palestine I saw a shepherd helping a sheep give birth to a lamb. After a standing by protectively the shepherd picked up the lamb and put it across his shoulder and then he and the mother sheep rejoined the flock.

             A good shepherd stops at nothing to provide for his sheep. Jesus claims to be what is needed to live: water, bread of life, light of the world, shelter and safety. In our Gospel story, we are told that the sheep will not follow a stranger but will run from him.

Seeing that the Pharisees still did not get what he was saying John adds, “Very truly, I tell you I am the gate for the sheep.” All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them (10:9). Let us pause here. Who are the bandits and sheep, the false prophets, the ones who are claiming leadership, or the truth today? Now before you go to where I think you are going in your minds, I wish to remind you that at one time Protestants were considered bandit shepherds trying to steer the church away from its real home by rejecting Papal authority and supporting the rule of the princes and kings. Others then and now might say people from other religions are the bandits and thieves because they threaten our Christian identity which is closely connected to our understanding of nationhood. Others might say people with political views different from our own are the thieves espousing falsehoods and lies. Easier to follow a shepherd who mouths what we want to hear then the one who calls us by name and who says, “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved and will come and go out and find pasture” (John 9).  

            In this time of lockdown, sheltering in place orders, it is hard not to see the gate as something that keeps us from getting out, that hinders our freedom of movement, but I invite you this morning to remember the gate also protects and provides safety. It can swing wide also and lead us to greener pastures, better days, abundant life. Does Christ, the gate, keep the flock from corruption by the world or did God so love the world that he gave his son, the gate, to swing open for all, particularly the lost sheep? Does one flock or one fold, mean that all other sheep-- people or religions must be saved by Christ or does it mean that God’s love extends to all so that all may be one?

            Debi Thomas in her essay I am the Gate, invites us to take the text to heart by allowing it to provoke some personal questions. Listen to some of her questions and pay attention to those that are calling you today. Listen to how God’s word is speaking to you today:

• What is it in me that resists the open gate? 
• Where in my life am I walled off, closed to change, averse to movement, risk, freedom, joy? 
• What flock do I belong to, and whose voice do I follow most readily? 
• What calls to me, making seductive promises I shouldn't trust?
• Do I know the shepherd well enough to recognize his call? 
• Am I willing to leave the fold in order to find pasture, or am I too complacent, scared, suspicious, and jaded to pursue abundant life?

            In the coming weeks as the country begins to move towards opening up in the midst of a world- wide pandemic, I invite you to think about these questions. And be assured we will be tempted to close many gates. Many will try to seduce us with false promises of cures and security that have very little to do with Jesus’ call to abundant life. We will need to pray hard about our sheepfold, our flock, about who is our shepherd, our gate.

Merciful God,

who is more than we can imagine,

give us a wider vision of the world;

give us dreams of peace

that are not defined by boundaries of geography

or race or religion,

or by the limitations of worldly structures and systems.

Open our eyes and our ears, that wherever we go,

we may hear your voices calling us by name;

calling us to serve,

calling us to share

calling us to praise

so that we never give up on the promise

of your kingdom

where the world is transformed,

and all can enjoy life

in all its fullness.*

*Prayer from Christian Aid website

And Love Will Rise Up

Irondequoit United Church of Christ

April 12, 2020

You are the God who remains with us during our Saturdays

 of waiting and wondering, marked by the memory

 of Friday and the hope of Sunday.

Forbid us too-easy exits out of the darkness.

May we wait until we are at last called

 by your life- giving grace. Amen.

Walter Brueggemann

    Holy Week for Western Christians has coincided with the worst week for the Covid-19 pandemic. What timing! More infections, hospitalizations, and deaths and still not even the peak. So, the question must be asked, “What does it mean to celebrate resurrection when people far and near are dying by the thousands? What does it mean that the tomb is empty when our mortuaries are over flowing and mourners can’t even bury their dead?

