Thursday, April 14, 2016

Today was a really good day!


It was a good day! Met a person who was at a UCC church in another town but living here now and looking for a church at a Chamber SOHO event (which also had a good speaker talking about networking)... had a very good meeting with the county coordinated services team, and some great conversation with the new director of public health in chippewa county... got 4 packs of 400 black post-it-notes on clearance for $3 a pack... eye exam and new prescription with my amazing eye doctor, who also told me that my cataracts haven't moved at all in the last year... gas in the car, movie rentals taken back on time, made it to an event for our State Representative Dana Wachs (who is amazing, and fighting - as he always has - for the people) and had great conversation with some folks there... and had my Caribou Earth Day coffee mug filled three times for free... and also got my monthly subscription to meundies in the mail, and it's a beautiful design (these really are the most comfortable, most amazing undies I've ever worn - totally worth the price)...

AND - and this is a *huge* AND - I parallel parked into a regular sized spot!!! I suck at parallel parking, so don't do it, but I had to tonight for Dana - and, by God, it only took my three back-and-forths to get it nestled in properly, and I didn't hit either car in front or behind me. 50 years old, and I finally managed to parallel park all on my own, without a spotter, and without hitting anything, or without going back and forth 20 times. Woot! 

Going to make the rest of the year kind of pale in comparison, though...

And if I hurt anyone along the way, I'm blissfully unaware of it - I don't think I even did anything stupid while driving, and I didn't say anything offensive, even accidentally, today. 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Hear the Good News of God's Choice for Us (leader-telegram article, March 26, 2016)

This was an article for the Leader-Telegram originally written for their Faith Walk supplement, but they had too many entrees, so they used some of the clergy submissions for their Saturday "Matters of Faith" columns, which is where this one ended up on March 26, 2016.

My congregation, Plymouth United Church of Christ, are spending the six weeks leading up to Easter talking about choices. We started by talking about the choice to throw stones or not. Jesus lamented over Jerusalem saying, “You who kill the prophets, and stone those who are sent to you.” We do like to throw stones at people or ideas we don’t like. Throw them at the normal evolutionary change that happens around and within us. Throw them at the faults of others. Throw them at those who speak words of peace for people and nations. We are considering our choices because we are on a journey to Easter, which is the sign that God has made a choice for us. In Christianity, Easter is the numero uno holy day. The day of the empty tomb and Jesus’ resurrection is the starting point of the faith. Christmas is far most popular, celebrated by people all over the world, including many who do not identify as Christians. And why not? The birth of a child around whom has been created a holiday of gift giving, feasts, choral concerts and carols, images of families gathered peacefully and functionally around a Christmas tree stacked with wrapped presents while a fireplace roars and crackles... It's so popular it covers a large swatch of our yearly calendar. By my estimate, it occupied about one-fourth of 2015. But Christmas is only a small part of the whole story that culminates in an empty tomb and a rolled away stone on Easter morning; God shouting to the world, “I choose you!” I like to think that the stone rolled away from the tomb is also symbolic of God trying to put the stones out of our reach. It is this truth of Easter that compels my (and many others) passion about choosing life over stone-throwing at our neighbors, and especially to speak out when those within the church are calling for the stone throwing, instead of choosing the better way of Jesus. I think of those who often receive our stones: our LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters; immigrants; minorities; the homeless; the poor; the sick and suffering; Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and atheists; women; prisoners both domestic and those at Gitmo; those who have faithfully made the very difficult decision to get a divorce, have an abortion, climb out of addictions, or undergo gender-realignment surgery; those who have been abused and hurt by the church and others; and those who do not deny the truths we learn from scientific inquiry. Proclaiming that God made a choice for us should include the proclamation that God has also chosen “them”, whoever our “them” might be. Not to change “them” into “us”, but in a way that honors their story and their dignity. To trade shaming them in God’s name or to use the Bible as a weapon against their God-made selves for a gentle open hand of invitation to experience love. Because none of us are innocent of cheering along at Jesus’ crucifixion. That calls for us to be gentle with one another. Even when we are at our worst, because of our worst selves, God chose to come as one of us on Christmas morning, allowed us to crucify him so he could rise back to life on Easter morning and show us the impotence of stone-throwing against the force of love. Jesus’ love is a kenotic love, a fancy Greek word that means “self-emptying.” It’s a love that puts “the other” before oneself. If you’d like to know more about what this “Easter” thing is that churchy people keep talking about; if you’d like to hear a message about God’s choice for you; if you’d like to experience a community that strives (however imperfectly) to mimic God’s kenotic way of unconditional love, I invite you to join my congregation, or ask a friend to join with their congregation, this coming Easter. Hear again or for the first time the story of Jesus raising himself to life from death, leaving behind an empty and open tomb. To hear the Good News story of God’s choice for us so that we may all roll away our own stones and experience God’s unconditional love for each of us. See Plymouth's Facebook page for more information on our Easter celebration and Magnificent Muffin breakfast.

