"The Call." A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Mark 9:3-37 on a baptism Sunday.

“The Call”

Mark 9:30-37

            

Last week as I was driving somewhere I heard part of an interview on NPR about the history of fraternal organizations and lodges  During the interview, someone said that people don’t join groups as much as they used to.  He mentioned Robert Putnam’s book, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, which was published in 2000—about the time social scientists started talking more about a trend of declining in-person social relationships and community,  which became more of a trend from around 1950 on.[1]  

            I’d read Bowling Alone when it was first published.  The title of the book came from a trend in bowling:  the number of people who bowled had increased between 1970 and 1990, but the number of people who bowled in leagues had decreased significantly.  If people bowl alone, they don’t participate in social interaction and civic discussions that might occur in a league environment.

            I think the trends Putnam and others were identifying fifteen years ago are even more evident today, in the aggregate loss in membership and number of volunteers in Parent-Teacher Associations, Women’s Clubs, any number of civic organizations, and the church.  Our leisure time has become much more individualized, via television and internet. 

                       

            We live in a culture in which individualism and consumerism are prominent values.   As I was looking through my notes on this scripture passage, I came across a commentary Kenneth Woodward wrote in Newsweek some time ago, in which he said that one of the most common theological questions asked in our society is “What do I want?” [2]

            In that article, Woodward described a kind of  “mix-em, match-em, salad-bar spirituality."

            You know how salad bars work.  You take what you want:  the mixed greens, the cherry tomatoes, the potato salad.  You leave behind what you don't want:  the sprouts, the pickled beets, the broccoli and cauliflower.  Woodward says a lot of people today assemble their spiritual lives in much the same way.  He cites a contemporary seeker who declares, "Instead of me fitting a religion, I found a religion to fit me." 

            "What do I want?"  is the question we might ask standing in the door of an open refrigerator.  Have you ever done that?  I feel this strange, vague hunger inside me.  I know I want something. 

            "What do I want?" is the question we ask standing in the shopping mall, or the car lot--  hoping something we buy might make us feel whole or happy...  or just better.

            "What do I want?"   When that becomes the only question—or the main question--  religious faith is no longer seen as the center of life and an integrating force holding our lives together--  but rather as just one more thing added into the life we try to put together for ourselves… or something to take or leave, depending on what I want. 

            The thought that religious faith is only about getting what we want can be pretty attractive...  seductive.

            By contrast, Jesus' words in today’s gospel lesson are anything but pretty, when he talks about how he will have to suffer…be rejected…and die.

            Though the way of Jesus sounds strange--  there is also something strangely appealing about it.  Jesus speaks so confidently about the new life he offers:  life so abundant that if you give it away you only find more of it.  Life so precious that it can't be bought--  but only received as a gift.  The gospel is paradoxical and counter-cultural.

            The popular culture gives us strong messages about who we are and what we’re worth and what life means.  We’re bombarded by commercials on T.V. that tell us that we’ll be happy if we use the right products to keep up appearances…if we have the right look for ourselves and our homes.  Even young children are targeted by advertisers who want to sell toys and junk food.

            The way of consumerism invites us to grasp and grab...  and work and toil, never satisfied, always wanting more....  always trying to fill some deep emptiness which can't be filled with anything less than God.

            When we have ears to hear, we’re invited to choose the way that leads to life and abundance.  As Christians, we’re challenged by our faith to repent—to re-think, to open ourselves to be transformed by the good news of the gospel.            

            One of the great joys of the Christian life is when parents present their children for baptism.  This is their public declaration that they want their child to be a part of the church and to have a ministry in it—even before the child is old enough to be fully aware of all the love that surrounds her or him. 

            For some of us, our children can be the reason we begin to participate more faithfully in the life of Christ.  In my own life, I’d been turned off by some experiences in the church I grew up in, and so I left the church when I went away to college.  Part of what drew me back into the church some years later was a feeling that I wanted my son to be nurtured in a church family.

            Because of my own experience, I identify with the story of a woman named Karin in Nick Taylor’s book Ordinary Miracles: Life in a Small Church.[3]   Karin had been baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal Church, and defected as a teen to the Methodists, who had a better youth group.  Then, after high school, she fell away from church.  “I graduated from nursing school…and went to work.   There was no time for God in my life.   But our God is a patient God,” she wrote.