     When I lived in Jerusalem, I used to tell people that the Palestinian people lived a perpetual Good Friday---a life full of pain and suffering. Everyone had an address on the Via Dolorosa. But this year, my first Easter as your pastor, I am thinking that we are living Holy Saturday. We are in hell. But then I remember our sacred story and it matches. Jesus went to Hades on that Saturday after he was crucified to save and liberate everyone beginning with his biblical parents--- Adam and Eve. In the Universal resurrection tradition, Christ does not rise alone but raises all of humanity with him. St. Ambrose, the archbishop from Milan, put it this way: “In him the world arose, in him heaven arose, in him the earth arose. For there will be a new heaven and a new earth.”

Dear Ones, there will be a new heaven and a new earth.

    In the Orthodox tradition they call Saturday Holy Fire Saturday. Do you know why? Because dear ones, the tomb was not empty, it was full of angels and light, light emanating off the stone where he was laid in his grave clothes. In addition to celebrating the universal resurrection they celebrate the mystery of the light in the tomb.

     So, in Jerusalem on Holy Fire Saturday, people flock from all over the world to go into the Old City to Holy Sepulcher to wait for the light to come from the tomb. You see the Holy Spirit arrives more or less around 3:00 PM on this holy day and miraculously lights the torch of the Greek Patriarch who is in the tomb praying and waiting. Once lit he comes out of the tomb with his torch and shares or passes the light to the other Patriarchs. They then pass it to all the people gathered with their lanterns or candles. Eventually the whole church is lit up. It is indeed a sight to behold.

     The light goes out from Jerusalem to the rest of the world. This is how Easter begins. The rest of us stand and wait to have our 40 bees wax candles singed and then we bathe ourselves in the fragrance. It is a beautiful ritual and has added a new dimension for how I celebrate Easter.

     While it was still dark, Mary went to the tomb and saw the stone was rolled away and that Jesus was gone. She told Peter and one of the other disciples to come and see for themselves. They saw the grave clothes neatly folded and ran off to find what happened to Jesus probably fearing the worse.  Mary remained. When she looked in the tomb, she saw two angels in white sitting where the body had been. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." She like the two disciples thus far have not understood the meaning of the empty tomb or the tomb full of angelic presence and light. Then Mary turned around and saw a man who she thought was the gardener, but his voice was so familiar. Some say Jesus must have put on the gardener’s clothes because he and thrown off his grave clothes. I prefer to think that like God, his father, the creator, Jesus was a gardener of sorts. Mary’s weeping gives voice to her agony, pain, and grief. You will recall in the story of Lazarus, Jesus wept as he called Lazarus out of the tomb. Mary is a faithful disciple. She recognizes her beloved teacher, “Rabboni”, when he calls her name. What a lovely and important detail captured in Jan L. Richardson’s blessing,

            All you need to remember

            is how it sounded

            when you stood

            in the place of death

            and heard the living

            call your name

    Dear Ones, we are standing like Mary in the dark before dawn in the place of death, are we not? Easter begins here in Hades when all rise or in the shadows before sunrise when someone you love and thought dead calls out your name.

    This Easter is special not only because we cannot gather together as a church family or have Easter dinners but because the story is so close to our lived reality. Mary is told not to cling to Jesus. It’s not a rebuke but a command to let go of the past so she can step into her new life which will begin with telling others. For this, Mary will be called the Apostle of the apostles. Later, the stories say, she was interrogated by the Roman Emperor about where Jesus was. When she told him, “He has risen”, he didn’t believe her. He picked up an egg and said that was like saying this egg is red. Then the egg turned red. This is why St. Mary is depicted holding a red egg and why some Christians dye their eggs red in the Eastern churches.

   “Do not hold onto me.” Mary had a decision to make that morning in the garden. She wanted to hold onto Christ and the life she had known. Only in letting go would she be able to move into her new risky normal; to proclaim that he is risen; he lives.

     Dear Ones, we living in this time of a global pandemic, of chaos, and upheaval, we also have a choice to let go of what we thought was normal and risk an unknown new life. This coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else and our minds are racing back and forth with longing for a return to normality. But should this be our aim, our goal? The skies are clear over Los Angeles. The sea turtles are mating again. Are we clinging to normal because it was so great or because it is what we knew? What gifts or lessons is the pandemic teaching us? Can we make this our new normal? Indian writer Arundhati Roy says this pandemic is a portal which forces us to break with the past and imagine the world anew.

