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Scripture Numbers 27:1-11
Numbers 27:1-11 (Common English Bible) 27 The daughters of Zelophehad, Hepher’s son, Gilead’s grandson, Machir’s great-grandson, and Manasseh’s great-great-grandson, belonging to the clan of Manasseh son of Joseph, came forward. His daughters’ names were Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. 2 They stood before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the chiefs, and the entire community at the entrance of the meeting tent and said, 3 “Our father died in the desert. He wasn’t part of the community who gathered against the Lord with Korah’s community. He died for his own sin, but he had no sons. 4 Why should our father’s name be taken away from his clan because he didn’t have a son? Give us property among our father’s brothers.” 5 Moses brought their case before the Lord. 6 The Lord said to Moses: 7 Zelophehad’s daughters are right in what they are saying. By all means, give them property as an inheritance among their father’s brothers. Hand over their father’s inheritance to them. 8 Speak to the Israelites and say: If a man dies and doesn’t have a son, you must hand his inheritance over to his daughters. 9 If he doesn’t have a daughter, you will give his inheritance to his brothers. 10 If he doesn’t have any brothers, you should give his inheritance to his father’s brothers. 11 If his father had no brothers, you should give his inheritance to his nearest relative from his clan. He will take possession of it. This will be a regulation and a case law for the Israelites, as the Lord commanded Moses. Leader: A Word of God that is still speaking, People: Thanks be to God. Artist Statement they stood by lauren wright pittman graphic image | inspired by numbers 27:1-11 I imagine the daughters had to fill the entire tent in order to be heard. I imagine Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah took the shape of the tent of meeting, a place where they were met by powerful men, a place of sacrifice and worship—not a place where a woman’s voice was often heard. The text says the women came forward; they stood, they spoke, they questioned, and they even demanded. Any one of those actions alone is difficult for the unseen and unheard. All they wanted was to receive the inheritance of their father and to keep his name from fading. I’m sure the pain of their father’s death was potent, but they needed to be recognized, valued, and seen as human beings in order to survive. The catalyst for this moment isn’t only the women’s strength; it also took a man in power to listen, to open his heart, to wrestle, and to offer his grasp over this patriarchal law to God. When Moses offered up his control and dared to consider a new way, God heard the voices of these women. “They are right,” God said. The old law was no longer suitable, so God made way for change. Though the laws were probably carved into stone, God shows us in this text that the law is living, breathing, adaptable, and changing. This text invites us to come forward, to stand, to speak, to question, and to demand change when we experience injustice. When the powers in place don’t budge, that is not the end of the story. When you personally aren’t experiencing injustice, that does not mean you should bask in your comfort. For those whose voices are less valued, for those who go unseen, for those who have fought a long and continuing fight, we must breathe life into those old, tired, worn-out laws. In this image, the winds of change, the breath of God, surrounds the tent of meeting and the voice of God descends on these women, hearing their cry. New life sprouts from the ground as the law is heard afresh. —Lauren Wright Pittman Reflection Questions (from Faces of our Faith Study Guide) • How do the daughters make their case before Moses? What rationale do they present? How might this new law affect their tribe as a whole? • In his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. argues the differences between just and unjust laws. How do you discern the difference between laws that are just and unjust? How does God define what is just? What current laws might need to be re-examined? • How do we lift our voices and share our truth with one another in our community? How do we balance power and listen to the voices of all, especially those at the edge of “the tent?” Sermon A few years ago, I became aware of a man named Frank Caprio. Frank Caprio is a judge in Providence, RI. He was born there to a father who was an immigrant from Italy and an Italian American mother whose family had also emigrated from Italy. He has spent most of his life living in the city. While a high school teacher in Providence, he attended night school in Boston for a law degree. Since 1985 he’s been a Providence Municipal Court Judge….and that has led him to some internet fame, when in 2017, videos of him went viral. Turns out he had been hosting a TV show called Caught in Providence that ran on the cable access for years - it featured him presiding over low-level court cases involving citations - mostly parking tickets and traffic violations. But the way he presides is unique. Here’s one episode, airing from Martin Luther King Jr. day from 2018: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpkBda9arfA Now, for many of us, a parking ticket or other traffic violation may not be a big deal - frustrating for sure, annoying but hardly a hardship, financially or otherwise. Many people who appear before Judge Caprio would be hard pressed to come up with the $25 to pay their tickets, who need that money to buy milk or keep a roof over their heads. What I see in what Judge Caprio offers is compassion and understanding - seeing the stories of people in their contexts, and knowing that justice - even in these minor cases - is not holding them to the letter of the law and exacting fines from them, but offering them