A Journey with Luke

Beginning this Sunday, we at Seneca Presbyterian Church will be making a journey through the Gospel According to Luke. The Narrative Lectionary will be guiding us. The journey will take us through Easter. It's an appropriate journey to take on these Sundays. We will remember the life of Jesus in the days between the time we celebrate his birth and the time we remember his death and celebrate his resurrection - his re-birth and our own. On this particular journey, Luke will be our teacher and our guide.

 Each of our Christian Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) is unique and I am deeply grateful for that fact. I find it to be divine endorsement of the diversity of faithful expressions within the one affirmation of faith that all Christians share. Jesus Christ is Lord. He is the divine Incarnation, God with us, present with us on earth and in our lives on earth. In my own limited understanding of all the world's religions, that seems to be the unique contribution of Christianity. The world is not a place we seek to escape; it is the creation of God that humanity has spoiled and God is in the process of redeeming. Those of us who choose to follow His Son and to claim the name Christian are called to be partners with God in that re-creation.

Luke's Gospel was written for a world of both Jews and Gentiles. He wanted to show how the promises of God to Abraham had been fulfilled in the coming of Jesus of Nazareth, the promised Messiah. He claims to be writing an "orderly account" for his friend Theophilus, a name that means “lover of God” (Luke 1:1-4). He anchors his story in the context of world affairs, telling us that “this was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria” – to quote a familiar yet challenging line from Luke chapter 2.

Each Gospel was written for and in a specific community of Christian disciples. Yet because of their universal appeal, we don’t know just where each of them was written. That is one of the fascinating aspects of Gospel study. As we journey through Luke, we will discover clues about the unique make-up of Luke’s community and their unique challenges and gifts. That fact reminds us that the Gospels are not biographies of Jesus, especially as we understand that literary form. They are, in a sense, extended sermons whose purpose is to tell the Gospel story and bring us to faith, and once we claim that faith, to deeper discipleship.

Luke has blessed us with a much –loved Gospel story. Without Luke we would not know Zacchaeus, the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son, Elizabeth and Zechariah, Simeon and Anna, and two disciples who walked the road to Emmaus with a stranger who ended up being the resurrected Lord. May that Lord and Savior walk with us as we journey with Luke.

Several years ago, while preaching on the baptism of Jesus as interpreted by Luke, I found that text inviting me into the entire Gospel. If you want to know more about Luke, I've posted that sermon as the page "A Year with Luke." You can access it by clicking on the bar at the side of this page.

I invite you to deepen your own journey by reading the entire Gospel of Luke through from beginning to end, in one sitting if possible. As you do, ponder what it means to be a disciple of the One whose birth we celebrate in these days.

Covert Christians

This Sunday at Seneca Presbyterian Church, the Narrative Lectionary will lead us to a consideration of the story of Daniel in the Lions' Den. Now, if you're checking the calendar and noticing that Sunday is December 2, and also checking our church calendar to discover that we are celebrating our annual Christmas Dinner this week, you might wonder what Daniel and lions have to do with Christmas, or better said, with Advent, the season of preparation for Christmas.

 The book of Daniel is all about living in exile. The kingdom of Judah had been destroyed. The very best and brightest of its citizens had been taken into exile by the nation of Babylonia. Everything that gave life meaning had been taken away: land, Temple, and king. The prophets had said it was because of their unfaithfulness. The exile was God's great act of discipline - an act of love that embodies teaching and learning and growing in faith.

Our Hebrew brothers and sisters needed time to figure it all out. They had to learn how to live faithfully in a foreign land. They had to craft ways of worshiping God without the glory of God's Temple and festival celebrations. They had to re-discover their faith.

The wonderful stories that make up the first six chapters of the book of Daniel speak of faithfulness to the ways of God even when those ways seem foolish, and even when they are dangerous. Our heroes - Daniel and his friends Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego - are wise and faithful and brave. They rise to power without compromising their faith. When threatened by those who are jealous of their success, God protects them even in the face of certain death. And the kings of Babylonia and Persia come to believe in the God of Daniel - the almighty One, the King of all nations.

There are many in our day who believe that Christianity is on its way into "exile" as well. A Gallup Poll released last July says that only 44% of Americans have a great deal or quite a lot of confidence in "the church or organized religion." That rate has been falling steadily in the last thirty years. However you may interpret the fact, America is not the "Christian nation" we used to be. We see something of that in the drive to secularize Christmas. We love the holiday but many have problems with the faith from which it comes. So perhaps the story of Daniel and his challenge to maintain his faith in the midst of exile presents a learning opportunity for us.