     Easter, dear ones, is a portal too. It is a gateway between one world and the next, and we dear ones, who have been called by name, are given the choice to either cling to the past or choose new lives, to practice resurrection. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! He has risen in us and therefore lives.

Blessed is the One

 Mathew 21:1-11

Rev. Loren McGrail

Irondequoit United Church of Christ

April 5, 2020

     It’s a scene of jubilation; full of shouting and singing and street theater like the conquering king riding in on a donkey while the Roman representative across town rides in on a war chariot. Self- conscious of fulfilling Zechariah’s prophesy, “…triumphant and victorious is he, humble and victorious is he riding on an ass, a colt, the foal of an ass (Zechariah 9:9).

Blessed is the One that weeps

for us and with us

when we have lost our way.

Blessed is the One that comes

towards us in majesty and humbleness

down that ancient twisted path

straight into our gated cities,

locked up homes and hearts.

Blessed is the one that hears

our shouts of joy

then endures our chants of betrayal.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken. In the beginning the crowds who had been singing Hosanna, “Save us” acted like they knew who he was or rather they acted like a people ready to be saved by a victorious king. They missed the symbolism of the donkey and the foal and so do most of us.  He did not ride on two animals but rather the two represent the prophesy of both Zechariah and Isaiah in whose name and prophetic calling he is following. And of course, we don’t link the hosannas to the burnt palms that will become ashes for next year’s Ash Wednesday.  But most importantly, most of us don’t want a Jesus who has come to turn over our tables, who calls us out of our comfortable hiding places, or who will test and judge us.

And truth be told, we Protestants prefer a Jesus which is light on the Passion Story, light on all that blood and suffering. We go from the joy of Palm Sunday to the silent despair of Maundy Thursday with perhaps a prayer around 3:00 PM on Friday, to a quiet Saturday, to a sunrise celebration of “He is risen.” We don’t really want to hear about that event in the Temple when he turned over the tables and threw out the money changers; we don’t want to admit how we too have betrayed him with our silence as he walked by carrying that heavy cross, or how we have become complicit with the powers and principalities of our day who continue to squeeze and oppress the poor and marginalized; the vulnerable and elderly. This is not the part of the story we wish to focus on.  

 One of the gifts of living in Jerusalem was that I got to celebrate three versions of each Christian feast--- the Orthodox or Eastern Church, the Western Church, and the Armenian Church. One year the Eastern and Western churches celebrated Easter at the same time.  It was chaotic but wonderful. One year, Easter Sunday and Passover was celebrated on the same day. This was not so wonderful as it restricted the movement of Christian pilgrims into the Old City.  

 Holy Week was a joyous and busy time to be in the Old City of Jerusalem with its many pilgrims processing around with their large wooden crosses especially on what in Arabic is called “Sad Friday.” And on Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, people from all over the world came to process down the Mount of Olives from Bethpage thru Lion’s Gate to Saint Anne’s Cathedral. They sang and danced on the narrow pathway waving their palms. We even had a barefoot Jesus come with his white donkey.                    

When you march down that ancient steep path you see Jerusalem the way you imagine Jesus saw it--- gleaming in the distance full of promise and hope, yet also then and now--the seat of power.        One of the places you pass during your walk is the Franciscan church, Dominus Fleuvet, shaped like a giant tear because it is believed to be the spot where Jesus looked out over the city and wept. That view from the church is one of my favorite holy sites as I can imagine him pausing here and weeping not for his fate to come but for our continued lack of understanding about what makes for peace.                                                          

And so, as it was then, and it is true today. We still don’t really get who this nonviolent Jesus was or what he demands of us now. We are still criminalizing political dissent, and persecuting children and their families in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories, and Gaza. By depriving people of their basic human rights which now include medical care, the occupying power is repeating a blood history of oppression and violence.

If Jesus were indeed to return to the world, to Jerusalem, this is what he would see---another military occupation mistreating the occupied, another imperial power trying to squash dissent through unjust laws and imprisonment. And Jerusalem, the city of the prophets, still running with blood.