mercy, a second chance, an opportunity to move forward. It may not be actually changing the law - like what happens in our story for this morning - but it represents a broader understanding of justice that points to some of the dynamics from our passage this morning. What we have from scripture today is the daughters of Zelophehed - Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah - women who are named in scripture, which generally means - pay attention. That this story is mentioned at all is a remarkable thing, given that at that time in history, and indeed, throughout much of history, property was inherited by the men - upon a man’s passing, the inheritance was divided among his sons, or in the absence of sons, divided among his brothers, or if he had no sons and no brothers, divided among his father’s brothers. The fact that this story was preserved and written down meant that the interaction these women had with Moses and the priests conveyed something important about God - namely, that God said, “yes - the law you have now isn’t right. Change it for them - and for any women whose father dies leaving no sons.” Certainly Moses could have said - well, you ladies are tough out of luck. The law is the law - no inheretance for you. You’ll have to beg off of your uncles for a place in their households. He instead brings it before God - knowing, as intimately as Moses knew God, that he was giving up his own power and say in the matter. God writes a new law - one that is more just, one that more fully took into consideration the needs of those who would have been disempowered by the old law. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail: “there are two types of laws: there are just laws, and there are unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that "An unjust law is no law at all." Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine when a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law, or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas, an unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust…An unjust law is a code that a majority inflicts on a minority that is not binding on itself. This is difference made legal. On the other hand, a just law is a code that a majority compels a minority to follow, and that it is willing to follow itself.” This discussion and understanding is really important right now as we consider what justice looks like - as we consider (and watch) how laws are applied unequally based on whether or not one has power and access to good lawyers and how over time the rules in our country have prevented minority groups from accumulating wealth and economic power as a whole. And while we can disagree politically on how that all plays out in our society, what I cannot deny is how God continues throughout scripture to consider and prioritize the needs of the poor, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. Those on the fringes, those without power because of circumstance - family death, illness. Those who cannot fully advocate for themselves in the normal places of power. We see it in the Hebrew Bible with the laws - we see it in the actions of Jesus. How we hold these truths together as a community says a lot about whose voices we prioritize. People notice what we stand for as a church - and what we don’t. It is in those places, standing with those who have been dismissed and dehumanized, where the church finds its greatest strength and relevance, its deepest convictions and moral witness. Standing with the powerful and wealthy, with the status quo - we’ve seen how that has played out for the church as a whole. God tends not to look favorably when the church aligns itself with systems of power and dominance - whether that be the Roman Empire or America. God consistently works to bring the voices and stories of those on the edges of society to the fore, even - and especially - when it makes the dominant group uncomfortable. Because as we talked about last week - each person is God’s beloved child. Each person is valued - and when our culture or society tries to tell us otherwise, it’s our obligation as people who follow Jesus to push back and listen to the voices and experiences of those whose very personhood is threatened and who are systematically being disenfranchised. The story of these women who were courageous enough to confront their legal and religious authorities reminds us of the many people who have stood up and shared their injustices and pleaded for a new way. It reminds us of places where we can be allies and stand in solidarity, lifting up their stories, working to make change as we understand how everything - everything - must be seen in its context and wholeness. It reminds us that being God’s people together is about the willingness to put everything else to the side for the sake of love - love of God, love of others - and not a charitable love that assumes we know what’s best - but a love steeped in justice that enables us to hear the call of God in the stories of the other. This morning we’ll close in song - it’s a new one for all of us (I just learned it this week too) - it’s about being the people of God - the daring it takes to imagine what that means in this world, the courage it takes to live that out together, and the trust it takes to commit to that love above all else - and the ways it will change us, and the ways that it invites the church to change as well. Let us stand and sing together. *Hymn - Imagine the People of God (will need lyric sheet) Imagine, Imagine the people of God Imagine the people of God Believing, receiving, becoming God’s love Imagine the people of God Imagine, Imagine the people of God Imagine the people of God Caring, sharing God’s love in the world Imagine the people of God Seeking the way of Jesus Christ Trusting the courage to change Being God’s love with neighbors and friends Imagine the people of God Growing, Becoming Community Imagine the people of God Trusting in God’s abundant grace Speaking the truth in love. Nourished in the Spirit’s power We are your people, O God Imagine, Imagine the people of God Imagine the people of God Believing, receiving, becoming God’s love We are your people, O God