            Soon she was living her version of the American dream.  She had a husband who loved her and whom she loved, a house in the suburbs, a station wagon in the driveway, two kids, the dog, the whole nine yards.  The material things were all there.  But something was missing.

            Karin realized she was looking for God in her life when she brought her children to church and made baptismal promises for them.  She said, “God was calling me back, and I finally heard….”

            At St. Mary’s, she found a loving community of people trying to live as Jesus taught.  The congregation welcomed her and her husband, and later her husband decided he wanted to live his life as a follower of Jesus.

            Karin made a discovery about the essence of her spiritual journey as she was making a trip she’d been dreading, when she delivered her first baby into a new life away at college.  Her daughter had stayed up most of the night at a farewell party, and she was sleeping in the seat next to her.  Karin wrote, “I had so many things to say to her.  There’s a saying that your children aren’t yours to keep, but God loans them to you for a while.  It was time for me to step to the sidelines.

            Karin reflected:  “God has blessed [us] with our daughters.  That morning on the long drive, I thought about the past eighteen years and how different my life has become.  Would I be the same person I am, if not for this sleeping young woman next to me?   Again, I realized God had put Susan and her sisters into my life for a reason.  In making sure they had a religious education, my own knowledge and love of God has been deepened immeasurably.  The void I felt so long ago has been filled.”

            When parents bring their children for baptism and promise to raise them in the faith, it can be a new beginning for the parents—and for all of us-- as well.

            Baptism is central to our identity as Christians.    As we live into our baptism, we learn who we are and whose we are.  We are nurtured to see ourselves as beloved children of God, and that can make all the difference!

            Baptism is a life-changing, transforming event in our lives.  The baptismal font stands at the front of sanctuary as we worship God every Sunday, reminding us that we’ve been initiated into this congregation, as well as into the universal church of Jesus Christ.  It reminds us that we’re an important part of the Body of Christ—marked and identified as a disciple of Christ.  The church is where we grow in faith and learn over a lifetime what it means to follow Jesus Christ. 

            In our Presbyterian and Reformed tradition, our understanding of baptism emphasizes God’s initiative.  God reaches out graciously to us, and offers us the gift of life in the kingdom as a free gift.  We respond by dedicating our lives to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and committing ourselves to follow him.  Baptism is the beginning of our life in the church…a first step in a journey that takes a lifetime.

            When we baptize children, we promise to teach them who they are in the light of God’s truth.  We promise to teach them what makes them different as part of a holy people…a royal priesthood…consecrated to God’s service.  We’re called to tell the good news of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ…and to show in our lives how God has saved us by calling us out of darkness into God’s marvelous light.[4]

            When parents present their child for baptism, they promise to live the Christian faith themselves, and to teach that faith to their children, by word and example.  When we baptize a child, the whole congregation makes promises to nurture that child in a variety of ways, and to teach them the faith.  To grow up in the faith, we and our children need to worship and learn together—in our families, and in the faith community which is the church. 

            Each time we baptize a new Christian, we’re inviting that person on a journey that will take a lifetime.  Today, we’re inviting Leah to be part of the great adventure we call church.

            What God will make of Leah’s life, or where God will lead her, we don’t know.

            But what we do know…what we can say with certainty-- because we have God’s promise—is that God is with us every step of the way.

            May God bless Leah and her family…and all of us on our adventure as we discern our call further into the life God is offering us!

            Amen!

            

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

October 11, 2015

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[1] Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2000).

[2] Kenneth L. Woodward and others, “A Time to Seek,” Newsweek (Dec. 17, 1990), page 50.

[3] Nick Taylor, Ordinary Miracles: Life in a Small Church (1993).

[4] 1 Peter 2:9

          

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[1] Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (2000).

[2] Kenneth L. Woodward and others, “A Time to Seek,” Newsweek (Dec. 17, 1990), page 50.

[3] Nick Taylor, Ordinary Miracles: Life in a Small Church (1993).

"Don't You Understand?" A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Isaiah 56:1-7 and Mark 8:1-21, on World Communion Sunday.

"Don't You Understand?"

Mark 8:1-21

            Does this story sound familiar?   Haven’t we heard this story before?

            Actually, we have.  In Mark chapter 6, we heard a story of a miraculous feeding of a multitude.  But this time some of the details are different.   A thousand fewer people.   Two more loaves of bread.  And five fewer baskets of left-overs.  

