Sermonizing

I preached at Mercy Seat tonight. That's my teaching parish. It is a super-supportive congregation. The texts today were Psalm 98, Luke 21:5-19, and two hymns that I selected. You can see all of those here. My sermon is here. I'd love to hear any thoughts or feedback that anyone has.

Winnie-the-Pooh

The theory that we were learning about is in Pentateuch class is about the authorship of the first five books of the Bible (the Pentateuch). Tradition holds that these books were written by Moses, but there are some problems with that tradition. For example, the author writes an account of the death of Moses, which would be admittedly hard, even for someone who was a favorite of God. By our beliefs, on Jesus could write an account of his own death. Another problem, the names keep changing: is it Mt. Sinai or Mt. Horeb? is Moses' father-in-law's name Jethro or Ruel? The most obvious and most famous is that the name of God keeps changing - in your English translation you'll see it appear as God and as LORD. There's lots more in that vein, but I won't bore you. The upshot is that there is a theory that the Pentateuch was in fact written over the course of centuries, drawing from tradition that dates back to Moses and beyond, by 4 authors or groups of authors, known to scholars as J (the Yahwist because he called God Yahweh), E (the Elohist because he called God Elohim), D (the Deuteronomist - guess which book he wrote) and P (the Priestly writer, who is thought to have edited all of it together). So my professor had us read a parody of this called "New Directions in Pooh Studies" in which the author breaks down the Winnie the Pooh stories using the same methods as Biblical scholars. It's pretty silly. Here's a link to his work http://winnie-the-pooh.ru/online/lib/stud.html. After you read that you can read my response by clicking here.

Taking a (Witness) Stand

In my Early Church History class, we have just been reading about the persecutions of the early church, before Constantine allowed Christianity in the Empire. Reading about the martyrs and the confessors (those who were tortured in an attempt to force them to recant, but who survived their torture and were not martyred), I have to examine my own faith. Would I be able to withstand torture and death rather than deny Christ? Would I be able to take my children with me into the arena for the sake of the proclamation of God's incarnation? I really don't know. I am lucky enough to live in a time and place that does not demand it of me. My teacher (who is a Coptic nun) was quick to point out that the majority of the world is not such a time and place - Christians are persecuted and killed for their faith all over the world today.

As I was thinking about this, I recalled one of the most powerful witnesses I have ever seen. When I was in college at the University of Virginia, there was a man who went from school to school along the East Coast, preaching. He claimed to represent Christ, but he was really preaching pure law - it was fire and brimstone stuff. Granted, we college students could use a dose of what he was dealing out, but mostly we were just laughing at him. He was a ridiculous spectacle, shouting at us about drugs and sex and Led Zepplin parties. If anyone in the audience asked him a question, he would give them three strikes, and then tell them they were going to hell. He didn't have moment to spare for grace or the gospel. He wanted us to repent, but only to avoid the pit.

So, there we were, laughing and making snide comments, we clever young educated atheists. And there he was, yelling and screaming and trying in his flawed way to save us from the fiery furnace. And in between us, a young man stood up. He was softspoken, gentle, polite - and he spoke the gospel to us. He told us God's promises and how God had come to be with us in our sorry state of sin and then taken that sin on God's self, up on to the cross, and died for us. He told us that our sins were forgiven, and that repentance was a response to this. He spoke Truth and Beauty and Grace for us. He bore witness like no one I have ever seen or heard before or since. And he did it in the face of our sneers, and with his back to the man who was telling us not to listen to him, that this guy was going to hell, too. I don't have any idea who he was, I wouldn't recognize his face if I saw it, but that young man was one of the bravest people I ever saw, and is for me an ideal of witness.

Sometimes, when I'm preaching, it crosses my mind that I had better really believe what I am saying. As a preacher, standing in the middle of the front of the sanctuary, I could be the target for whatever hatred might come through the door. I suppose that it is a kind of bravery, but mostly I am standing in front of people who I know agree with me. It is a radical act to stand up and preach the gospel in any time and place (or it should be). Would I be able to do it when I don't know what the people in front of me think? Would I be able to do it if I knew I could die for it? Could I take a stand for my faith, when my well-being, my life, my dignity, or even just my sense of tact is on the line?