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Scripture Exodus 1:8-22
Exodus 1:8-22 (NRSV) 8 Now a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. 9 He said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are more numerous and more powerful than we. 10 Come, let us deal shrewdly with them, or they will increase and, in the event of war, join our enemies and fight against us and escape from the land.” 11 Therefore they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor. They built supply cities, Pithom and Rameses, for Pharaoh. 12 But the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and spread, so that the Egyptians came to dread the Israelites. 13 The Egyptians subjected the Israelites to hard servitude 14 and made their lives bitter with hard servitude in mortar and bricks and in every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks that they imposed on them. 15 The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, 16 “When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women and see them on the birthstool, if it is a son, kill him, but if it is a daughter, she shall live.” 17 But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live. 18 So the king of Egypt summoned the midwives and said to them, “Why have you done this and allowed the boys to live?” 19 The midwives said to Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian women, for they are vigorous and give birth before the midwife comes to them.” 20 So God dealt well with the midwives, and the people multiplied and became very strong. 21 And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families. 22 Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, “Every son that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every daughter live.” Leader: A Word of God that is still speaking, People: Thanks be to God. *Hymn - For One Great Peace (FWS 2185) This thread I weave, this step I dance, this stone I carve, this ball I bounce, this nail I drive, this pearl I string, this flag I wave, this note I sing. This pot I shape, this fire I light, this fence I leap, this bone I knit, this seed I nurse, this rift I mend, this child I raise, this earth I tend. This check I write, this march I join, this faith I state, this truth I sign, this is small part, in one small place, of one heart's beat for one great Peace. Sermon [put artwork up] In preparing for this week’s sermon, I came across this story - I saw it shared by the Mechanicsburg Presbyterian Church. I offer it today as we begin our exploration of the text: Jacqueline Murekatete grew up on a farm in Rwanda. She was the second oldest of seven children. She and her family were members of the Tutsi tribe. In April 1994, Jacqueline, who was 9 years old at the time, was visiting with her grandmother as Hutu men armed with guns, machetes, and clubs descended on the village. Jacqueline and her grandmother moved from place to place, always in hiding. They eventually found a Hutu family who were hiding Tutsis. A week later they were discovered but by some miracle the men who found them gave a warning and left saying that they would be back. Eventually, her grandmother would take her to an orphanage run by Italian priests who decided to stay to protect the children at the risk of their own lives. While she was there, she was reunited with cousins who told her how her village and family was destroyed. Most of her family had been killed, including her grandmother. Eventually, in October of 1995, her uncle living in New York City was able to adopt her and fly her in as an asylum seeker. What a beautiful and heartbreaking story of deliverance and survival as she escaped the horrors of genocide….of courage and bravery on the part of the Hutu family who resisted and chose to shelter fleeing Tutsis. Throughout history, we see examples of people who chose to protect and liberate at the risk of great personal danger - whether that be the Underground Railroad guiding formerly enslaved folks to freedom or Germans and others who housed Jews and other targeted people, or in this case, the Rwandan genocide. In our story this morning, a new pharaoh rose to power in Egypt - one who didn’t have the same kind of relationship with Joseph - and by extension, Joseph’s family. Joseph, though he was sold into enslavement by his brothers, eventually found a position of power and security in Pharaoh’s household, and when there was a famine in the land - a famine so severe it impacted the land of Canaan and Joseph's family - all of his brothers and his father and servants and their families and children and livestock came to live in Egypt, where Joseph, out of his power and wealth, helped secure their livelihoods. Once a new power was on the throne, however, all bets were off. The prosperity and proliferation of the Hebrew people became seen as a threat to Egyptian power. Fear and feelings of superiority led the pharaoh to enslave them, forcing them to build supply cities and dealing with them harshly in their labor. He pit the Egyptian people against the Hebrew people by setting task masters over them. When this only served to make the Hebrews more numerous, he called in Shiphrah and Puah, and gave the command for genocide - kill the baby boys and let the baby girls live. There’s a fascinating bit to this story - it’s unclear if Shiphrah and Puah are Egyptians or Hebrew women. The text can be translated either as Hebrew midwives or as Egyptian midwives to the Hebrews. Some scholarship argues that these two women were Egyptian - because it would have been natural for Hebrew women to disregard and disobey Pharaoh’s