            Jesus looks around at the huge crowd that came to hear him and says to his disciples, “I’m really concerned for the people.  They’ve been with me for three days now, and they don’t have anything to eat.   If I send them home hungry, they’ll collapse on the way.  Some of them have come from miles away.”

            The disciples don’t sound like they’ve seen a crowd get fed miraculously as they answer:  “”But Jesus, where could you get food for all these people, out here in the wilderness?” 

            The disciples have seen something like this before.  But everything that’s happening is so much bigger and so different from what they’d been expecting or hoping for that they apparently can’t take it all in. 

            Jesus tells the crowd to sit down.  He takes the seven loaves, gives thanks, breaks them and gives them to the disciples to distribute.   The people in the crowd eat, and they’re satisfied, and then they gather up seven baskets of left-overs before they send the people away. 

            Over the years, biblical scholars have tried to figure out why Mark tells this second feeding story, when the first one was more impressive, with 1,000 more people in the crowd?  Is he just telling us, “Jesus did it again”? 

            There are some interesting details in the two stories.  In the feeding story in chapter 6,  Jesus told the 5,000 people to sit down, and they sat down on the green grass.  In the Galilee, grass grows quickly in the spring, but once the rains stop in May it gets scorched by the fierce sun.  So, according to N.T. Wright, the earlier feeding took place around the time of the Jewish Passover.[1]   Some scholars have suggested that the 12 baskets of left-overs  from the 5,000 people symbolize the twelve tribes of Israel,  while the 7 baskets of left-overs may represent his ministry to the wider Gentile world, with—in Jewish folklore—70 nations.   The first feeding story took place on the predominately Jewish side of the lake, and today’s story, they’re on the predominately Gentile side.  

            Then there’s number symbolism in this story—the 7 loaves and 7 baskets of left-overs are significant.  In Genesis, God gives Noah seven laws, which would apply to Noah’s descendants—all of humankind-- in contrast to the five books of Jewish law. [2]    In Deuteronomy there’s a contrast between the Hebrew people with the seven nations of Canaan. [3]  According to William Placher, first-century readers, who were fascinated by number symbolism, would have read this passage and said, “This time Jesus is feeding Gentiles.[4]

            In the early church Mark was addressing, there was a major controversy about who was included and the relation of Jewish and Gentile Christians, so I think Mark is telling us in this story that Jesus came to feed Gentiles as well as Jews. 

            But there’s something else—a theme that becomes more pronounced in the next episode.  Even thought the disciples had witnessed the feeding of 5,000 people, when Jesus told them they needed to feed the 4,000 people, it apparently didn’t occur to them to say, “You know, that thing you did to feed the crowd on the other side of the Sea of Galilee—could you do it again?”

            After they feed the 4,000 people and send them away, immediately Jesus gets into the boat with his disciples and they cross the lake, back to Jewish territory.  The Pharisees come and begin to argue with Jesus, asking him for a sign from heaven, because they want to test him. 

            So Jesus and the disciples get back in the boat and cross to the other side.  Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread.  They had only one loaf with them in the boat, and they’re worried about the scarcity.

            Jesus cautions them, saying, “Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.”  The disciples say to one another, “It’s because we don’t have any bread.”

            Jesus hears them and says, “Why are you talking about having no bread?  Do you still not perceive or understand?  Are your hearts hardened?  Do you have ears, and fail to hear?  And do you not remember?  When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?”  They said to him, “Twelve.” 

            “And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” And they said to him, “Seven.” 

            Then Jesus said to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

            For a lot of us, it is hard to understand.  We’re afraid we don’t have enough bread to share with those in need.    We worry we don’t have enough money.  We hear get confused by “the leaven of the Pharisees”—the message of those who want God to set up a kingdom that’s about observing the law with great strictness,  rather than the kingdom of love and justice that includes all the people Jesus wants to include. 

            The kingdom of God is much wider and more gracious and inclusive than we might have imagined.

            Do we understand?  Can we see it?   Can we hear it?  

            Listen to how Jan Richardson describes it in  “And The Table Will Be Wide”:   

           

And the table will be wide.

And the welcome will be wide

And the arms will open wide to gather us in.

And our hearts will open wide to receive.

And we will come as children who trust there is enough.

And we will come unhindered and free.

And our aching will be met with bread.

And our sorrow will be met with wine.

And we will open our hands to the feast without shame.

And we will turn toward each other without fear.

And we will give up our appetite for despair.

And we will taste and know of delight.