This Palm Sunday there will be no walking down the Mount of Olives, no ecumenical services on Maundy Thursday at the Russian Orthodox Church of Mary Magdalene, or Good Friday walks through the Old City on the Via Dolorosa, or even Easter at Holy Sepulcher. The City is in lock down just like we are. But this doesn’t mean we are excused from our spiritual call to accompany Him all the way to the cross. We are in a time of a world- wide pandemic in which we are literally fearing for our lives and commanded thus to “shelter in place” to flatten the curve. We are living in a time where we can’t meet to worship or even pass out palms.

In spite of this Dear Ones, the Passion Story of Jesus’ betrayal and suffering still calls us to throw our coats on the ground, to wave our palms, and sing Hosanna today, “Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord (Psalm 118).”

We are invited to accompany all whose lives have become constricted, restricted, or targeted. We are called to stay awake and pray for each other and the planet we are destroying day by day. We are summoned to bear that heavy cross by choosing to live in compassion with those now dying daily, to see in them Him calling out, weeping, and rising up. And finally, we are called to roll away all the stones that entomb us, to practice resurrection daily.

Blessed is the one that

knows our limitations,

who pours out his love for us,

into us so we can be

guardians of truth

protectors of justice

architects of peace.

Amen.

The Time is Now: Sing

     

     

My come to Jesus moment happened last Monday night around 10 pm. I was waiting for the test results of the covid-19 virus. My pneumonia and persistent fever had made me a candidate. I was given massive amounts of antibiotics through my thin veins to deal with the infection on my lungs and now they wanted to make sure I didn’t have the dreaded virus that was rocking the planet. I tried to keep myself awake by watching various silly TV programs. I was drinking enough water to sink a small tankard. They told me they would tell me the results Monday night. While waiting the kind nurse, Lyn, brought me Earl Grey Tea from her private stash. We talked briefly while she took my vitals. She asked me to pray for the baby in the NICU. I was both patient and priest. She was both nurse and caring person.  Around 10 the PA came in. I could hear the rustle of her plastic gown. I tested positive. She said, “The doctor will come in the morning and talk to you about next steps.” Then she left.

  In the half -lit room of the hospital Jesus and I had a talk. I wasn’t hysterical. No crying out how this could be. Though there was and persists a mind track that tries to chart where I might have picked this up. No, this was a very quiet prayerful moment. “What do you want me to do now?  Silence almost deafening then a sense of overwhelming calm enfolded me. “Trust me. I will walk with you through this. You will be ok. I need you.”  The last part was a bit hard to understand because how can I be of use if I am out of commission I wondered?

    The next day I was released home to a strict quarantine in my apartment with daily check ins from the Health Department. A few says ago an agnostic friend suggested that I was an early adopter. It's a term used for an individual or business who uses a product or technology before all the kinks have been worked out. Companies rely on early adopters to provide feedback about the product’s deficiencies. Early adopters face risks. I have been trying on this concept of being an early adopter and seeing how it squares with “I need you.” And well yes, there is a synergy, a holy resonance. I was worried how I could lead the church if I was home bound and now, I see that my vulnerability, my having the virus and living through it is what makes me the perfect leader for you at this time. I have also identified as a wounded healer but now I get to be your authentic guide during this pilgrimage of sickness we are all on through these scary times.

    So, this is what I can tell you so far. And those of you who have been through serious illnesses know this already. We are all in this together. We are all connected, an injury to one is an injury to all. We are all vulnerable no matter our age or current state of health. Some are just more vulnerable to this particular virus.

   Jesus heals a man who is blind from birth with mud and spit. He is then sent to the Pools of Siloam which means Sent to wash off his past to begin his new life. Jesus anoints his eyes as a symbolic act of completing the creation God started. Creation is still at work and Jesus is activating or restoring spiritual sight. This is why one of his earliest titles is “Eye Salve.”

   Dear Ones, all of us, each of us, is invited to join Jesus in acts of mercy and kindness, to be healers along love’s way. We do it by bringing each other a cup of tea, by making a meal, sharing a kind email, a phone call.  But first we must wake up and face this new reality. We must see what is our new normal. Now is not only a time for social distancing to flatten the curve but a time for social solidarity. This ending of life as we have known it is also the beginning of a new life for our church family as we seek creative ways to stay in loving supportive relationship with each other.

   I would like to end with the Prayer/Poem by Father Richard Hendrick from Ireland called “Lockdown.”