As we prepare to contemplate Daniel and lions, consider:

• How do you experience the world's holiday of Christmas? 
• How does that differ from your quest to find meaning in what we believe as Christians about Christmas? 
• What are the most significant traditions, meanings, and truths for you? 
• If all of those traditions were taken away, how would you still believe and remain a faithful Christian?

The Making of a Prophet

Marc Chagall, the Prophet Isaiah, 1968

Last week, as we follow the Narrative Lectionary,  the saints of Seneca Presbyterian Church explored one of my favorite biblical stories - that of the highly reluctant yet highly effective prophet Jonah. Unfortunately for me, it was in my absence! This week, we turn to Jonah's exact opposite: the prophet Isaiah. Jonah's pride and narrow-mindedness caused him to run from God, and the mercy he knew would be extended to his bitter enemy. Isaiah's faith and devotion to God caused him to recognize his own sin and the sin of his people. He sought forgiveness, and readily accepted the call to serve God.

When we turn to the "major" prophets like Isaiah and away from the earlier ones like Elijah, we find ourselves with far more words and far fewer stories. Yet how magnificent are the words of Isaiah. The Jewish Study Bible calls Isaiah the "best loved of all the prophetic books." It is sighted more often than any of the other prophetic books in rabbinic literature and it is recited more often in synagogue worship as well - which might explain why Jesus seems to have been shaped by these words and why he so deeply embodied their vision.

No wonder many Christians consider Isaiah "the fifth Gospel." It is inevitable that our faith sees Jesus as the fulfillment of the messianic vision found in the words of this amazing prophet. It is like a door that once opened simply cannot be closed. Yet we must guard against the temptation to see only that, for these words were spoken centuries before Jesus in the world of our Hebrew ancestors. They spoke the truth of God's unceasing concern for and involvement in the world of His creation. In that light, they are the "gospel" - the good news - that God will not leave us to our own devices that serve our own interests while destroying His. Nor will God leave us in the failures and crises that come from them. God is both judge and savior, challenger and comforter - challenging us in our comfort and comforting us in our despair.

This Sunday, as we gather for worship at Seneca Pres, we will consider the vision that called Isaiah to his prophetic ministry. You can read it in chapter 6, verses 1-8. It is a magnificent encounter with an amazing God. As you read it, consider:

• How does this image of God compare with your experiences? Does anything come close? 
• Is the image comforting or disturbing to you? 
• Where can we receive the same sense of power and majesty that ignites our confession and compels our devotion?  

Saints to Each Other

St. Elijah, from a Serbian fresco

October has been a crazy month, and I've been negligent in my postings. Ironically, November should be better. Since last we spoke, the saints of Seneca Presbyterian have stopped to contemplate God's promise to David to build him a house (a dynasty) and Solomon's house for God (a temple). Kings have been the focus of our attention, but this week we will begin to focus on a king's fiercest foe: the prophet. Elijah is a great place to start.

The united kingdom ruled by Saul, David, and Solomon has broken in two. David's sons continue to rule the southern kingdom of Judah. A succession of kings rule in the north - in the kingdom of Israel. The books of 1 and 2 Kings tell the story of all these divine rulers - with a sharply critical eye. In 400 years of kings, only two win the seal of approval - Hezekiah and Josiah - and they both come from the southern kingdom of Judah.

In this Sunday's text, Elijah appears suddenly on the scene as the "troubler" of King Ahab and his queen Jezebel. We will be considering the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath, but no one should miss out on the other stories of Elijah. You can read them in 1 Kings 17-21 and then 2 Kings 1-2. They are amazing! If you've ever wondered where the phrases "fire from heaven" - "a still small voice" - and "swing low sweet chariot" come from, you'll find them in the stories of Elijah.

Yet this Sunday offers another amazing figure. We know her only as the widow of Zarephath. She is a foreigner living in Phoenicia, Jezebel's home territory. She as the unexpected honor of hosting Elijah as he waits out the drought sent by God as judgment on Ahab, who slipped up by building a temple to his wife's god Baal in his capital city of Samaria.

As we contemplated this text together, the Wednesday night Adult Study Group at Seneca Pres was amazed by the faith of the widow. She exists on the edge of starvation and death. She is approached by a total stranger who asks for her last bit of food. Yet when the stranger tells her "Be not afraid," she trusts him.

This week, we will also celebrate All Saints Sunday at Seneca Pres. We will remember saints in our church family whom we have lost in this past year. We will give thanks to God for them and seek to remember other saints in our lives.

As you prepare to worship God, I invite you to contemplate:

• When have you lived on the edge of starvation and death - whatever that means to you? 
• Where has God entered your life unexpectedly?
• What saint offered the gift of life to you? 

