One and All (with video link)

based on a sermon preached to the First Presbyterian Church of Albany (beginning 27:45)
on Sunday, August 21, 2022. The Scripture lesson was Luke 13:10-17

Humans are creatures of habit. These habits are created, in part, by the social cues, we have been raised and conditioned to accept as norms, even as normal. Most of these queues are really assumptions we have come to accept, most without question or hesitation. And we accept them, I would argue, for three main reasons: 1. they have gotten us here thus far in our lives, 2. most of our senses – physical and otherwise – seem to confirm those assumptions, and 3. many of those assumptions we learned – whether by lesson or observation – from persons we respect and admire. These assumptions, social queues we have agreed, whether we realize it or not, to establish as the standard for social interaction and access, makes the world as we know it go round.

Now, the interesting thing about these assumptions that establish social normalcy and standard is that they are neither constant nor consistent. They may seem constant and consistent to us because their change happens slowly and often inadvertently, especially to those whose lives and livelihoods remain above or somewhere at or near whatever the “social standard” is. This whole process of creating standards is a constant cycle. It is, no doubt, controlled by those with social, political, and economic power to remain in power as long as they can. And it is, in fact, as long as they can because the world – the natural environment along with the social, economic, and political structures humans have built on top of it – is in constant flux. It may seem constant in the short-term appreciation of our journey through this earth.

Those of us who are in the historical arts or the social sciences can say that there are patterns for what is set as social standards. Truth is, however, that the sets of social norms are constantly changing. It is a cycle, and I would add a vicious cycle at that. Vicious and violent. Those of us who have been created in and made to believe that we are close to the social standard may be in a place where we can ignore or in fact not perceive the violence and viciousness of social standards. But it is so. It is vicious for those who seek to remain in power and stay in control for themselves and their kind. And it is violent for those who are continually created as the foundation, as the expendable grounding that support the livelihoods of others through social normalcy.

Some of us are beneficiaries of these social standards and often are taught to ignore how those benefits were achieved. We have been made to believe that some others of us are the expandable people. Structures have been created – literally and figurative structures – to not only ignore but to not perceive them. Many of us, far too many, are somewhere in that artificially created “middle” where we can decide to ignore and move about life not perceiving the viciousness of those with power to structure our social queues and the violence experienced by those whose lives have been deemed replaceable.

The trouble, even enigma of it all, is that no matter how and when we come to awareness of the viciousness and violence of the social, political, and economic standards we inhabit, many of us feel (as I am certain many of us are feeling now) that even when this social constructing might be true, there is little to nothing we can do about it. The “just go with the flow” lesson kicks in. And with that flow goes our human impetus to struggle for a better way of being. You see, humans, the social animals that we are who are also endowed, we believe, with an ability to think and analyze like no other created being, are found between two spaces that are, either, in tension or clashing against each other. On the one hand is our ability to hope – that we know that a better, more verdant, more solidarious, more equitable, more just world is possible. On the other is our drive to survive – that if I make it as close as to the norm as possible, I may just go through this life as untroubled as possible. And the reason I say that these two spaces are either in tension or clashing is because my imagination and experience can’t lead me to find a center between them. In my estimation one can keep one’s head down and go through life as undetectable as possible, or one will be very exposed, even vulnerable, for the sake of other humans and of creation. I tend to pragmatism in life, work, vocation, and service. As of today, I don’t seem to find the pragmatic in this tension and clash we have been socialized into.

Luke, the gospel writer, went headfirst on this tension and clash that was much a reality in the 1st century Roman Empire, as it is today in the United States. The story of the encounter of Jesus with a woman afflicted by a sickness for 18 years that made her be bent and unable to stand straight, and the argument with the leader of the synagogue that followed is unique to Luke. I wonder what was going on in Luke’s congregation that he decided to include this story only he seemed to have known about? The social norms and standards of the time was what framed this encounter. Illness and physical differences that were defined as limiting would have made a person untouchable – affirmed by ritual and religious language, unwelcomed, and even invisible. What is more, there were in the first century and still are in the 21st century religious believes that seek to affirm that an illness is a form of divine retribution. The gospel writer only tells us that this was a woman, ill for close to 20 years, made invisible not by any awareness of her life story, but because of how social norms separate and reject that which is created as limiting.