Out of the None-Zone

In Seattle, a huge percentage of the population, when asked to identify their religion, select the box marked "None." I may be misquoting here, but I seem to recall it was approaching 75%. (If you know the correct number, please let me know.) Anyway, Seattle has come to be known as the None-Zone. If you aren't reading it, and someone says this phrase, you are likely to think that they're talking about a convent, but really it's quite the opposite. As a Christian in the None-Zone, you can feel pretty alien. It is almost never one of the first things you mention to a new acquaintance. More likely, you save it for a later date, once your new friend has come to view you as "alright," someone who they will like. Then, like a trap, you spring it on them! You might do it subtly, dropping it into the conversation about your favorite coffee shop - "Oh, there's this great coffee shop across the street from my church. They have the best chocolate chip cookies!" (By the way, that's Irwin's, if you didn't know!) That way, you're letting them know that you are a Christian, but you're not being in-your-face, have-you-accepted-Jesus-Christ-as-your-personal-savior. Because to go there in the None-Zone is to go for the immediate shut down, especially early in an acquaintance. Often I have found myself identifying as a "Christian but." "I'm a Christian, but not crazy, but not trying to judge you, but not trying to get you to vote my way, but not trying to change who you are, not who you think Christians are." In Seattle, to be a Christian is to be counter-cultural in the counter-cultural capital of the US.

Now Minnesota is a whole different ball of wax! Christians here are a dime a dozen! We are out of the closet here - we're here, we're saved, get used to it! Here, it is something you learn about the casual acquaintance right away. And I'm not just talking about here at the seminary. I mean everywhere. At the state fair, at the playground, in the Apple Store where we bought our computer, outside the restaurant where we'd just had lunch. Even if you're talking to someone who is not a Christian, they are likely to be a person of faith. And even if they are not, they have a friend, neighbor, relative, someone who is a pastor, was a missionary, went to seminary, etc.

One of the great things that I hope I will take from this time at seminary is a shift in that desire to qualify my faith. Perhaps I will be able to stop being a "Christian but," and begin to allow my faith to speak for itself, allow God to speak through me and not through my labels. Already I am amazed at the freedom with which some people are able to casually mention, "We're praying for you," as if they were doing what comes naturally to them! For me, to tell someone I'm praying for them brings tears to my eyes, a lump in my throat, and fear of rejection to the front of my mind. What a blessing to spend time in a community that prays for one another as if it were a natural act! "Toto, I don't think we're in the None-Zone anymore!"

Not Perfect, Just a Saint

When I was a kid, my dad often told me, "Aimee, I don't expect perfection from you, just sainthood!" Now in our family, this was a pure joke and had pretty much no theological basis whatsoever. We were not church-goers, and though we celebrated Christmas and Easter, they were not holy-days, just holi-days. So in my mind, sainthood was beyond perfection. I took my father's words to heart and sought to be better than perfect. If I got an A, I wondered (and was sometimes asked by Dad) why it hadn't been an A+. Better than perfect was what I was meant to be. Looking back now, I imagine that this had some impact on my image of God - to live up to God's idea of me was the same as to live up to my dad's - sainthood, beyond perfection!

Tonight, I was listening to a sermon when suddenly this shifted. "God," the preacher said, "does not want perfection from us, but vulnerability." This was in regards to this passage from Luke 18: 9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’

As the preacher said this, I began to consider Lutheran theology that asserts that we are both sinners and saints at the same time. We are always sinners, always and forever out of balance in a world out of balance. But we are also saints, forgiven and justified by our faith in Christ, through the grace of God. Halleleujah! I have acheived my father's dreams for me - sainthood is mine!

I once saw Kurt Vonnegut speak, and he said that he writes about saints, by which he meant, ordinary people trying to live sane lives in an insane world. Though perhaps not perfect Lutheran theology, I think it is closely related - justified by faith, I try to live a sane life, a life in which I am a blessing to myself and others, and hopefully leave the world slightly less insane than it was when I arrived.