Hannah Rose

When I told the worshiping congregation of Seneca Presbyterian Church that we were "fast forwarding" through the Old Testament in our use of the narrative lectionary, I wasn't kidding. Last week, we were with the people of Israel on the night of their first Passover. This Sunday we will be with Hannah at worship in the sanctuary at Shiloh. So much happens in-between these events. (In defense of the narrative lectionary, we did skip the story of the Golden Calf that appears next in their sequence in order to "catch up.")

The story of Hannah and the birth of Samuel begin a time of great transition for Israel. After the Exodus, Moses guided the people for 40 years in the wilderness. It was a time that God remembers fondly because it was a time when the people were totally dependent on God. You might think of it as something of their childhood and adolescence. When we arrive at the books of Joshua and Judges, the people have entered the land of Canaan. They've fought for the land God promised them, and in some ways they are now "on their own." They are surrounded by people who worship many gods, especially the gods of nature. The future of God's promise - and the future of the world - depend on one question: Will Israel be faithful in the land God has promised them?

That is the overarching question answered by the books our Hebrew brothers and sisters call the Former Prophets, namely Joshua, Judges, 1 & 2 Samuel, and 1 & 2 Kings. In these six books that Christians call "history," (and scholars call the Deuteronomic History) Israel goes from being a landed (reaching the Promised Land) to a landless (losing the land in the time of exile) people. They also go from being a loose confederation of tribes to a society ruled by a king. It is an amazing story and an amazing journey - one filled with questions that still seek resolution even in our own day.

The wonderful story of Hannah transitions us to the world of kingship. Hannah's son Samuel will grow up to be the "king-maker" - the one who anoints both Saul and David as kings in Israel. As our narrative lectionary study group wrestled and enjoyed this story, we took each character in turn: Elkanah, Peninnah, Eli, Samuel, and Hannah. Our attention focused on Hannah: her fervent prayer and amazing faith. And we asked:

• Just how did Hannah endure her life as the barren, first wife of Elkanah? 
• Was Elkanah's love for Hannah sincere?
• Did he understand her life and her struggle? 
• What drove Hannah to the sanctuary at Shiloh where she poured out her heart to God? 
• Did Eli affirm her or dismiss her? 
• And most significantly, how did Hannah believe the promise with no evidence of its fulfillment? 

In preparation for worship on Sunday, read 1 Samuel 1:1 - 2:10. See if you can sing with Hannah:

There is no Holy One like the Lord, no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God. 

Seeing with Christ Eyes

The story of the Passover lies at the heart of Hebrew faith. Despite the amazing stories of "the ancestors" that we read in the book of Genesis, and even despite the glorious accounts of creation and devastating story of the fall, the story of Israel begins in Egypt and the wonder of the Exodus story. It is a story that thrills the world and has become the paradigm for freedom throughout the centuries. The Jewish Study Bible reports that Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson wanted to see the image of Moses leading the Israelites across the parted sea on the Great Seal of the United States. Many of our American ancestors considered their flight from Europe to the freedom of a new land to be a new exodus.

When the Narrative Lectionary Study Group of Seneca Presbyterian Church met to consider this story, it triggered some amazing reflections. We all shared our experiences of observing the Passover traditions of others and the devotion they reflect. I have often envied those traditions and the opportunity they present to re-live the story of freedom and deliverance.

We also reflected on what this story teaches us of God's power. Do we believe that God is still active in the world, bringing down tyrants and tearing down walls? What if it was God's hand and not human effort (or God's hand behind human effort) that brought down the Berlin Wall?

But then the image of power confused us. Just why did God "harden Pharaoh's heart"? Could there have been an easier way? And when I asked them if the story of the first Passover could become our story as Christians, the answer wasn't immediately apparent - and remains something for us to ponder. 

When we gather for worship this Sunday, we will be celebrating World Communion Sunday. We will remember the story of Passover and the story of the last Passover meal Jesus shared with his disciples. I will attempt to make some connections - and offer some reflections of what this amazingly powerful story teaches us about God - both then and now.

You can prepare for worship - and deepen your own understanding - by reading all of Exodus 1:1-15:21 - the Narrative of Liberation. 

