Please and Thank You -- A Thanksgiving Homily

Luke 17:11-19

We’ve gathered together to ask the Lord’s blessing and to give thanks for the bountiful gifts of God. Giving thanks is deeply rooted in our faith tradition, going all the way back to our Jewish ancestors who heeded the Psalmist’s call to make a joyful noise, worship with gladness, and come into God’s presence with singing, because the Lord is God. Yes, we’ve heard the call to “enter the gates with thanksgiving, and the courts with praise . . . For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever and his faithfulness to all generations.” (Psalm 100 NRSV).

1. Being Thankful

Thanksgiving is a national holiday, but it has a strong spiritual dimension. For some this is simply an expression of civil religion that can be quickly dispensed with before watching the game and digging into the feast. For some Thanksgiving will offer a rare opportunity to gather as family or with friends for a time of merriment and sharing, that may or may not have any spiritual dimension. But, it also could provide an opportunity to stop and give thanks for the blessings of life, even if done briefly. We’ve come here because we believe that giving thanks has a broader, more spiritual sense to it.

Tonight we gather as a Christian community, but I’d like to link this observance to another gathering that some of us participated in this past Sunday evening. That event was interfaith and it reminded us that ours is a diverse nation, made up of people who share many different faith traditions. That event reminded us to give thanks for the freedoms provided by this nation to people from a multitude of religious traditions to safely gather together for prayer and worship and service in a way that is appropriate to that tradition. Our gathering this evening may be a Christian one, but it shares in this broader dimension of freedom. Therefore, as we gather in the name of Christ, let us give thanks for the freedoms we share with fellow citizens whose beliefs are different from ours, knowing that around the world there are many who do not share in the protections of our nation’s Constitution.

But, whether or not there is government sanctioned freedom to worship, we still can give thanks that God is present in our midst. Our ability to give thanks doesn’t ultimately depend on such freedoms. Therefore, we gather to give thanks to the God we know in Jesus Christ for the steadfast love of God that endures forever, not just for Americans but for all of creation. And in that spirit, we’re able to sing the words of a Thanksgiving hymn:

Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,

who wondrous things has done, in whom the world rejoices,

who, from our mothers’ arms, has blessed us on our way

with countless gifts of love, and still is ours today. (Chalice Hymnal, #15)

2. The Meaning of Thanksgiving

If our calling is to give thanks, then we must ask – what does this involve? As I considered this question, I realized that it would be easy to fall into a discussion of niceness and politeness. That is, I could focus my attention on the importance of saying please and thank you. Like many of you, I was taught as a child to even say thank you to Aunt Martha for that hideous sweater that you would never, ever wear in public. You see, if you use these words with practiced efficiency, you’ll be successful in life. Although, there’s nothing wrong with being polite or saying please and thank you, even to Aunt Martha for that sweater, I don’t think that is the point of this season of Thanksgiving?

I raised this question of politeness because tonight’s gospel reading for tonight is a bit odd. If we’re not careful, we could end up with an Emily Post kind of interpretation and use it to reinforce the principles of proper etiquette. But if we did that, we’d miss Luke’s point.

In this story, which appears only in Luke’s gospel, there are ten people with skin diseases, making them spiritual and social outcasts, who came to Jesus as he was wandering along the border regions of Galilee and Samaria. Wherever this village was located, it appears to be one of those places where Jew and Samaritan mingled, and where disease seems to have transcended ethnicity and religious observance. They cry out from a distance, because they knew that it wasn’t appropriate to approach people who weren’t infected: “Have mercy on us!” We’re not sure what they wanted. It could have been money, or maybe they’d heard rumors that Jesus was a healer and hoped he would heal them. Whatever the case Jesus simply tells them to go and show themselves to the priest, directions that they chose to obey. Now, the reason Jesus sent them to the priest, was that priests served not only as religious functionaries, like we clergy do, but they were also public health officials. Since the Temple was far off, maybe they headed off to a branch office to get their all-clean report, and in the moment that they left to see the priest, they were healed. And as Luke notes, while nine of them continued on, one returned to give thanks. That one person who turned back to Jesus was, Luke says, a Samaritan and a foreigner. When the Samaritan returns to Jesus and offers his word of thanksgiving, Jesus wonders out loud where everyone else had gone, even though they were doing what he had told them to do. Could it be that this man returned to give thanks to Jesus because he was a Samaritan and didn’t have anywhere else to go?