orders. Shiphrah and Puah - most likely “head midwives”, are addressed directly by the pharaoh with this command. But because of these two women and their fear of God, they did not do as they were told. I have to wonder if part of this is also because these two women saw the humanity of the Hebrew people. The pharaoh, through his enslavement campaign, through fear and manipulation, had tried to dehumanize this whole group of people in the eyes of the Egyptians - trying to make them see that Hebrews are no better than laborers, beasts of burden, animals of the field. After all, that’s the lie that Shiphrah and Puah construct to cover their disobedience and throw back in Pharaoh’s face - that the Hebrew women are so strong in the field that they give birth before any one is there to help them, just like animals do. In reality, Shiphrah and Puah come face to face with the humanity of the Hebrew people each time they assist at a birth. If you’ve ever been in the room with a pregnant person giving birth, you’d be hard pressed not to see the humanity in the midst of the labor struggle. Shiphrah and Puah would be in the thick of things, giving words of encouragement, breathing alongside the mother, giving physical support. They would be in the homes of the Hebrew families, watching the love and tenderness of welcoming new life into the world, watching the grief and pain with miscarriages or ended pregnancies. Pharaoh’s attempt to dehumanize the Hebrew people failed with Shiphrah and Puah because of the ways they were willing to encounter the other and because of their sense of who God is - and this gave them the courage to stand up to Pharaoh and to live in a way that resisted his attempts to oppress the Hebrew people into submission and subservience. One of the things I find fascinating about these two women - and indeed, the many unnamed women in this story who continued to choose birth and life even in the face of oppression - is that their resistance to systems of power isn’t necessarily direct confrontation. That comes later in Exodus, with Moses leading the people out. Their resistance is a quiet defiance, a cunning working within the system, a simple living an alternative witness to the accepted cultural narrative of power and dominance of the superiority of the Egyptian people. “They Said No” by Lisle Gwynn Garity writes this about her artwork: These midwives, these lowest-of-the-low-status-women who likely had no husbands, who were simply glorified servants, who, themselves, may have been deemed infertile and therefore useless to a family system, risk everything to say no. Through this simple but mighty act, they change the course of history so that, many, many years later, another baby boy born into a dark world of genocide might also survive and flourish and grow up to redeem the world. In this painting, these hands represent the women’s resistance. They are the hands that said no to a power-hungry ruler but yes to a God of justice—to a God who transforms a story of massacre into one of liberation. The impact of their actions, like the waters of the Nile, ripples out far beyond them. I think about this as well from our opening story this morning - the family of Hutus who chose to harbor Jacqueline so that she might get to safety, who chose to say no and see the humanity of many Tutsi people so they might be saved. This family remains unnamed in what we heard, but because of their action, Jacqueline survived - and is a human rights activist and founder of the Genocide Surviors Foundation. Her work revolves around preventing genocide worldwide while also assisting other survivors in the areas of education, economic empowerment, health, and legal aid. One quiet act of resistance resulted in hope for others impacted by genocide - and puts forth a vision for a world where these kinds of atrocities driven by hate and bigotry do not exist. I don’t think it’s a stretch to consider what’s happening in our world - in our country - today as an attempt by systems of power and dominance to continue to demonize “the other” - anyone who is different, anyone who doesn’t fit into the image of “normal” in some way shape or form. We see it in the laws that get passed, the rights that get taken away, the acts of violence that keep cropping up everywhere we look. We see this in subtle - and in not so subtle - ways, and in particular, we see the rise of extremism and while many people when directly confronted would not say that there is a group of people they hate, how this gets played out in our society right now is framing Black folks and other people of color, women, LGBTQ individuals and their families, disabled people, and children as less deserving of humanity than others. Our faith calls all people God’s beloved children. People we don’t agree with, people who rub us the wrong way, people who look and act differently than us, people who the world tries to tell us we’re better than, people we may want to call unworthy. That’s the beauty of our faith that is threatening to people who want to hoard power and domination - because to dominate means that you are putting yourself or your group over that of another. There isn’t room for that in God’s kingdom. There isn’t room for that in the church. There isn’t room for that among people who seek to follow Jesus. That’s the vision of justice that Shiphrah and Puah in their act of resistance were birthing - saying no to co-operating worldly power and claiming better-than status…and saying yes to God…and in doing so, changing the course of history. Shiphrah and Puah remind us to live lives of resistance to systems of power and domination and to live as people who answer to God. That may look like having curious conversations with people who have harmful ideologies. That may look like intentionally building a Spirit-filled community of radical love and care - like Mary Jane shared in her sermon a couple