Living with the Promise

Our narrative lectionary study group at Seneca Pres met for the first time Wednesday night- and it was marvelous! We started talking about the amazing Abraham, and the questions, comments, wonderings, and praise just kept flowing. We were amazed by his faith, wisdom, and courage. We were encouraged by his humanity. Trying to pass Sarah off as his sister -not once but twice - give me a break! (We also decided it was quite remarkable for Sarah to be considered "drop dead gorgeous" in her 70s.) We wondered about Ishmael and Hagar. Just what was Abraham's relationship to his first son? Then we realized how very differently we read this story after sharing conversation with Muslim brothers and sisters. We decided that without faith, nothing in the story would have been possible. We were grateful for a God who can take ordinary people and do extraordinary things with their lives.

So what is your take on Abraham? He was the first of the great patriarchs - and being first at anything isn't easy. Even though he was known for some impressive military victories as he rescued his nephew Lot, some high-level diplomatic debating as he tried to convince God to spare Sodom and Gomorrah, and some shrewd business maneuvers as he came away from his encounters with other kings a wealthy man - throughout the ages what distinguishes him is his faith. It was a faith that trusted in an unseen promise and a faith that trusted even more in an unseen God - a God whose promise - if only for a moment - was more important to him than his own son.

As we gather for worship at Seneca Presbyterian Church this Sunday, would you ponder with me:

• How did Abraham know to trust the voice he thought was God? 
• How lonely was the journey? 
• How often did he doubt? 
• What is the essence of faith for you and how do you hold to it as best you can? 
• If God can be partners with a man like Abraham, what might God have planned for you? 

The Big, Big Story

Could you state the heart of the Christian Gospel in only seven words? That was the challenge editors of the Christian Century put to a plethora of Christian leaders, preachers, and theologians. The point was simple: in a time of tweets and sound bites, Christians should be able to articulate the heart of faith in a simple and straightforward statement that is understood by all. Simple - not simplistic. And perhaps that's where the challenge lurks. Let me share just a couple of the entries. Writers were allowed to elaborate on their statements - in a few sentences. If you are curious, you can find all the efforts at www.christiancentury.org/7words - including the explanations.

• God gets the last word. (Martin Copenhaver) 
• We are who God says we are. (Nadia Bolz-Weber)
• God was born. We can be reborn. (Carol Howard Merritt) 
• In Christ, God's Yes defeats our No. (Beverly Roberts Gaventa)
• God refuses to be God without us. (Will Willimon)
• Israel's God's bodied love continues world-making. (Walter Brueggemann)

This Sunday at Seneca Presbyterian Church, as we begin our journey with the narrative lectionary, we will look at the heart of Hebrew and Christian faith. Two scripture texts will guide the discussion: Deuteronomy 26: 5-10 and 1 Corinthians 15:3-8. These two passages contain what Walter Brueggeman calls the "primal narrative" - the heart of faith, the foundation from which we begin. As we do, I pose these questions to you:

• If you had the challenge of teaching the biblical story from Genesis to Revelation to someone who had never heard any of it, and were limited to only five stories, which ones would they be? 
•  As a Christian, what story from the Hebrew scriptures is most important to you? 
•  What would your "Gospel in seven words" be? 

A New Season for Study Together

First off, I want to thank the people of Seneca Presbyterian Church for allowing me a week away for study. I realize it can be confusing to folk when the preacher is away but is not on vacation. Yet I am glad our Presbyterian traditions allow such things. It truly is a blessing!

 A major portion of my time this week has been spent with sermon planning for the remainder of the year. I had already decided to use a new tool in my preaching, and this week was a good time to get to know that tool better.  It's called the Narrative Lectionary. Weekly preaching is hard enough, but having the added burden of selecting a text for preaching can double up on the challenge. That's why so many preachers use THE Lectionary- namely the Revised Common Lectionary -  as their guide for preaching. A wealth of wonderful resources have been created that support preaching from those texts. They are so rich and deep that deviating from that lectionary is a bit dangerous. Yet it is a direction I've decided to take - at least for the coming year. Why?

Because the narrative lectionary is designed to see the big picture of the biblical story each year. It begins with the Old Testament in the fall, moves to focus on a Gospel between Christmas and Easter, and finishes up with texts from the early Church (Acts and the epistles) in the spring. It made perfect sense to me when I first saw it because that is precisely what I tried to do when I was an editor of children's curriculum. We all need a sense of the biblical story in sequence. We need to see just what God is up to in the world, and how that plan and purpose have been active since the moment of creation. If we can see that past, we can affirm the future - that God is not finished with us just yet. The God we have seen is the God we will continue to see, and the plan we have known is the plan we will continue to experience, until that moment when "the kingdoms of this world have become the kingdom of our God and of his Christ."