Sunday, March 20, 2016

“Choices 4: Choosing the Manure Way” - Sermon for Lent 3, Feb. 28, 2016

“Choosing the Manure Way”
Sermon, Year C, Lent 3, February 28, 2016 
© Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture: Luke 13:1-9

(there is no recording of this sermon, or of the worship service)

Jesus taught a lot in parables. Parables are short stories that offer one or more characters doing whatever, and that leads to a moral question or teaching. But they are fairly open-ended because they are designed not to make one specific, concrete point, but to provide something to think about. So parables can have multiple meanings. There can also be a temptation when reading parables, or thinking about them, to think that one character in the parable must be God (or perhaps representing Jesus), one character who represents the wrong position, one who represents the correct position… but they rarely work that way. God is not necessarily a character in the parables. 

But in this parable of the fig tree, we might ask the question of how does the parable read if we put God in different positions. What if God is the vineyard owner that wants to cut the tree down? That gives, maybe, a little different vision of God than we are used to thinking of. Then who is the one who wants to save the tree - perhaps Jesus? A faithful disciple? Someone willing to speak up against God doing an act of injustice?

Or what if God is the one who wants to save the tree? If that one is God, then perhaps that makes the vineyard owner the Roman Empire. Or could it be the scribes? Pharisees? You?

Or what if - and bear with me on this one, because it’s going to sound weird, but I think it’s legitimate - what if God is the manure? Te fertilizer? The catalyst and source of growth? What if the gardener who wants to save the tree is spreading God around the roots of the tree? 

That’s a powerful image, I think. The image that we grow if we have God spread around us at our roots, and if our roots are firmly grounded in God and covered with the the nutrient-rich fertilizer of God’s presence.

And if the manure is God, then could mean that the gardener is just a regular schlub like you and like me, which means that we, too, have the power to spread God around the roots of other people. 

Or, as is also the case in parables, maybe it’s just a story about a man who wants to take down a non-productive tree, and another man who says, “No - I know a better way.” 

It’s poetic, isn’t it?

Or to rephrase it in terms of our Lenten theme of “choices”, it could look like this:

“I choose to cut down this tree because it is non-productive.”

“No, I choose to resist your idea, and offer a choice of a better way. Let me fertilize it and give it some love.”

“Okay, I choose to be patient about the tree, and let you do that.”

That looks nice, doesn’t it? The man chooses to help the tree grow instead of cutting it down.

We are talking about choices this Lent.

Let’s build on last week. Last week was Jesus lamenting that Jerusalem is the place that stones the prophets and kills those who are sent to it. Jesus is on his journey to Jerusalem at this point. In fact, the passage we read last week occurs shortly after this one. So he is, in a sense, lamenting the lack of people in Jerusalem who want to help the trees grow. In last week’s sermon, we talked about whether to choose throw stones at that which gets in our way, irritates us, challenges us, forces us to change… or whether we choose not to throw the stone.

I left you with a mission to take a stone from the bowl of stones on our prayer station, and keep it with you for the week. Put it in your pocket or purse, some place where you would encounter it often, as a reminder not to throw it. A reminder to be more aware of how you are making choices. To remind you to ask the question as you are making a choice, “Is this a choice that moves me forward along Jesus’ path, the path to Jerusalem, or a way that leads me off the path?”

I said to bring your stone today and put it back in the bowl to see if we have as many stones today as we did last week, which would mean we were all faithful about not throwing it.

But as I went through this week with that stone in my pocket, I found myself being much more aware about how I make choices, in a good way, than I normally am. Even more so than I expected knowing that I would have the stone in my pocket. I don’t want to give up my stone, and I’m keeping it in my pocket. I’m going to carry it the rest of Lent because it made a difference in me. In unexpected ways. I’m actually quite surprised. I don’t know what your experience was - and I would like to hear what your experience was - but for me it has been a much more significant one than I thought it would be, in a very positive, faith-growing way. Especially so in my interactions with other people, of which I had many this week. Which perhaps is why the stone felt so present. Maybe if I hadn’t been around people this week it would not have been as powerful. Who knows? I‘d like to think the stone would have been as present a reminder to me, but that could just be pretending to be more faithful and self-aware than I really am.

This week I was at Northstar middle school on Tuesday as a judge for their National History Day projects that the 8th graders do. I met some great people, saw some that I knew, and experienced some truly creative and intelligent teenagers. There were many really impressive displays. I was there for the full day, and the stone was in my pocket, tempering my critiques and my interactions with the students, with my fellow judges, with the school staff. Then I was at Sojourners on Thursday night. Last night, Saturday night, we had a pizza party at the YMCA for some of the families who are served by the County’s Coordinated Services Team, which I’m the clergy representative for. 

The stone was a constant reminder not to throw it. But not just to keep from doing a negative, it also served to remind me to be more positive. To be more careful. To lift up, to be positive, to be gentle.

As a follower of Jesus, I want always to grow in my followership, grow in faith, grow in fidelity to following this path that Jesus sets before us. The path that our worship team has symbolically represented here in the sanctuary with this cloth and the prayer stations, leading up to the tomb and the cross.

That stone in my pocket helped me stay focused. And most importantly, it helped me grow.

And growth is a theme of this parable about the fig tree.

Jesus is pro-growth.

A fig tree gives no fruit, and it’s old enough that it should be producing. 

“Cut it down!” the owner says.

“You only get one chance, and you blew it!” he says.

“Prepare to meet the fate you deserve for not being like other trees your age, for not conforming to my expectations, for not meeting my needs, for not being a productive member of fig tree society!”