What should we do with this text? Should we use it to reinforce proper etiquette, using the Samaritan as our model citizen? Or do we take it a step further and deeper, and hear in this story a call to give thanks to a God whose love is inclusive, a God who reaches out and touches the lives of citizen and foreigner alike? It matters not to God whether, one is Jewish or a Samaritan, God’s bounty is poured out on both without discrimination. It’s this indiscriminate love of God, which draws us from the margins back into the center, that calls forth words of thanksgiving. It matters not to God, why society chooses to exclude us, whether it be disease, ethnicity, or religious differences, for God’s love covers us all, and therefore we can and should give thanks to God. And what better words to use in closing this meditation than the doxology, which so many of us sing each Sunday:

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church

Ecumenical Thanksgiving Service

Lutheran Church of the Master of Troy

November 23, 2010

Adventurous Theology #7: Good News for Everyone (Bruce Epperly)

In today's meditation Bruce Epperly takes into the powerful story of Peter's vision of God that transformed his understanding of God's mission and his role in it.  As a result a way was opened up for those who stood outside the covenant circle to enter in.  What was once considered unclean is now, by God's revelation, to be considered clean.  As Bruce notes, after this section of Acts, Peter gives way to Paul, and with Paul the mission to the Gentile world takes center stage.  So, the question of the day concerns God's desire to embrace all creation in God's realm.  I invite you to read and share in the conversation.

***************************************************

Adventurous Theology #7:

Good News for Everyone

Acts 9:32-12:25

Bruce Epperly

Peter is at center stage in these three chapters and then exits for the remainder of Acts. This section, true to form of Acts, begins with signs and wonders (Acts 9:32-43), reminiscent of the healings of Jesus, in particular the healing of the man at the pool (John 5:1-9) and the awakening of Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:35-43). The healing ministry of Jesus is alive and well in the early church; the “greater things” Jesus promised (John 14:12) are embodied in the lives of Jesus’ followers. Jesus’ non-competitive gospel inspires abundant life for everyone in everyplace, not just insiders but the whole earth. Jesus wants us to surpass him by continuing and transforming his ministry of healing, wholeness, justice-seeking, and hospitality.

Once again mysticism leads to mission. In the synchronicity of divine providence – the divine call and creative human response – God speaks to and through Cornelius, a Gentile, and Peter, a leader of the emerging church. Like the prior encounter of Paul and Ananias, revelation involves God’s movements in many persons; God is speaking through us to respond to others. We may by our faithfulness be an answer to someone else’s deepest need or prayer. Relationships are not merely a matter of convenience, but also, at some primordial level, vocation. We are called to share good news to one another in the interdependence of interpersonal relationships. Our salvation or wholeness is profoundly relational: we need others to find our way and our destinies are interwoven in unique ways with certain people.

Peter’s vision is highly unsettling to him and to us. God is asking Peter to disobey the rules of his faith, presumably enacted by God in ancient times. These rules shaped the Jewish tradition and Peter’s own understanding of God. While not denying their value and role in nation-shaping and personal spiritual formation, God asks Peter - as Jesus asked him on the seashore - to launch out into deeper spiritual waters. In Acts, Peter comes back with another great catch – this time surf and turf, shrimp, lobster, crab, and pork. “Rejoice and enjoy the unclean foods,” the vision commands. Naturally, Peter resists, but eventually relents as God continues to call him to a new understanding of his faith. “Call nothing unclean. All foods and, more importantly, all peoples are welcome at my table.” Ethnicity makes no difference in revelation and mission. No one is excluded: God embraces Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin, and also Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton.

So Peter goes with Cornelius’ servants, finds welcome in Cornelius’ home and, no doubt, to his surprise, experiences the Holy Spirit falling upon these faithful Gentiles, inspiring them to speak in the language of holiness. All people are holy, all creation is welcome, and all can share God’s revealing wisdom. There is nothing to hinder universal revelation, baptism, or salvation.

We are here as Christians in North America because of the boldness of Peter and Cornelius. Their willingness to go beyond their spiritual comfort zones, to be themselves, makes it possible for us to be ourselves as persons of faith. There is no “don’t ask, don’t tell” among Christians; we are welcomed at God’s banquet in our amazing diversity, uniqueness, and beauty.

What’s to hinder the Spirit from calling us today – what new horizons of spirituality beckon us forward as God’s partners in healing the earth?