The Narrative Lectionary also has excellent resources for beginning the study of its texts each week. We plan to use them at Seneca Presbyterian. Each Wednesday evening, a group will gather to study the text for the following Sunday. They can prepare by listening to the weekly podcast and reading the weekly posting - both found at www.narrativelectionary.org. Then we'll study the text together - something of what I had hoped this blog would do, only this way will be face-to-face.

It's an experiment - but I hope it will nurture dialogue in preaching - not just monologue. Actually maybe it's trialogue - or even more. The text, the preacher, those who study with me - and the Spirit. You can see our unique schedule of study by clicking on the Narrative Lectionary page on this blog.

You can also read much more about the narrative lectionary on its web site. Click on the link in the right column in front of you. This resource comes from Luther Seminary and is part of the web site called Working Preacher.org. Thank you Lutherans for providing this terrific resource for the Church.

Who Walked With You?

Shepherd me, O God

I have been the pastor for the saints of Seneca Presbyterian Church for only two years. In these years, we've faced some difficult journeys together. Too many of those saints have walked through the land of deep darkness where they have battled for life. I am grateful to God that many have come through that journey and have arrived safely on the other side. But many have not. Many have faced tragedy that was absolutely unimaginable when first we met two years ago. Which started me to wondering. 

When a congregation selects a pastor, they look at credentials and consider theology. They analyze that first sermon to see if this is someone they can listen to for 20 minutes each week. They want to know where the person grew up and what's their favorite desert. Do they ever consider whether this person is the one they can trust to be their pastor when the way gets dark? Does it ever cross their minds that this may be the person who will visit them in the hospital or preside over a memorial service for their spouse? The thought amazes me - how significant is the choice, how trusting is the relationship, and how profound is the gift of being a pastor.

The gift of that pastoral relationship permeates the words we will consider this Sunday. They are some of the most amazing words in all scripture - the 23rd Psalm. What a treasure it is! The words are so powerful and so intimate that you know they had to come from an overwhelmingly real experience with the living God. As I have worked with the psalms over these past weeks, I have seen in them the richness of Israel's theology. I have found a new appreciation of the miracle of Hebrew faith - how in a world of distant, powerful, and disinterested gods, it articulated and embodied faith in a God who desired a relationship with humans. This is a God who can be questioned, challenged, and trusted. And the psalms do just that.

As we all prepare to worship that God this Sunday, consider:

• When have you felt led by God? 
• When have you felt protected by God? 
• When have you felt pursued by God? 
• What have been the tangible signs - the table - of God's presence in your life?

An Exercise in Empathy

www.EmpathySymbol.com

Yesterday the Thursday noon Brown Bag and Bible study group gathered at Seneca Presbyterian Church to begin our journey into the writings of the Apostle Paul. We turned to the opening verses of Paul's letter to the Philippians. We didn't have to read very far before we were overtaken by the emotions of this letter. Across the span of two thousand years, the love that Paul held for these dear friends in faith became real for us. We heard it when he spoke of joy, of how he held them in his heart, and longed for them with the compassion of Christ Jesus.

All those observations could have been just a simple intellectual exercise, but for us they became something more. I was amazed at the openness and sharing that happened among us, ignited by those words of Paul. We've always been talkative - but this time something was different. It was personal - and it was alive. It set me to wondering...

• Could it be that the honest sharing of human emotion among trusted friends is the deepest pathway to understanding, which in turn leads to reconciliation and ultimately peace?
• Could it be that we are unable to walk the journey of reconciliation until we understand the private journey of those who walk with us? 
• Could it be that the words of others, even words that are so distant from our time and place, can serve as the catalyst for deepening our own understanding and increasing our empathy for one another?

I want to test that theory this Sunday with the psalms. We have long recognized that the raw human emotions contained in the psalms can open the door for our own personal healing. But what if those words can also open the door for our inter-personal healing, for our understanding of others?  

I'll be using as my catalyst a lecture I heard from John Bell at the recent Festival of Homiletics. The stories are his - stories that come from his great capacity to engage human story as he travels the world inviting others to enter faith through song. So I am deeply appreciative of my source, and give him full credit.

I'm also glad for the opportunity to share his stories as they guide our exploration - especially of two rather unconventional psalms: Psalm 88 and Psalm 94. Neither of them appear in the lectionary. Walter Brueggemann calls Psalm 88 "an embarrassment to conventional faith." Psalm 94 could be called subversive. They are raw human emotion safely spoken aloud in God's holy presence. Read them over before Sunday - if you dare!

The Song of Faithfulness

After peering into the darkness of a searching heart in a dry land, we will consider a hymn of praise this Sunday as we gather for worship at Seneca Presbyterian. It's Psalm 103 - one of the most beautiful psalms in the psalter. "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name." As with so many of the psalms, this one has been set to music often. You can join me in dating yourself if this lyric sounds familiar:

 Oh bless the Lord my soul. His praise to thee proclaim, and all that is within me 

join to bless His holy name. Oh yeah! 