“Down with it!”

A stone throwing moment? Or was he fully justified to choose destruction of the tree because of its failure?

Hmmm…

And then the gardener speaks up, to ask for leniency. “Give it another try. It just needs some tender love, some fertilizer, some injection of God around its roots. Let it go for a year, and see if it produces fruit. Choose life over death. Choose nurturing over destruction. Choose patient perseverance, even though it means breaking the rules about what is valuable and what isn’t, and even though it requires some sacrifice, instead of doing what’s logical, expedient, or normal.”

Choices.

We are always faced with choices. 

And we are all fig trees that at times are not bearing fruit, or not bearing fruit that is as good as we are capable. Who, with some cultivation and loving fertilizer, can make even better fruit, if only someone chooses to believe in us. The gardeners in our life. And our neighbors are also broken fruit trees, who, with some cultivation and loving fertilizer, can make even better fruit if only we choose to believe in them, as God chooses to believe in us. 

For we, too, can be gardeners. Choose even to be the fertilizer, choose to help others grow as God chooses us. Choose to invite people into the garden that is Plymouth to be nurtured, fed, tended, and have God spread around their roots. To choose to let God work through us, and for us, so that we may produce better fruit of God’s imagining. To choose the way of life and growth for ourselves and others just as God has already made a choice for us.

“Let me put some manure around its roots, and let it go for another year. This is a better way.”

Let us pray: Tending, growing God, you work so hard tending to our roots to help us grow and bear good spirit fruit. You have made a choice for us. Help us to accept your choice, and to make a choice for others. Help us always, please, to make more faithful choices. Amen.

“Choices 3: To Throw or Not to Throw” - Sermon Feb 21, 2016, Year C Lent 2

“Choices 3: To Throw or Not to Throw”
Sermon, Year C, Lent 2, February 21, 2016
© Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture: Luke 13:31-35



Jesus, in this passage, is on his way to Jerusalem. He made that choice in Chapter 9 of Luke’s Gospel and he will arrive in Jerusalem at Chapter 19 on Palm Sunday entry into that city. He is on his way to Jerusalem to fulfill his destiny. He knows that he must be killed. That death is part of the plan. He is marching and on his way to Jerusalem.

We’re talking about choices on Sundays during lent. How do we make choices? How do we react to the choices of others? How do we consider what is the best choice, the better choice, or the most faithful choice? How do we recover from a bad choice? We’re looking at “choices” because our faith is lived out in how we make choices. The way that we make them shows, I think, the state of our faith in many ways. Our faith is lived out in how we make choices.

So in the prelude to today’s gospel passage, going back a few chapters, is the choice that Jesus. He knows that he will be killed in Jerusalem, but he chooses to go anyway. Or, as I thought about it as wrote that previous sentence, What if we said it as “Jesus knows that he’s going to be killed in Jerusalem, and he goes.” It’s a different feel.

He chooses to go, and he doesn’t even let threat of Herod deter his mission. Though maybe he already knows that Herod is going to be part of fulfilling Jesus’ mission. As an act of a hero, of a friend, this act of Jesus here is pretty remarkable, going forth knowing that it will end in death.

But let me also say that as I thought about this, I have thought that maybe this a bad example to start our first Sunday talking about choices. It sets an awfully high bar. “FOllow the guy who marched to martyrdom!” I’m not saying that! You don’t have to choose to die like Jesus did. I’m not saying that your faith choices have to lead martyrdom. In fact, I hope they don’t. I don’t want any of us to have to be martyred.

But we are talking that Jesus knew his mission and chose to be faithful to it. And we can choose to be faithful to our mission, whatever it might be. Jesus was faithful to his, even though it maybe scared the pants off of him. I wonder if he had moments of fear. Moments of wondering, “Can I do this? Do I have the strength to do this? Do I really want to do it?” And I wonder how scared was Jesus on this journey.

I don’t know that any of us are being asked to go forth on a journey that leads to death, other than that we are born and that means that we are all marching to an end. On Ash Wednesday we remember our mortality with the words, “From dust you are made, and to dust you shall return.” But we do make choices. We are on a journey of making choices, or failing to make choices… and though we aren’t faced with choices that might lead to death, we are faced with choices that often require sacrifice of one form or another, whether it leads to death or not. Think of the soldier that dives on a grenade to save his friends. Or the firefighter that runs into a burning building to save someone, or the policeman that risks her life, or the one who gives up the potential for a more lucrative career to instead become a public school teacher or professor. Or the parent who chooses to eat the less desirable parts of a meal so that the children can have the better or less weird parts.

I thought, for many many years, I thought that my mom really did love chicken necks. Because that’s what she’d always grab first, and she’d say, “Oh, I like this.” It wasn’t until I was much older and we were less poor and could afford to have bigger spreads on the table that I realized she didn’t love chicken necks, she loved my sister and me, and let us have the better choice of food. Choices that require sacrifice. Often the faith choice often requires a sacrifice, a self-emptying (in the Bible called “kenosis”, the great Greek word for self-emptying: getting our ego out of the way, getting our needs out of the way for the sake of others). Coming to worship instead of going out to play, or giving up a meal at a restaurant and giving that money instead to the hungry or to a food pantry, or to live more simply so that our carbon footprint is smaller,or to say “I’ll give up my fear of inviting others so that the church may grow.” Some level of sacrifice. Giving of money, giving of time, giving of ourselves. To choose to follow Jesus is, in a sense, to choose to follow him to Jerusalem. To choose a path of sacrificial love.