Yes, there is fear.

Yes, there is isolation.

Yes, there is panic buying.

Yes, there is sickness.

Yes, there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

across the empty squares,

keeping their windows open

so that those who are alone

may hear the sounds of the family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

is busy spreading fliers with her number

through the neighborhood

So that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

are preparing to welcome

and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbors in a new way

All over the world, people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So, we pray, and we remember that

Yes, there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes, there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes, there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes, there is sickness.

But there does not have to be the disease of the soul

Yes, there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able

to touch across the empty square,

Sing.

The Time is Contracted

    "The time that remains is between now and midnight."

 comment made by Kyle Lambert,  presenter  on panel Atmospheric Affects: 

Political Theologies of Hope, Sorrow and EcoSocial Resilience   

     Last week I attended the Political Theology Network Conference at Union Seminary in New York City. I went because I had never heard of “political theology” and also wanted to hear Reverend William Barber from the Poor People’s Campaign and Michelle Alexander, author of the New Jim Crow. Hurricane winds kept Reverend Barber grounded in North Carolina. So in place of Rev. Barber we heard an opening panel of presenters talk about their academic journey to political theology in their research or field of study.

     I attended the conference with my friend and fellow mission co-worker  and trouble maker, Max Surjadinata . He too was unfamiliar with the term. At one point we looked at each other and I said, “I think we have been doing this all along.” He smiled and nodded yes back. Our call to ministry is to follow Jesus into the streets.

     This was the second Network Conference of scholars, activists, and theologians from around the world. Here is a sampling of some of the titles of their talks:

1. Agamben’s Messianism in the Postcolonial World: Reimaging the Sovereignty of the TraumatizedNation-State Amidst the Global Refugee Crisis; 
2.  Images of Fundamentalism in the Newly Democratizing States: The Emergence of Religious Nationalism in Indonesia and Myanmar
3. Political Theology of Trauma;
4. Simone Weil’s Political Theology of the Corpus Mysticum: Rending the Body of Christ; Counting on Apocalypse.

     I felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. I had entered an intellectual terrain that was both familiar and foreign. I grasped for the low hanging fruits of things I could understand and let go of trying to hold onto everything. There were a few things I came away with pertinent to my pastoral ministry and my current preoccupation, obsession, with climate justice or climate catastrophe as many refer to these times, the times directly calling out end time scenarios of apocalypse if we don’t change our course now.

     The apostle Paul two thousand years ago noted, “The appointed time is short (1Cor. 7:29). In Greek, theologian Catherine Keller points out that the word translated short is far more complicated, inviting and political. It means “gathered together” or “contracted.” Keller learned about this by reading political philosopher Giorgio Agamben in his meditation on Paul, The Time that Remains.

     You get the drift by now, right? Philosophers, agnostics, atheists scholars are now very interested in the intersection of how “Theos” or divinity intersects with all aspects of life. It is no longer forbidden or suspect for academics to talk about theology as an important aspect of all aspects of our social, economic, and political life. Theology is not politics, but it is already political because it arises out of particular social-political context. Heady stuff.

     At the end of Day 2 during our reception students from Union passed out playing card size posters announcing that “Union Theological Seminary plans to erect a 42 story tower of luxury condos and therefore contribute to the displacement of poor and Black communities in Harlem through gentrification.” The card also made reference to the tradition of the Tarot calling attention to the fact that the fall of the Tower symbolizes destruction, danger, and crisis. Then in bold letters, “Union’s tower will destroy and endanger already marginalized communities.” We were urged to Union to stop the Tower. Then students rolled out banners and lit some candles and gave speeches urging immediate action.

     Ironic, appropriate, hypocritical. All true. How could Union dare to hold such a conference in light of these facts on the ground? How could they not? How can any of us, flawed and imperfect, not at least try to deal with the political theological realities we are participating or living in?
     I left the conference full to brimming over with new ideas on how to develop a political theology up to the call to develop a hazardous hope during this contracted time that honors our collective grief and yet doesn't paralyze us into inaction or despair. I will try to articulate this in a down to earth way. It will involve looking at those apocalyptic texts I have always avoided and maybe even re-reading Paul. Join me.