Oh bless the Lord my soul. His mercies bear in mind. 

Forget not all His benefits. The Lord to thee is kind. 

 That, of course, is the Godspell version, and if you can hear it singing within you, then the joy of that exuberant moment of the stage production must live in your memory as it does in mine. The fact that this psalm appears in a musical version of the Gospel of Matthew reminds us that Jesus would have known and sung these words in praise to the God he worshiped and served. 

Aside from its pure joy, this psalm reflects the heart of Hebrew faith. Whenever our ancestors heard it, they would have remembered a story about a broken covenant and the profoundly real anger of God. You see - when the psalmist says God will not "keep His anger forever," he is not speaking metaphorically. Perhaps you already know the story, but I'll give you a hint. It has something to do with gold and calves.

We'll remember that story this Sunday as we seek to understand the meaning of the Hebrew word hesed - which is most often translated steadfast love.We hear it four times in this psalm. A quick search of the book of Psalms turns up 245 occurrences in 121 sections - which I take to mean that the steadfast love of God is referenced in 121 of the 150 psalms, with multiple occurrences in many. In that department, Psalm 136 wins the prize. 

The joy of Psalm 103 is centered in a God who knows us, loves us, and forgives us - and around whom we can center our lives. As you prepare for worship on Sunday, ponder the wonder of that God and when His steadfast love has been real for you. Then let your "whole being" honor and bless His holy name.

My Three Robes

NOT me!

Last Sunday I "debuted" my new white robe at Seneca Presbyterian Church. I mentioned in a Facebook post that I would blog about the story of "my three robes" this week. After the other national news of last Sunday, namely the terrorist shooting at the Sikh gurdwara (which I understand is the proper term for a Sikh house of worship - not a temple), the story of my three robes seems inconsequential - except for what it might say about distinctive religious attire.

Throughout my ministry - both as a Baptist and Presbyterian pastor - I've been privileged to wear a robe when helping to lead others in worship. While we might claim that a robe is worn in order to conceal the trappings of secular attire - which are often the source of judgments about the worthiness of an individual - let's face it: a ministerial robe is a symbol of authority. I try to see that authority more as responsibility and servanthood. Wearing the robe means that I have a profound responsibility to honor God in all that I do and say while seeking to serve in the role of pastor and preacher.

The "story" I was going to share spoke of the evolution of the clergy robe during my ministerial career. Robe #1: a man's academic "gown" crafted for my height and sleeve length, but still "manly" broad in shoulder - the only option available in the '70s. Robe #2: a woman's version of a man's robe, more graceful and slender in the shoulder line, but still academic - and still with big sleeves. Robe #3: chosen from an amazing set of options designed just for women - with a touch of lace. (A plug for its creators and the source of the picture. Thank you Womenspirit for your amazing works of art!) My "story" speaks of the astonishing transformation I have seen in just my lifetime. It is the evolution of acceptance. Yet still many women who long for the robe - or the priestly attire of the Roman Catholic tradition - are kept away, for they are deemed unworthy to wear the sign of authority.

Our Sikh brothers and sister who were the victims of a hate crime last Sunday were likely targeted (at least in part) because of the Sikh tradition of wearing a turban. Osama Bin Laden wore a turban - so there was guilt by association. Such role confusion is especially tragic since it is based on two deadly wrong assumptions. Sikhism is an entirely different faith from Islam, and Bin Laden did not represent Islam. And yet within the Sikh tradition, wearing a turban began as a daring gesture. When Sikhism was founded in India, turbans were worn by only the upper classes. Yet Sikhism sought to eliminate the caste system and establish equality. Hence all would wear the turban as a sign of commitment to God and the humility of faith. (See: "For Sikhs, Turban is a Proud Symbol - and a Target," Huffington Post Religion, 8/8/12)

Such holy attire is a tradition shared by our Muslim sisters with their tradition of the hijab. Distinctive dress is a sign of spiritual devotion and all-inclusive dedication. We are called to faithfulness in every moment of our lives - not just when wearing the robe. 

What if there could be Christian "holy attire" that we would wear as an unmistakable sign of our commitment to faith, our solidarity with those who suffer because of theirs, and our opposition to all expressions of violent religious intolerance, including its Christian manifestations? Would I be courageous enough and devoted enough to wear it?