We have that represented symbolically in how we have arranged our worship space. Each Sunday through Lent we will have a different station on the path that starts with Ash Wednesday in the back and comes up to this table in front with the cross and the tomb. Today’s station is a table with a bowl of stones, the stones that we throw at each other as Jesus talked about. It is part of the marching up to the tomb, to Good Friday, and then to Easter when the tomb is empty.

One of our big choices in life is more of the topic of today, that Jesus mentioned, “Jerusalem, you who like to stone those who are sent to you.” They have that choice to throw the stones. To throw the stone at the prophets that God has sent among us, or to throw the stones at whoever it is that irritates us, or an idea that irritates us, or a reality that irritates. Who are those that you would like to throw a stone at? What are the ideas? What are the realities that you would like to throw a stone at?

We are left with the question, Do we throw the stone, or do we instead go to Jerusalem?

What idea, person, situation, event… would you like to see line up in your slingshot as you think about your life? The people who challenge our way of life, the ideas that challenge that our comfortable ideas, those who speak out for whatever their cause might be. Things like racial justice, economic justice, or anything. Things that irritate us, disrupt our lives, turn our assumptions upside down, that knock us out of our comfort zones, that show us how wrong we have been. That’s a difficult realization to come to: to understand that one has been wrong about something for a long time and that one needs to change one’s mind.

The people who try to make us more generous, or that blow out the sides of the boxes that we keep trying to put God in to make God smaller and more tameable and domesticated. But God doesn’t like to be domesticated. If you could deliver a well-aimed stone, where would you launch it?

Or do we choose not to launch it?

Remembering instead the path of sacrificial love. The path that leaves the stones on the ground and approached our adversary, whoever or whatever, with empty open and inviting hands.

Leave the stones on the ground.

Throwing stones at each other only results in a re-arrangement of the stones. It might feel good while we’re doing it, but ultimately all it does is move stones around. No minds are changed, no ideas are stopped, no productive movement forward. The only effect on the universe is wasted energy, suffering, and a bunch of re-arranged stones. Congratulations.

People can irritate us. Ideas can irritate us and challenge us. They can even be worse than people. Ideas about race and gender are being talked about a lot lately. Politics. Religion. Theology. How we interpret history. How we are going to move into the future. These social ideas that we argue about and discuss in the public arena, but also that we discuss in the church. Ideas about the church, new ideas, and the people that are speaking them. People trying to lead the church - let’s say The Church, the universal worldwide Church of Jesus, not the fractured denominational representations we have now - into new directions as the world changes around it. The Church is going through a lot of change. Not just Plymouth, but Christianity and The Church in general. We have seen a lot of change even within the Catholic Church the past couple years with Pope Francis leading some change. We are trying to bring the Church into the 21st century. Or sometimes as we like to joke, to bring it into the 20th century, and then bring it into this one. The Church is definitely changing, and it has always changed. Often it’s a slow change, but it has always changed. Because it is made of people, and we are made to change. We change as we grow in wisdom and experience and faith. But also changes because generations die and new generations are born. The Church is, though, going through a very big change right now, like it did in the Reformation 500 years ago. There is some big movement within the church and within the world, and w2e might want to throw stones at the reasons for it, but that doesn’t get us anywhere. That doesn’t help anything.

Even in Jesus’ time there was a lot of change. His movement was a revolution, or reformation of sorts. That became a new thing. It had its struggles and challenges and literal throwing of stones. Many of the early Christians being stoned. But also the metaphorical stoning of the arguments and division and the followers of Jesus eventually separation from the Jewish tradition and leaving the synagogues (and/or being pushed out of them).

Jesus offered a new thing, and there were those in Jerusalem that demanded his death because his new message was too uncomfortable, too different, too radical , too upsetting, too sacrificial.

Think of Jerusalem not just as a city in Jesus’ time, but as any institution with a long history and many layers of mythology and tradition laid over it. One does not turn such an institution on a dime, and those that want to turn it are often seen as a threat. A threat to the faith, as a threat to the status quo, as a threat to the power holders, as a threat to what we think ought to be the order of things. But God so often is disordering the order of things to make things new, and more in line with God’s vision. And so we have Jesus lamenting that Jesus kills its prophets and stones those whom God sends to it.

However, even as some in Jerusalem were arranging for Jesus’ execution, there were those who made a choice for Jesus. There were those who made the choice to follow his Way. To tell his story. To re-tell his story to their neighbors and their family, and then outside of the walls of Jerusalem and into the whole Mediterranean and eventually all over the world. Those who chose to follow in Jesus’ way. They chose to write hymns, and to write letters and later Gospels, to tell the world about Jesus and to invite others to join them and to choose sacrificial love over profit, preferring it over self-preservation or the cultural ideas of what is proper and not proper, preferring love over ideas that limit other people's’ ability to live, to choose reconciliation over stoning, love over apathy, hope over hate, life over violence. We have definitely not done this perfectly. God knows that the church has failed in awful and terrible ways over the centuries to live by the ideals of its own message. The Church does not turn on a dime, either, and we do have an awfully large arsenal of stones at our disposal.