Many of us may ask, and should ask, who is anyone to determine what makes a human being whole and deserving of full social interaction. The argument of Jesus with the leader of the synagogue affirms two important things about religious community in particular, and about social interactions in particular. Language is also essential. One can read this lesson through, especially if this is a familiar story, and miss the nuances of language – both in Greek and in many translations. In his argument with the leader of the synagogue, Jesus clarifies the action taken, and the role of the religious community. One, is to identify the double standard that would have made the supposed healing of a person as daily work, when tending to animals that provide profit was excused as not work in the day of rest. The double standard lies in the prioritizing the benefit of some over the life and livelihood of all. Jesus goes a step further to say that even if healing was to be considered work, healing was not what Jesus did to this woman.

And here is where words are essential. The word translated to English as “infirmity” or “sick” comes from a Greek term that would have been better translated as weakness or frailty. What is more, Luke describes the condition of this woman as being afflicted by a “spirit of sickness.” And I make that point because, should Luke have wanted to identify her condition as a sickness, one that could have been addressed with medicinal knowledge, he would have used the term for such a condition. But he did not. And because the condition of the woman was described as a spirit inflicting weakness or frailty, a condition that had physical AND social repercussions for the woman, the action of Jesus as described by Luke was NOT to heal the woman, but to set her free from her illness. Jesus sees the woman, calls the woman, and touches the women setting her free from the social conditions that had made her invisible for 18 years. 18 years! And that is what Jesus argues right back to the leader of that congregation - that setting a member of the community free in order for that member to be able to be fully seen for who that person is with and in spite of the realities that might set a person apart from the artificially created social norms is not only NOT labor, but the essential role of the community of faith. Our role as witnesses of Jesus is to invest our senses in perceiving and interacting with the members of the community for who they are, and to create the conditions where, in spite of what society calls normal and excellent, people will be welcomed into a reality that provides them and all a better, more verdant, more solidarious, more equitable, more just reality. That is the good news – we are called to partner with Jesus to share the good news that God’s intention for humanity is to be with and for each other with the single standard that we are all created in the image of God.

May it be so. Amen.

Faith: A Marathon Relay

This is a sermon shared with the First Presbyterian Church of Albany based on the lesson of Hebrews 11:29-12:2

The letter to the Hebrews is, at once, a theologically profound, socially complicated, and literally awkward letter. And to be very honest, the letter to the Hebrews is one of those books in the Bible I try to avoid - as a preacher and in m pursuit of discipleship. I don’t know if it is because of my age, or the fast pace of this moment in my life - parenting, partnership, important friendship, family relationships, social leadership - but more often than not, what I would like to do in whatever spare time I have is to see some mindless TV program, or listen to a similarly mindless radio show or podcast, or read an article or a book that would catch my interest because of the cleverness of the use of words and not necessarily because of any depth it might have. If there is a book in the Bible that is neither of these is the Letter to the Hebrews.

From the opening of the letter, one realizes that this is a book that requires intentional presence because as one reads it seems that one is either missing the point or it is going over one’s head. And by saying this I am not trying to judge any one person’s reading comprehension and analytical abilities. But I know I am not far into reading the letter to the Hebrews by the time I realize that the image and sound in my head are those of the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons. (And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, just web search “Peanuts teacher”, and play a video. You’ll know what I’m talking about!)

 The danger with unbridled mindlessness, I think, is that it goes against our very human nature. One thing is to find quality time for frivolity and relaxation. A whole other thing is to pretend like we can ignore in any significant way the reality of who we are, the world we live in, and the people we are surrounded by - some by choice, and others by default. This is my unscientific, extroverted analysis of it: we are social animals, built to be in relationship in order to find meaning and sustenance for life. Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, there is much more to life and living than one’s ability to keep a fresh jug of milk in the refrigerator. Most of us know that even that most basic expectation of keeping fresh milk in the fridge is much more complicated to many both far and near to us. Whether we want it or not, whether we like it or not, I think our human drive to life and to living moves us often, not to say constantly, wanting to figure out how to make life and living better for us and for those around us as far in degrees of the relationship as we can possibly handle.