The Book of Psalms

If you have ever read through the entire book of Psalms, you know what a rich and deep gift we have at the center of our Bibles. As I mentioned to the congregation of Seneca Presbyterian last Sunday, every human emotion can be found in the Psalms - including fear, pain, sorrow, longing, anger, rage (even at God), and revenge -- along with utter delight and profound joy. 

A quick aside: If you don't believe me about revenge, read Psalm 137 all the way through. It is a lament psalm sung by exiles in Babylon - basically prisoners of war. They know utter defeat and profound despair. Its final verse has been an embarrassment to the Church for centuries. Preachers debate whether or not it should be included when the Psalm is read. (Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!) I think it was Tom Long (at this year's Festival of Homiletics) who gave the best defense for inclusion I've ever heard: Let's speak these all too human words aloud in the sanctuary, where the emotion behind them can be heard by God, and redeemed.

I encourage you to read all 150 Psalms. You will find surprising, hidden gems. You will also discover that so much of the Bible which we know "by heart" comes from the Psalms. 

• My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me? (Psalm 22) 
• Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30)
• Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46)
• Create in me a clean heart, O God. (Psalm 51)
• Make a joyful noise to the Lord. (Psalm 100)
• Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name. (Psalm 103)
• I lift my eyes to the hills. From where will my help come? (Psalm 121)

To name only a VERY few. Find a psalm that sings to you - and meditate on it day and night, as Psalm 1 suggests. You will be blessed. 

The Song of Yearning

The saints of Seneca Presbyterian are working through just a few of the psalms in our services of worship as we finish out the summer. I'll be preaching on the psalms through September 9 and WELCOME suggestions about your favorites.

The psalms are important parts of worship and multiple psalms can play a role in any singular service - so suggest away. Even if your suggestion doesn't make it to the sermon, it can be a call to worship, an affirmation of faith, or even a call to prayer.

The Psalms are the holy scripture of human emotion. They know us - what motivates us, what frightens us, what drives us, and where the fullness of life can be found. Psalm 42/43 (really one psalm)  is the focus of worship this week. It is the psalm of yearning that knows we have a longing in our hearts that can only be filled by God. It was St. Augustine who put it best: Almighty God, you have made us for yourself; and our hearts are restless til they find their rest in you. Since Augustine had tried just about everything else to calm that restlessness, he should know whereof he spoke.

Psalm 42 begins with these words: As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. 

Prepare with me for worship on Sunday by pondering these thoughts:

• When have you longed for God? 
• The psalmist speaks of thirsting for God. What metaphor best describes that longing for you?
• Did God meet your need? If so, how?  
• How long did you wait? How did you wait?
• How did you let God know of your desire and need for Him?

Then join us for worship on Sunday. We will end our time of worship by satisfying our thirst for God at the communion table of grace made real in Jesus Christ. 

Knowing Our Neighbors: Beginning the Interfaith Journey

Because of what happened in a movie theater in Aurora Colorado, the world changed today. Once again we have that numb feeling of utter shock and disbelief. For me, what is just as devastating is the premeditation and even delight a shooter seemed to take in executing such violence. I shall leave it to wiser minds than I to reflect more deeply on tragic suffering. My heart and prayers go out first to the victims and their families, including those in that theater who escaped unharmed physically - yet forever changed. My thoughts are also with every rescue worker, health care provider, and police officer who must continue to live the tragedy, along with a community who will still be grieving and coping and struggling long after the world turns its attention elsewhere.

Yet there is another reason this tragedy is important to me.

Because of what happened today, what we will do at Seneca Presbyterian Church beginning on Sunday is even more important than it was 24 hours ago. We will try to bridge gaps of ignorance and perhaps fear as we undertake the first steps in a journey of interfaith understanding among Jewish, Christian, and Muslim communities. We will try to short-circuit divisions in our world that have for centuries been the source of far too much violence and suffering and death. And because of what we will do, I wonder how we will be different a week from today.

• Will we increase our understanding and ease our discomfort with traditions and beliefs that are new to us? 
• Will we be able to ask questions openly, with trust and respect? 
• Will we go beyond learning about in order to learn of and with, putting the face of a brother and a sister in the place of what would have been a stranger? 
• Will we deepen our own faith as we hear of another's journey of faith? 
• Will we end the week better able to short circuit the stereotype or inflammatory remark, thereby somehow diminishing the risk of future violence in a divided world, if only by a whisper? 

If you can, join us beginning Sunday morning and continuing Sunday through Thursday evenings. We will gather at 6:30 p.m.

I pray the world will be different because we do.