But the Church has also always had within it those who choose the ways of Jesus and who have made the Church, and made those who are the recipients of this tradition, story, and vision, who challenge us to remember who we are supposed to be. To call us prophetically to our better selves, reforming and renewing to serve our neighbors. To choose to make a difference in the lives of those who are not here.

We are faced with the choice that has always faced those who call themselves followers of Jesus, which is to choose to preach and live the Gospel by inviting others to experience it, and by modelling it to other. By showing people what it looks like (or should look like) to choose the way of love over what is expedient, easy, or comfortable. To model it for others by how we choose to live. Where we choose to put our energy or spend our time. How and where we spend our money, and what we choose to spend it on. How we choose to respond to new ideas and the change in the world. How we choose to respond to the new life that God calls us into like a mother hen gathering her brood under her wings.

Our Gospel lesson ended with “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” We could also say, “Blessed is the one who chooses the Way of the Lord.” Not that any of us will ever do it perfectly. We can’t. But we can try to be as faithful as possible.

So I offer you a mission today. Let’s call it a mission, that sounds much more grandiose than assignment or homework. Your mission for this week, even for all of Lent as we are talking about choices: consider your choices/. Consider them as you are in your daily routines. Be aware of the choices that you are making. Why you are making them, how you are choosing to respond. To a co-worker, a friend, a stranger. How you choose to respond to a crying person, a person in need, or someone who is irritating you. How you choose where to spend your money and where to spend your time. What you are spending it on. CONsidering your choices and be mindful of them.

And if you are aware before you make a choice, if you are aware that you are in a position to make a choice, ask yourself, “How can I best choose the path of sacrificial love? What might be the most faithful/loving choice in this situation?” Or even better, make that decision before you set out so that you are prepared and prime for it when the situations arise that you will choose the more loving way instead of throwing stones.

I know what you could also do. We have a bowl of stones on today’s station in the middle of the sanctuary. On your way out, grab a stone and put it in your pocket to remind you this week not to throw it. Leave it in your pocket. Bring it back next Sunday if you haven’t thrown it and let’s see if the bowl has as many stones in it next Sunday as it has today. Take it with you. Carry it with you to remind you not to throw stones. Choose the more loving way and see if it does end up with a lot less stone throwing and more open-handed invitations to growing in faith.

Let us pray: Generous God, loving God, God who calls us to the good life in you, gather us as your people under your wings, and give us your spirit that we may be more faithful in our choices. Amen.

“Choices 1: A Lenten Practice to Prepare for Easter Joy” - Ash Wednesday sermon Feb 10, 2016

“Choices 1: A Lenten Practice to Prepare for Easter Joy”
Sermon, Year C, Ash Wednesday, Feb. 10, 2016
Plymouth United Church of Christ, Eau Claire, WI
©2016 Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture: Mt 6:1-6,16-21





We have arrived at another season of Lent, our yearly through the dark spaces and the shadows of life. The shadows in our own souls. We have come to another season of Lent here on this Ash Wednesday that starts our forty day journey that leads us into Easter.

Lent is a time of penance. Which is not the same as self-flagellation, or beating yourself up, or feeling that you are not worthy of God’s love. We’re not looking to make anyone feel bad here. But penance, which is simply to confess sin. To confess where we have missed the mark. And also to receive absolution. Because with God there is never a confession without there being absolution, without forgiveness. God never leaves us in a state of not being forgiven. There can be no confession without God’s absolution, without God’s forgiveness. Confession not to make us feel bad, but to remind us of God’s love and where we have missed the mark, and to get back on following God’s path. Following Jesus’ path.

Lent is this time to consider our sins. To consider also our dark places. Our nature of often choosing poorly, or not as well as we could have. And in penance, and then repentance, to change our course. The word sin means “to miss the mark”, it’s that you aren’t on the right track. So go back on the track to follow in Jesus’ way.

We do this not because God wants us to feel terrible about who are, or to wallow in fear, but because God wants us to be honest about who we are. To be honest about who we are, and to know that with God we can be honest, because God loves us. God wants us to be honest. Not to hold it over our heads, but to be honest because it makes us better disciples when we are honest about where we have missed the mark, and where we need to realign our path to be with God.

It helps our discipleship to be honest.

So Lent is also this time of course correction. “Am I following in Jesus’ path? No? Well, then, how am I not following in his path?” And we answer ourselves, “It is because I am doing this, or not doing that, or not doing the other thing as well as I should…” whatever those things might be for you. Then say, okay, I’ll repent, trust in God’s grace, and then try to get your footsteps back with Jesus.

Lent is a time of contemplation of our faith journey. But it is a contemplation that is always done with the empty tomb at the end of the track. At the end of the path, there is always an empty tomb. Easter always comes. Never will our forty day journey of Lent end without an Easter. Always, always ends with an Easter, God’s final word of life, new life, eternal life, through Jesus Christ. No matter our sins, no matter who we are, it always ends with Easter for everyone. For all of God’s people.