Religion is one of the ways humans have sought to make sense of the challenge of making things better for ourselves and for other humans. A connection to the transcendent, to the divine, to a power we cannot articulate nor comprehend, is one of the things that provide us the drive to figure life out for ourselves and for others. Christians define that drive as faith. Often used as a synonym for religious belief, the Random House Unabridged Dictionary defines “faith”, among other things as, “confidence or trust in a person or thing”, and as “belief that is not based on proof.” I don’t know about you, but confidence, trust, and the ability to believe without proof are quite difficult to find in a time where we are inundated at once with so much knowledge and with so little wisdom, a time where many in public discourse are trying to make lies plausible, and truth an exercise in futility. 

As a pastor and historian, I know these challenges are not unique to our time. Those who have achieved political, social, and religious power will seek to make truth whatsoever will support their ability to remain in that power. That was true in the late 1st-century community that first read the letter to the Hebrews, and that is true for us - religious communities seeking to witness a better, more community-based, more expansive, more inclusive way of being. 

Our predecessors in the faith had a different understanding of what faith was and what was it for. At the opening of chapter 11, the writers of the letter to the Hebrews write that

“…faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

Beyond confidence, trust, and belief, faith for our early Christian ancestors was about assurance, hope, and conviction. What is more, the good news for us this morning is that such assurance, hope, and conviction is, an inheritance, a practice we can get better at, and a legacy we can and should leave to those who will come after us to articulate better ways of being community with and for each other. In his book, Peaceworks, Catholic spiritual director and theologian Henri Nouwen wrote that today

…we face a threat qualitatively different from all other previous threats and we do not have a fitting model for a response… As humanity we have entered a period in which our faith is being stripped of all support systems and defense mechanism. But it is precisely with this naked faith that we are called to build a community of hope that is able to resist the darkness of our age.

Even when the challenges we are facing in the greater scheme of things are not unique, I do agree with Father Nouwen that the realities we live in are qualitatively different from anything humans have faced before. The good news is, I think, that faith is not something we accomplish, but something we exercise. Working for goodness, well-being, peace, justice, and love is not a race any one of us can complete. It is more of a marathon, a relay. No one is expected to get their first. Each one of us is only expected to run our part as long and as fast as we can, only that. We have received the story of peace, justice, and reconciliation from an ancestor. We are only expected to run with that story in witness and presence in our community. Someone will pick up our version of the story of peace, justice, and reconciliation because they will have known of it through you and me. And so the marathon, the relay continues. 

And Jesus is before us in this marathon relay. Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter of faith and of the practice of faith. Life, and life abundant, a joyful life, a reconciled life is what awaits us. Exercising the faith we have inherited is practicing that way of living fully and abundantly with, for, and, alongside each other. We just need to pick up our part of the relay. That way we will witness our assured hope and conviction that a better world is possible and imminent. 

May it be so. Amen.

Blessed Continuums, Woeful Binaries (video)

A lesson for the gospel of Luke (6.17-26, NRSV)

17 He went down with them and stood on a level place. A large crowd of his disciples was there and a great number of people from all over Judea, from Jerusalem, and from the coastal region around Tyre and Sidon, 18 who had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases. Those troubled by impure spirits were cured, 19 and the people all tried to touch him, because power was coming from him and healing them all.

20 Looking at his disciples, he said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.
21 Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
22 Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.

23 “Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.

24 “But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have already received your comfort.
25 Woe to you who are well fed now,
    for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now,
    for you will mourn and weep.
26 Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you,
    for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

I find it quite unfortunate that the Greek verb “iato” on verse 19, from the infinitive “iaomai”, is translated to “healing.” It is done this way throughout the Gospels. I find it unfortunate because in all – Koine Greek, English and Spanish, my mother lounge – to heal, aiomai, sanar, means much more than being healed from some feeling of ailment in your body. The Gospel lesson speaks of power coming out of Jesus (I love the choice of words!) and healing everyone.