Deliver Us

"The devil made me do it." If that expression reminds you of Flip Wilson and the Ed Sullivan show, then you are either dating yourself or you've been on YouTube recently. It is a fun way to justify the mysteries of human behavior. Or it can be a statement about the power of a "not yet" world to turn us away from faith and over to the power of sin in our own lives and in our world.

As we reach the climax of the Lord's Prayer this week, we will be struggling with how we define temptation and testing in our own lives, what it means to confront it, and how we understand the forces behind it. We will look carefully at the amazing story of the temptation of Jesus that we find at the very beginning of the Gospel, and asking some of these questions:

•  What is evil and how is it alive and well in God's good world?   
• Why was it necessary for Jesus to be tempted and tested? How did it strengthen him for his ministry? 
• How are we tempted and tested? 
• What are the forces at work in our own lives that pull us away from the will of God and the peace of God? 
• How do we find strength for the journey of faithfulness?  

And so I invite you to consider:

• When has your faith been tested? 
• When have you seen evidence of the power of evil in your life? 
• How did you find your way home?

Our quest is to find a way to affirm and live that God alone is Lord of our lives and Lord of our world. That ultimately it is not about ourselves, but about the reign of God made real, even now. 

Making It to the Party

Rembrandt: Return of the Prodigal Son

I cannot speak for my congregation, but the longer I spend with the Lord's Prayer, the more I am discovering an interesting and challenging surprise. These are not easy words! Yes - these are sacred words for they come to us directly from Jesus. Yes - these are holy words for they guide us on a spiritual path that is set by the one we call Lord. But they are not easy.

We teach them to our children - as we should - but as we do, we need to remember that this is not "Now I lay me down to sleep..." We are praying for God's kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven - and that is (forgive me for saying it) just a wee bit radical. Stop and consider the pronouns. There's not a single "I, me, or my" anywhere.

• Not "my Father" but "our Father."
• Not "my daily bread" but "our daily bread."
• Not "forgive me my sins" but "forgive us."

And then we get one of the most radical statements of all. Whether you use the word debt, trespass, or sin, the prayer doesn't let us off too quickly. Forgive us our debts as WE FORGIVE our debtors. And in case we don't quite understand, Matthew is quick to add a comment by Jesus just after he teaches us the Lord's Prayer: For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. The Gospel of Matthew seems adamant about what appears to be a condition in the forgiveness clause of the Gospel. Check out the parable in Mathew 18: 23-35 - if you dare! 

 It would seem that Jesus is insisting that his path of discipleship is inherently, inevitably, and unavoidably communal. 

So - as we approach the amazingly challenging statement on forgiveness this Sunday, I want to take a small bypass through a story that speaks a bit more softly, yet so very powerfully. We will seek to understand the path of forgiveness with the lens of the Prodigal Son - and his Elder Brother. Take a moment to remember this so very familiar story in Luke chapter 15. While you're at it, read the entire chapter. And then consider: 

Are you a Prodigal Son or an Elder Brother? 

See you Sunday!

Each Day, Daily Bread

Sunday, at Seneca Presbyterian Church, we move into the second half of the Lord's Prayer, beginning with "our daily bread." The image of bread is profound for humans. We need it to sustain life. And God wants to provide it - for everyone.
     We will be focusing on the story of the loaves and fishes as we seek to understand what "daily bread" means. That story is found at least once - sometimes more often - in every Gospel. (I confess a preference for the version found in John. It's the only one where a child offers up his loaves and fishes.) The story reminds us of Moses and manna and the wilderness wanderings of the Hebrew people.
      Can you imagine how powerful the image of Jesus feeding the multitude with five loaves and two fish must have been to those who first knew him and followed him? It spoke of justice - bread for everyone. It spoke of providence - God's unending care. It spoke of trust - what is here today will also be here tomorrow. Remember: the ancient Hebrews were only to take enough manna for one day at a time. If they let their anxiety rule and tried to save today's manna for tomorrow - the worms took over! (Don't believe me? Check out Exodus 16:20.) And it spoke of wonder - just five loaves and two fish could feed the multitude.
     We will be looking at Mark's first version of the story - the one found in chapter 6. In many ways, it is a teaching lesson in ministry for the disciples as much as it is a miracle story. When they realize the crowd is hungry and needs to eat, Jesus says, "You give them something to eat." When they protest that is impossible, he shows them how.
     Check out the story and ponder these questions:

• Would you have enjoyed being in the crowd that chased Jesus and the disciples around the Sea of Galilee?
• When have you been totally spent and tried to get away from obligations, but it didn't work? 
• How do you think Jesus expected the disciples to feed the crowd
• Verse 42 says: "And all ate and were filled." When have you been filled with the bread Jesus offers?