During our Lenten journey this year, we have re-arranged our worship space. We have a path leading up to the empty tomb of Easter. As Lent continues, we will add more to the path. TOnight we have a table at the beginning with ashes and a cross on it, and a couple footsteps on the path coming up to it. Each Sunday we will add another installation/prayer-station on the path leading up to the empty tomb. And on the table at the end, we have a tomb - though it has a rock laid over it for now. The rock will be rolled away on Easter morning.

In Lent, we are marching toward the joy of Easter morning. Lent is not a place for us to stay in, but a good place to go through to remind us of who we are. To remind us of our darker sides, and of the darker side of life. It is a period that we go through, but always with the promise of Easter. The promise of God’s love. So this Lenten time is a time to consider our own lives. The impermanence of our bodily existence. To consider the frailty of our flesh. To consider that we are made from dust and to dust we shall return. That is also part of the path for all of us. We are made of dust, and to dust we shall return. But also that the dust is God’s dust. It is God-stuff. It comes from God.

Lent is a symbolic journey into the shadows and valleys of life, and it is a time of honesty about the shadows and the valleys of life. The scars and the wounds that we build up over our years. The dashed hopes, the sense of failure, the hard days, the difficult days, the “I want to give up” days, the “I can’t take any more, God!” days. To contemplate also what has happened to us because of our poor choices, or happened to others because of our poor choices, or happened to us because of the choices that others have made. Or even just those random events that happen in the world that are completely out of our control that are no one’s fault at all. The random times and events beyond our control. Lent is the time to consider those as well, and what it means for our faith and who we are as God’s people.

I like to think of Lent not as a time to suffer, or to make us feel unworthy or that we’re terrible people,I don’t think that’s a good spiritual discipline, nor do I think it what God wants from us. But a time to remember that we are with God. Or perhaps much more so, that God is with us. That our own dark times end with the glorious light of Easter. That with God there is always hope for new life. Hope for renewal. Not that things have to go back to the way they were. We know that doesn’t happen. Whatever we are mourning, grieving, or missing in our lives are not going to come back. But that we can continue moving forward. That we can still go forward with hope, following the light of Jesus. The star that shines brightly before us that we are to follow.

I’m going to end with a blog post from a pastor, Anne Robertson, who serves a church in Massachusetts and talks about an experience of an Ash Wednesday that she had some years ago, that also touches on the common Lenten practice of giving something up, or taking on a spiritual practice. I came across this, and I thought it is worth reading and sharing because I think you will like to hear what she has to say.

Lent is a time when I used to respond to the call to give something up for 40 days. But as life got harder and loss piled upon loss, I began to resent being told that I had to give up something else for Lent.

So then I entered the phase of doing something positive for 40 days instead. While better than giving something up, I began to resent that certain days on an already busy calendar demanded yet more from me. I struggled to find an approach to Lent that truly prepared me for Easter.
And then came THE Ash Wednesday. I stood in front of a congregation, imposing the ashes as I always did. But this time was different. A woman came forward to receive the ashes, but she struggled. She had dementia and couldn't find the front. The congregation guided her and she stood before me. My mother. I looked into her eyes--the woman who still knew me but soon would begin to forget--and put ashes on her head saying, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return." She had to be guided back to her seat and the bowl of ashes in my hand became mixed with my tears. A gut-wrenching decade later I received the box of dust that had been my mother via the postal service.

That Ash Wednesday made me quit debating whether I should give something up or do something positive. Now Lent is my reminder that, as the Shirelles so wisely sang, "Mama said there'd be days like this." Well, Mama learned that from God. God said there'd be days like this--harsh days, desert days--and that one hard day often stretches into 40 days and 40 days can stretch into periods of years. When the number 40 crops up in the Bible, it is not meant literally. It is symbolic of a really hard time. Noah had it, Moses had it, the Israelites had it, Jesus had it. And in the harsh fires of those deserts, a new thing was born.

These days I don't give anything up and I don't add anything to my habits. Instead, I reflect on the truth that there are stretches of life that no amount of positive thinking will change. There are deep pits where we feel abandoned, alone, and hopeless. All of us. If you haven't been there yet, you will. And when you've lived with that reminder for 40 days, the power of the Easter message at the other end will literally throw you out of bed and into a place of joy like no other.

I've found the Lenten practice that actually prepares me for Easter. (http://annerobertson.org/lost-in-ashes )

So on this ash Wednesday evening, the first day of our journey through Lent, may you all find your Lenten practice, and may you know and feel Jesus’ presence with you in this wilderness journey, so that you may be taken to a place of joy like no other on Easter morning. Amen.


“Don’t Do Something, Stand There And Be Silent. And Listen.” - Sermon from Feb 7, 2016, Transfiguration Sunday

“Don’t Do Something, Stand There And Be Silent. And Listen.”
Sermon, Year C, Epiphany 5 Transfiguration, February 7, 2016
Plymouth United Church of Christ, Eau Claire, WI
©2016 Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture:  Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)



Don’t just do something, stand there!

Stand there in quiet awe at the otherness of God. God who came as one of us in Jesus, but who also is also not one of us.

Peter feels that he must do something, anything. Anything other than nothing. He thinks, “Don’t just stand there, do something.” That sounds a lot like us, don’t you think? A lot like our culture, America in 2016? Do something! The Protestant Work Ethic, the fear of silence, fear of inactivity, rush rush rush, hurry hurry hurry, do do do, this should have been done yesterday, what are your action steps, what’s your agenda, what’s your plan, Idle Hands Do The Devil’s Work! some will say. But busy hands also have done a lot of the devil’s work.