And notice that the “everyone” in that narrative was a large group of people that included his disciples, folks of the ethnic and religious group of Jesus, and people that were intentionally othered. A veritably diverse group of folks gathered in that leveled field to meet Jesus, listen to him, and touch him because they wanted to be encouraged and healed. I do not think that the power of God that emanated from Jesus simply healed anyone. It certainly did not heal in any way you or I have been conditioned to understand what being healed means. The systems that we occupy – the US version of representative government, social capitalism, and US Protestant religiosity – have devised concepts and ideas that reduce to binaries the way we relate to each other in community. One is either rich or poor, healthy or sick, fed or hungry, sheltered or homeless, abled or disabled, a cis-gender heterosexual or not, Christian or not, white or otherwise.

“...(many) believe that voting-in a diversity, equity, and inclusion policy, adding more diverse pictures to social media, and writing more inclusive words to our websites is all it takes to bend the long “arc of the moral universe… towards justice” (Martin Luther King, Jr.), expecting for that bending to happen swiftly and efficiently. ”

Notice not only the fact that these are binaries. Each one of those is articulated to make white, Protestant, wealthy, heteronormativity the standard of comparison. Supremacy and othering are the core, they are downright sins of our society and our time. To measure in binaries is an attempt at nothing but the destruction of that which is unknown willingly with the purpose to control and profit. I hope I don’t have to convince anyone reading this that the American social order and Church, all along the spectrum – from progressives to evangelicals, from reformists to conservatives – are part and parcel of the articulation of white supremacy and marginalization. It runs so deep that many in the majority, especially those in authority, believe that voting-in a diversity, equity, and inclusion policy, adding more diverse pictures to social media, and writing more inclusive words to our websites is all it takes to bend the long “arc of the moral universe… towards justice” (Martin Luther King, Jr.), expecting for that bending to happen swiftly and efficiently.

The gospel lesson is challenging our binary ways. I would say that the gospel goes into a full-on attack on the binaries that have normalized how we engage and are community. Verses 24 to 26 talk about how woeful it is for those who think themselves rich, well-fed, and praised. Think about it, in a world of binaries there is nowhere beyond wealth, stocked private pantries and refrigerators, and political capital. You could quantify greater accumulation, but there is really no growth. There are no real nuances in binaries.  

“...communities that live and work with and for the wellbeing of each other. It is through that work of diversity, solidarity, peace, and justice that the power of the divine will come out restoring the dignity of everyone, and encouraging the newness of self-determination, inclusion, and love...”

As we face the very real and seemingly unassailable political and social systems that perpetrate and perpetuate the violence of disenfranchisement, poverty, and marginalization, the gospel lesson is a veritable source of good news. The way Jesus articulates the blessings are an invitation to relationship, community engagement, and solidarity. Poverty, hunger, and weeping are met with a promise and invitation to a new political and social order that guarantees justice, nourishment, and gladness. The way to sustain the bending towards justice of the arc of the moral universe is with intentionality, solidarity, and community. And Jesus demonstrates just that in this lesson. Here and throughout his ministry, Jesus places himself often in vulnerable spaces, in situations where he engages with the unknown. His teachings and his actions emanate from this being with a community – be that his disciples, the multitude, or a smaller group of close friends. The opening of the lesson is revealing of what we, as followers of Jesus, should be putting ourselves in the middle of: gathering with the multitudes of those with whom we feel connected and of those whose othering narratives we have bought into. For it is in the gathering of the marginalized, the disenfranchised, and the poor where we will see and experience the power of Jesus manifested. The power that Jesus shared did not heal the way we think it did. The power of the world affirms ableist, heteronormative, capitalist, nationalist ways that bring destruction, degradation, sickness, hunger, and authoritarianism. The power of the world encourages those who can check as many boxes as possible in the checklist of binaries to do work for those who are poor and disenfranchised.

The power that came out of Jesus restored the very livelihoods of everyone that experienced it, creating a whole new community among those who moments before were strangers, others to each other. The gospel lesson is calling every person of good will, and summons the Church, to live into the hopes and opportunities of diversity, solidarity, peace, and justice. These are not accomplished through statements, bylaws, or policies. These are lived in communities that live and work with and for the wellbeing of each other. It is through that work of diversity, solidarity, peace, and justice that the power of the divine will come out restoring the dignity of everyone, and encouraging the newness of self-determination, inclusion, and love – a new community of folks who will suddenly find themselves restored, human beings made whole with and for each other.

To see and/or listen to the sermon shared with the

Presbyterian New England Congregational Church, please click here.