Bruce Epperly is Professor of Practical Theology and Director of Continuing Education at Lancaster Theological Seminary. He is the author of 17 books, including Holy Adventure: 41 Days of Audacious Living and  Tending to the Holy: The Practice of the Presence of God in Ministry.

Poured Out -- A Lectionary Meditation

Joel 2:23-32

2 Timothy 4:6-18

Luke 8:9-14

Poured Out

Each week, as I sit down to write this lectionary meditation, I look at the text to see if there is something that connects them in one way or another. After all, the creators of the lectionary have tried to some extent to bring some thematic unity to their choices. It doesn’t always work, but often something sticks out, something catches the imagination. As I looked at these three texts, which in some ways are quite distinct, a phrase stood out in two of the passages – the words “pour[ed] out.” In the Joel passage, the Spirit is poured out on the whole people, empowering and equipping them to bear witness to the things of God. In the passage from 2 Timothy, the author (assumed to be Paul in the text) claims to have been “poured out as a libation.” That is, he is being offered up as an offering to God. The words don’t appear in the Lukan parable, but consider the cry of the tax collector, he pours out his heart before God, seeking forgiveness. It could be that the Spirit is being poured out upon us, or it may be that the calling of God has led to our being poured out as an offering, or perhaps it is the need to pour out the heart to God so as to receive God’s gracious offer of forgiveness. Whatever is the case, we are being called upon to rest our lives in the hands of God.

If there is this common word usage, the passages themselves take us in different directions. Each is well known to many people of faith. The Joel passage has long been familiar to me as it has been used as a basis of Pentecostal theology. The second half of the passage serves as a foundation for Peter’s sermon in Acts 2, where he interprets the events of the Pentecost experience in light of this very text. In Peter’s mind (as presented by Luke), Joel’s promises of the coming of the Spirit upon the people of God so that young and old, male and female, slave and free might bear witness to God’s grace is being fulfilled. The first half has been used by Pentecostal preachers to suggest that the renewed Pentecostal experience of the 20th century is itself a fulfillment of Joel, and thus is a sign that God is winding things down. What had been lost, as Aimee Semple McPherson, declared in a famous sermon, has now been restored. Now is the time of the Latter Rain. Whatever our sense of the Pentecostal interpretation, there is a strong promise here that God is at work restoring that which is broken.

In the letter to Timothy, the author (named here as Paul) is reflecting on his own life, and acknowledging that the end is near. He has fought the good fight and has finished the race. He did what God had called upon him to do. He has no regrets, for he now awaits the “crown of righteousness,” which awaits all those who long for the appearing of Christ Jesus. Yes, it has been difficult at times – witness the report of the opposition and even abandonment by friends and supporters. But in the end, it doesn’t matter, because even if his human friends abandoned him – I picture the author identifying himself with Jesus on the night of his betrayal – the Lord has stood with him. Yes, the Lord has stood with him so that the message of God might be proclaimed to the Gentiles. He has been rescued from attacks by those who would do him evil, but now the heavenly realm awaits him, he is content, and so he can stop and offer praise to God for his glory.

The Lukan Parable is brief, powerful, and requiring a bit of caution as we approach it. The point of the parable is to address those who put their trust in their own righteousness, and not only that but treat others with contempt. Yes, this is a parable that challenges our tendency toward self-righteousness. “But, by the grace of God, goes me,” we might like to say. We think of this sentiment as giving praise to God, but does it really? Are we not suggesting that God somehow loves us more than the other, which is why we’re not down on our luck?

The person in this passage who goes home forgiven, after going to the Temple to pray, is a Tax Collector. As we all know, tax collectors have been despised since the beginning of time. For a tax collector to refer to the self as a “miserable sinner” would be deemed appropriate by most of us. This man, who has gone to the Temple, acts in a manner appropriate to one who has sinned. He dare not look up into the heavens, for that would be the height of arrogance. No, he bowed his head low, as a sign of his contrition for his misdeeds. He beats his breast as a sign of his grief at his actions in life, and asks that God would be merciful to him for he is a mere sinner.

The moral of the story is that those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. Or as Jesus says elsewhere, the last shall be first, and the first last. So, where is the problem?