Peter, in the presence here of this transformed Jesus, in the presence of God, has to do something. Feels a need to do something. Maybe driven by fear, or his work ethic, or just thinking he ought to respond, for some reason, because, wow, this is incredible and terrifying and uncomfortably real. I don’t know why he says what he says, but we can imagine why we might want to do something. He’s just seen his friend glowing, his clothes become shiny and dazzling. He’s seen Jesus turn into Moses and Elijah. Or maybe he didn’t turn into them, and instead they just appeared as if by magic, either way it’s got to be terrifying. It’s unusual. It’s not normal to have that kind of an experience. And as the three are talking, Jesus and Moses and Elijah, they are talking about Jesus’ departure which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Well, what does that mean? I can imagine Peter thinking, “What are they talking about? What is happening? I don’t know, and I’m afraid, I gotta do something - ‘Hey, Jesus, let’s make some houses. Let’s build some houses for you, Elijah, and Moses. That’s a lot more normal. If you are going to speak of strange things and speak of them with people who have been long dead, let’s at least do it in a house. A place that I am used to having conversations. Let’s at least pretend to some normalcy. Let’s make it more comfortable for me. Let’s build some houses.’”

But God will not be domesticated. There is no forcing God into the comfort of a home of our design. Peter says those words about building some houses, and then a fog rolls in and they are terrified.

And from the cloud, a voice saying, “Be quiet. Don’t speak. This is my Son, my chosen, right now you listen. Don’t just do something, stand here and listen to him.”

How often do we forgo the spiritual discipline of listening? Of being quiet in God’s presence? Of letting God speak? How often do we forgo that spiritual discipline of listening for the seemingly more productive act of speaking or doing something. Acting, which may be unfaithful because we have not listened first. Or less faithful than it could have been because we didn’t listen, didn’t just sit or stand in God’s presence and let God speak to us first.

Now, from Jesus, we are called into action. To do acts of love, to be alive and present in the world. But, how can we hear the still speaking God when we ourselves are speaking? Or when we’re making noise, or doing unneeded action? How can we hear our still-speaking God when we ourselves are too busy to listen, too busy that we fail to notice that God was speaking, and often speaking through those around us?

Be quiet, Peter!

How can we know how to act, how to live, if we don’t pause to listen to the words telling us how to live?

Be quiet, Peter!

“You will go down the mountain soon enough. You will have plenty of time to act. To do what I want you to do. But for now you are up here on the mountain, so let me be God. Don’t speak over me, don’t try to domesticate me, don’t try to reign me in, don’t try to turn this event into a memorial. Just stand there in awe, for you are in the presence of holiness! and listen! Your response is to be silent. Silent.”

In this story, God is the sole actor in this event. Other than Jesus and the disciples walking up the mountain and praying, God is the only one who acts in this story. This is God letting loose. I’ve said many times before that any time an angel or a divine presence appears in the Bible, it or something always says, “Be not afraid.” Well, that’s not entirely true. Because in this instance, as Jesus and his friends are on the mountaintop, there is no angel saying “Don’t be afraid.” No one is saying, “Don’t be afraid.” There is only the voice demanding that they be quiet. And they are terrified!

When God lets loose there really should be angels amassed before the divine glory saying, “Be not afraid! God is up to something, but don’t be afraid!” But not here, not on the mountain. They were terrified. They ow that they are on holy ground in a holy presence, and that ought to make one pause in awe and trembling, I would think. Because God is love we have nothing to fear from God; but God is also God: wild, free to do whatever God chooses, to make new things happen, to re-create the world, to re-create us, to transform lives. And God loves to break out of the boxes that we build in our vain attempts to force limits on God’s creative powers.

“Let me build you a house!” Maybe Peter thinks that if we build houses here for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, i we build a permanent place to live, God won’t ask us to go any higher up the mountain. Maybe we can stay safe at this point instead of moving farther up. But God says, “Be silent! Be silent, Peter!”

My friend Matt Schneider-Adams, who is the pastor over at our church in Prescott, wrote about this passage, what I think is a great line, “silence is a good strategy.” Silence is a good strategy. It’s good for us as a people who are entering Lent. To find moments of silence. To consider our faith journey. To listen for how God is speaking to us, for what God wants us to do, who God wants us to be. It’s also good for us as a church, as a congregation, to listen. What are the new things that God is doing in the world? What are the old things that ought to continue?

To listen, to hear God’s still-speaking voice about what God is doing, and where God asks us to follow along. There is no transformation without listening to God. I feel that in my own life. When I let my calendar rule my life, I get disconnected from God and find that I’m not being transformed, I’m just running around doing stuff. Stuff that needs to be done (maybe?), and good stuff, but without the listening it becomes something I do just to do it, and I lose the sense of why I am doing it, why it needs to be done. I forget that I do it because I am a disciple who wants to grow, and end up doing it because it’s on the calendar. That’s not a God-reason.