of weeks ago - going out of our way to welcome children or refugees, to do menial tasks for those who are feeling overwhelmed, to see beyond the surface needs of others around us and tend to the things that nourish one another. We are midwives of justice - our hands are Christ’s hands - as we partner with God to be examples of what God’s love on earth looks like in action. May we choose to live as witnesses, to say yes to God’s path, to be ripples of justice echoing out into the world, to stand against the dehumanizing powers of this world - because we serve a God who gave up power and status and every privilege to live among us in the flesh, who resisted systems of power and domination in the way he taught and healed and ate with others, who loved us even unto death to demonstrate the depth of love, and who rose again in defiance of death itself. May we seek to always live the path of Jesus. Amen. Scripture Genesis 2:4b-25
A note about the scripture passage translation: I used Wilda Gafney's A Woman's Lectionary for the Whole Church: Year W to adapt the passage from The Message - hence the use of "it" as a pronoun in reference to the human and "side" as opposed to "rib." Genesis 2:4b-25 (The Message, adapted) This is the story of how it all started, of Heaven and Earth when they were created. 5-7 At the time God made Earth and Heaven, before any grasses or shrubs had sprouted from the ground—God hadn’t yet sent rain on Earth, nor was there anyone around to work the ground (the whole Earth was watered by underground springs)—God formed the human out of dirt from the ground and blew into its nostrils the breath of life. The human came alive—a living soul! 8-9 Then God planted a garden in Eden, in the east. He put the human he had just made in it. God made all kinds of trees grow from the ground, trees beautiful to look at and good to eat. The Tree-of-Life was in the middle of the garden, also the Tree-of-Knowledge-of-Good-and-Evil. 10-14 A river flows out of Eden to water the garden and from there divides into four rivers. The first is named Pishon; it flows through Havilah where there is gold. The gold of this land is good. The land is also known for a sweet-scented resin and the onyx stone. The second river is named Gihon; it flows through the land of Cush. The third river is named Hiddekel and flows east of Assyria. The fourth river is the Euphrates. 15 God took the human and set it down in the Garden of Eden to work the ground and keep it in order. 16-17 God commanded the human, “You can eat from any tree in the garden, except from the Tree-of-Knowledge-of-Good-and-Evil. Don’t eat from it. The moment you eat from that tree, you’re dead.” 18-20 God said, “It’s not good for the human to be alone; I’ll make it a helper, a companion.” So God formed from the dirt of the ground all the animals of the field and all the birds of the air. He brought them to the human to see what it would name them. Whatever the human called each living creature, that was its name. The human named the cattle, named the birds of the air, named the wild animals; but it didn’t find a suitable companion. 21-22 God put the human into a deep sleep. As it slept he removed one of its sides and replaced it with flesh. God then used the side that he had taken from the human to make a Woman and presented her to the human. 23-25 The human said, “Finally! Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh! Name her Woman for she was made from a Man.” Therefore a man leaves his father and mother and embraces his wife. They become one flesh. The two of them, the Man and his woman, were naked, but they felt no shame. Leader: A Word of God that is still speaking, People: Thanks be to God. *Hymn - We are in God (from Music that Makes Community) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFenw5mEM3A&t=2s, start at 00:45, Natalie Renee Perkins Sermon We’re starting our Faces of our Faith: Bold and Untold stories with the story of Adam and Eve. Now, you might be thinking, how is this a bold and untold story? Adam and Eve are two of The Most well-known characters in the Bible, right? This is a story we know. God makes Adam - the human, the human feels lonely, God creates creatures from the dust - like the human is made from - nothing fits, and so God takes a side of this mud-soil-earth creature to create this other being - and now the human isn’t one, but two - man and woman - and the human - now man - recognizes a suitable partner. Maybe the story as you learned it - much as I learned it - involved ribs and Adam and Eve and an apple and a snake, some of which are in the story and some of which are not (spoiler, the fruit is never mentioned by name!). It probably also involved a flannel board and fig leaves. But here are some fun facts for you all before we take a closer look at this story:
Other than these fun little facts about this story - why include it in our Bold and Untold Faces of our Faith series? To me, it’s because origin stories mean something. Watch just about any Marvel movie (or the questionably done Star Wars prequels - but you and I can have conversations about that later) and a large portion of the narrative deals with the why and how - why does this person have the superpower they do and how did they reconcile themselves to their abilities? What does it mean for how the rest of the world relates to them and their story? How did they become who they are today? The story of Adam and Eve functions in the same way - it’s a story used to answer some of the fundamental questions of who we are as humans and why are we here and what is our relationship to God and to each other supposed to look like. We get this vision of a God who gets hands dirty in the rich soil, fashioning a human out of the humus and breathing into them the breath of life - a God who demonstrates a particular concern for the human’s well-being and who will go to great lengths to provide - food, companionship, enjoyment. In Genesis 1 we get a lot of “and God saw that it was good” after each step - and here, God notices that there is something not good - a lack of connection and relationship for the human - and so God continues to create. We see an intimacy with God and the land and each other - with the two humans showing a partnership of equals, a relationship that is mutually beneficial. The final two verses indicate that this story served a specific purpose for those who would have heard it - why people leave homes for the sake of others (and while many times people think about this passage in terms of procreation, it is not actually mentioned in the story). But even more than this, our creation story points to our need for one another - and to be sure, marriage is one way of understanding this - but also our need for chosen family, deep friendships, investment in intergenerational relationships, choosing to see “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” as a recognition of the ways we are knit and held together, of a willingness to be in connection with each other that is mutual and interdependent. This is a beautiful message and one of the core truths of our faith - that we are created with this deep need for each other. Nature alone isn’t enough. Animals alone aren’t enough. Even God alone isn’t enough. The story of Adam and Eve shows us that we have this sacred need to know and be known by others. It’s part of how God creates us to be in this world. When we understand this about ourselves, about our innate and divinely-created desire for communion with others, we can both celebrate and affirm the places where we’ve found that kind of connection with others. Perhaps we experienced that in our family of origin - or perhaps we’ve had to find that sense of belonging beyond our biological relationships. Perhaps we’ve found friends that feel like an extension of our own soul, or we’ve had moments with strangers that give us glimpses into our shared humanity. We can find these moments of partnership, cooperation, solidarity while marching on the streets in demonstration, while serving at the soup kitchen, while lounging on the beach, or participating in worship. We may not find this connection with everyone all the time, but here as a church - as the body of Christ - as people who are trying to live as Jesus invites us to live with one another - we seek to embody and affirm and invite these kinds of connections with each other. When you came into worship today, you received a strip of paper. On this paper, I invite you to write one word describing what you gain from being in community with others - well, one word or phrase. We have these strips of blue and green and brown - reminding us of the ways that baptism claims us in community and the ways that we are formed from earth, connecting us with all of creation. When you have written your word or phrase down, I invite you to come up and connect it to this chain here that we’ll have on the altar during our summer series. [music] Our Adam and Eve origin story reminds us of our deep need for one another - and to be a people who offer that kind of community and connection for others. Father Richard Rohr, in one of this week’s meditations from the Center for Action and Contemplation writes this: “Reality as communion” is the template and pattern for our entire universe, from atoms to galaxies, and certainly in human community. We come to know who God is through exchanges of mutual knowing and loving. God’s basic method of communicating God’s self is not the “saved” individual, the rightly informed believer, or even a person with a career in ministry. God communicates primarily through the journey and bonding process that God initiates in community: in marriages, friendships, families, tribes, nations, schools, organizations, and churches who are seeking to participate in God’s love, maybe without even consciously knowing it. Until and unless Christ is experienced as a living relationship between people, the gospel remains largely an abstraction. Until Christ is passed on personally through faithfulness and forgiveness toward another, through concrete bonds of union, I doubt whether he is passed on by words, sermons, institutions, or ideas. Living in community means living in such a way that others can access me and influence my life. It means that I can get “out of myself” and serve the lives of others. Community is a world where kinship with each other is possible. By community I don’t mean primarily a special kind of structure, but a network of relationships. If the Trinity reveals that God is relationship itself, then the goal of the spiritual journey is to discover and move toward connectedness on ever new levels. The contemplative mind enjoys union on all levels. We may begin by making little connections with nature and animals, and then grow into deeper connectedness with people. Finally, we can experience full connectedness as union with God and frankly everything. Without connectedness and communion, we don’t exist fully as our truest selves. Becoming who we really are is a matter of learning how to become more and more deeply connected. No one can possibly go to heaven alone—or it would not be heaven when they got there. May this week be a one of celebrating connections and community - as we understand and live more fully into our place of belonging with God, with creation, and also with one another. Amen. |
AuthorPastor Melissa Yosua-Davis has been serving the community of Chebeague and its church since July 2015. She currently lives on the island with her husband and five year old son and 2 year old daughter, along with their yellow lab. Read here recent sermon excerpts, thoughts on life and faith, and current announcements for the church community. She also blogs at Going on to Perfection. Archives
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