Ah, yes, the problem with this text is that Luke contrasts the unrighteous, but forgiven Tax Collector with the self-righteous, but unforgiven, Pharisee. How often do we use the Pharisee as the example of the self-righteous, stuffed shirt, sort? Even with the best of intentions, we can slip into such usage, when in fact, despite the animus seemingly present in the gospels, the Pharisees were devout, broadminded, faithful, tithers even (who wouldn’t want a few of those in a church?). But, by focusing our attention on the “Pharisee,” as a member of a religious party, we might miss something much more important. As Ron Allen and Clark Williamson note in their lectionary commentary, this passage uncovers an attitude that is potentially present in all of us, “the ease with which we turn the love of God into self-adulation, the pride we take in our humility” (Williamson and Allen, Preaching the Gospels without Blaming the Jews, WJK, 2004, p. 243). The parable then confronts us with an attitude that marks many of us, in which we turn God’s unconditional love into “a condition apart from which God is not free to love, a condition that, presumably, we have met but others have not.” The Tax-Collector, on the other hand, had no such allusions that he was the beneficiary of God’s unconditional love, and therefore he didn’t take it for granted or assume that he was on the inside already. Jesus commends him for his willingness to honestly pour out his heart before God, making himself more receptive to God’s unconditional love. May such be true for each of us.

Republished from [D]mergent

Children, Worship, and Sermons

A long time ago, in my first stop as a parish pastor, I did children's sermons.  We had about five or so children, my son being the oldest -- he was eight when we moved to Santa Barbara.  The people wanted us to have the sermons "for the" children.   The argument for having children's moments or children's sermons is that it lets the children know that their welcome.  I did them for several years, though I can't say I did them well.  I am by training and inclination, more geared to talking to college students and adults.  Trying to get the message into a form that has a useful take away for the kids has always been difficult.  Finally, after consulting with the children, including my own son, we abandoned the idea.  They didn't enjoy being paraded up to the front so that they could talk to the pastor, or rather so the pastor could try to talk to them (with all the adults looking on).  I've not done these things at the last two churches, in part because we've not had children of the requisite age.  Of course, in my first church there were some older folks that said they missed the children sermons.  I think they liked the brevity of those "sermons."

Having opened with this confession of past sins, I want to bring into the conversation none other than Will Willimon.  It so happens that Will is in agreement.  From his experience (he tried them a few times, rather unsuccessfully), he's not sure that children's sermons are either for the children or are sermons.  For the most part they end up being little more than morality plays, reminding the boys and girls to be good and mind their parents. 

Willimon writes in a Theolog posting:

From what I observe the most effective children’s sermons are delivered by laypersons who are called and equipped by God to communicate with children. A stiff, uncomfortable, age-inappropriate lecture by a pastor sends the wrong message to children and congregation. True, it is important for the congregation to see the pastor as relating well to children (our aging church desperately needs more young families and children), but there are numerous ways to do this more effectively than in exclusively verbal, abstract communication. For instance, every time the church celebrates a baptism, why not call all the children down front and have them gather about the font so they can see what’s going on? Try to explain one thing we believe about baptism to the children. They may have difficulty knowing what to make of “redemption” but they all know about water! Jesus communicates with us through ordinary, everyday experiences like eating and drinking, bathing and singing, all activities that are accessible, though at different levels, to children.

I believe that children should be included and that pastors should engage the children.  I try my very best to connect with the children in the churches I pastor, I just don't think a 2 minute "children's moment" is the best way to do this. 

 

Willimon points out that we would never invite all the over 65 members to come down front for a special message from the pastor, so why should we expect that children would find this any more attractive.  So how do we include and engage children?  Well, find ways of incorporating them in worship in ways that are age appropriate, from reading scripture to lighting candles.  I grew up in the Episcopal Church and from an early age served as an acolyte.  I lit the candles, carried the cross, and later served at the altar.  Now less liturgical churches, like my current tradition, have fewer such options, but children can read scripture, the call to worship, take up the offering -- the kinds of things the adults participate in. 

 

I will admit that I've reluctantly agreed to/with the decision at my current church to have children's church during the worship hour.  I'd rather they experience the fullness of worship, but I understand that many of the young ones find it difficult to stay tuned for 60 minutes.  My only concern is about the future. 

 

I remember back when I was teaching at a bible college, a goodly number of my students had rarely darkened the door of the main worship service.  From an early age they'd been shunted off to children's church and then youth services.  They'd rarely heard the senior pastor preach -- having had contact only with the youth minister.  I'm not sure that this is healthy.  But I'm open to hearing from others.  As for me, I think Willimon is spot on!