There is no transformation without listening to God first. And maybe there is no transformation without going up the mountain with fear and trembling to be on holy ground and be again grounded in holy ways. Silence is a good strategy. In the interim, which Matt also said. “Silence is (at least in the interim) a good strategy.” It is not the long term strategy, but in the interim, silence is a good strategy. Especially when in God’s presence, when on Holy Ground. Because Holy Ground is not safe ground. We are liable to be changed. we are liable to be transformed. Which is a wonderful thing, but it can be an unsafe feeling thing. Something that we long for, but which we also fear to go through. Holy Ground is not safe. It’s a place of mystery and power and otherness, and it’s a place where we are not in control. So don’t try to control it. Be silent. Don’t speak. Listen. Let God be God.

“This is my Son, my Chosen One, listen to him!”

Amen.


“What Child is This?” - Sermon for Jan 3, 2016, Christmas 2 Year C

“What Child is This?”
Sermon, Year C, Christmas 2, January 3, 2016
Plymouth United Church of Christ, Eau Claire, WI
©2016 Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture: Luke 2:22-40 - Jesus seen by Simeon and Anna in the temple



Next Sunday we will celebrate Epiphany. We, like the wise men, are marching toward Epiphany, which is actually this Wednesday, since it is always on January 6, twelve days after Christmas. But we will celebrate it next Sunday. So in the meantime, until we get to that day, we are still in the Christmas season and we continue reading through Jesus’ birth narrative from the Gospel of Luke. We are reading some more about what happened after Jesus’ birth. Today’s scripture lesson from Luke takes place forty days after Jesus is born. There is another passage in Luke between Jesus’ birth and today’s passage, in which Jesus is eight days old and taken to the temple by his parents for his circumcision. Now in today’s passage, forty days after Jesus’ birth, the family go back to the temple for Mary’s purification, a ritual required by Jewish law to take place forty days after a woman gives birth. It is also the day of Jesus’ dedication as the first born of Mary. It was standard to dedicate the first-born to God, whether it be a child, or the first born of the domesticated animals like cattle, sheep, goats, etc. The first born was considered to belong to God, and so Jesus is being taken for his dedication as well.

But mostly, I think, this passage is about Simeon and Anna, who show up in this text. They are there at the temple, and they come to see this new baby Jesus.

So hear now and listen for God is speaking to you through these words of Luke’s Gospel.

Luke 2:22-40: When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, ”Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

At the beginning of Luke’s Gospel, we get angels showing up to Mary and Joseph saying to them that a messiah is to be born and who and what he will be, and that Mary will be the mother. Now we have two people, Simeon and Anna, seeing the baby and saying “this is who he is.” Simeon, the man who has waited patiently for the messiah. He has been waiting patiently for the Lord’s messiah, and the Holy Spirit is upon him and comes to him to compel him to go to the temple at the same time that Jesus’ family arrived. Simeon sees the baby jesus, and says those words we read, words which we call “The Song of Simeon”:

”Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

He is saying this about Jesus while holding him in his arms. Then he continues and says these words that are sort of cryptic. They are not quite as direct or intelligible as his first words. He says,

“This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

In some way, these are good and comforting words. Jesus is going to be in some ways great. He will have an effect on people. He will be known, and will do things in his life that people remember and change the world. But it also ends with uncomfortable words, that warning about “a sword will pierce your own soul too.” This reminds of when the Wise Men show up, as we will read next Sunday, they bring gifts of frankincense and gold. These are nice and easy gifts. But they also bring a gift of the funeral balm, myrrh. There is with Jesus. the Good News of being the Prince of Peace, he is also swaddled in the reality of the terrible ending of his ministry and his time on earth.

And then there is Hannah. Hannah the Prophet. Not a lot of women get to have the title prophet. She is faithful in her daily worship at the temple. She has been a widow for a long, long time. Either she is 84 years old, or she’s been a widow for 84 years, the greek is unclear. Either way, she is quite old, well beyond the average age. And she has been faithful all that time, being in the temple, and she gets the title of prophet. Whether others thought of her as a prophet, or if only the writer of Luke has decided to call her a prophet, we don’t know. But however she got the title of prophet, that gives her words a special authority. Prophets are people designated by God to speak the word of God. She comes and she praises God and speaks about the child to all who were looking to the redemption of Israel. She becomes an evangelist here, telling the people around her who this baby is!

The writer of Luke doesn’t record her words, but I imagine they were very much like Simeon’s. She’s praising God and giving thanks for this baby. And then she probably says words to the effect of, “This is a special boy! A very special boy. He is the one! This is the one we have been waiting for.” Who is this child? He is the one!

In the Orthodox Church, Simeon and Anna are considered to be the last prophets of the Old Testament, even though they show up in the New Testament. But if we think of the time pre-Jesus, there is a long history of prophets being sent to the Jewish people to challenge the people to be more faithful, to repent, and to tell them how things need to change; but they also come to bring words of comfort. To say to the people that God is working something wonderful, there is a messiah to come, God will send a person to us to redeem and save and show us the way of life. And so Simeon and Anna here are in that tradition, except that instead of saying “One is coming who will be sent by God,” but to say, “He has come! This is the one we’ve been waiting for!”

Then “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”

And that is just the beginning of that story of Jesus’ life and ministry. And also just the beginning of the story of the Church: a story that continues with us, today.

Thanks be to God. Amen.