And we will become bread for a hungering world.

And we will become drink for those who thirst.

And the blessed will become the blessing.

And everywhere will be the feast. [5]

May it be so!  Amen!

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Thank you to Jan Richardson for permission to quote her work.  Please check out her blog at:  http://paintedprayerbook.com

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[1] N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone. (Westminster John Knox Press, 2001/2004), p. 78.

[2] Genesis 9:4-7

[3] Deuteronomy 7:1

[4] William Placher, Mark: Belief, a Theological Commentary  (Westminster John Knox Press, 2010),

[5] Jan Richardson,  
And the Table Will Be Wide: A Blessing for World Communion Sunday.”  Quoted by permission.  Copyright Jan Richardson. Janrichardson.com  

Can blind men and elephants and even trolls help us to live and learn together?

Some of you know that I’m part of several interfaith groups on Facebook that work to build relationships and bridges of understanding.  In these groups, I am in regular conversation with Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and some who identify with other faiths.

From time to time we get a “troll,” which in internet slang is a person who “sows discord by starting arguments or upsetting people, by posting inflammatory, extraneous, or off-topic messages in an online community with the deliberate intent of provoking readers into an emotional response… often for their own amusement." [1]

In a group that’s trying to build interfaith bridges, people tend to be very welcoming and open and try to give constructive feedback when someone starts telling group members that those from different religious traditions from the one posting won’t be “saved” or that they need to convert to their tradition.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell for a while whether someone new is a “troll” or someone who is very sincere and is from a religious tradition that has taught them that they need to try to convert people who have different beliefs, to “save” them for heaven/paradise and to save them from “hell”.  Maybe they truly don’t understand the purpose of the group.  Perhaps they do have some understanding of the group’s purpose, but they’re so convinced that their beliefs are the only right ones that they feel righteous in telling people that their beliefs are wrong or their scriptures are inferior.  After all, in their mind, they have the right beliefs and follow the right religion, and they want that for everybody.

One of the books I’ve been reading lately is The Interfaith Alternative: Embracing Spiritual Diversity, by Steven Greenbaum.  I’m hoping to review it more fully later.  Fundamental to this book is the concept of “right belief,” which the author says has been the organizing principle of our spiritual paths for a very long time.  If many of us and many of our religious communities believe that we have the only way, that we are the only chosen people, and that we follow the only right spiritual path, the result can be  distrust, hatred and violence.    

In this book, Greenbaum offers an Interfaith alternative, which respects each spiritual path and recognizes what we all share in common:  the call to love and to be loving and compassionate.

Greenbaum suggests “Maybe dividing ourselves into righteous pockets of spiritual belief is not the best way to bring about love.”  We humans are great at building walls between ourselves and those who are different in some way. For too long, too many of us have been stuck in a paradigm that demands that we search for or protect the one “right belief,”   I think Greenbaum is right when he says “Who has the right belief?” is the wrong question, and that we need to be more concerned with a different question: “How do we live as a result of our beliefs?”  We need to stop arguing about which religious tradition is “best” or “right” or “true”, and find ways to be in conversation with one another and to work together to honor God/Allah/Hashem or whatever we call the One we worship, through works of compassion, mercy, and justice.

For those who struggle with the question of “Who is right?”and the desire to define God,  Greenbaum offers several helpful ways of considering an alternative.  One of them is in the Indian fable of “The Blind Men and the Elephant.”  We had a picture book version of this at our house when my son was young, and I bought a new copy recently.  The story originated in the Indian subcontinent and is widely known in many traditions, including Buddist, Jain, Hindu, and Sufi Muslim traditions.

In various versions of the story, a group of blind men (or people in the dark) touch an elephant to learn what it’s like.  Each one feels a different part.  In some versions, their differences get violent, as each one is convinced he has it right and tries to dominate.  In some versions of the story, they stop talking, start listening, and work together to “see” the whole elephant. 

Isn’t it time we all become more conscious and more intentional about this?   Isn’t it time we all stop trying to defend our one right truth and find ways to be in conversation with those who may have experienced a different truth?  And even more importantly, isn’t it time for us to remember the call of all our religious traditions, the call to love and compassion?  We live in such a broken and hurting world.  Isn’t it time to work together to make the world more peaceful and just?

 Fran Hayes

October 2, 2015

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[1] Wikipedia.

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"It's All About Love." A sermon preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church for Good News Sunday, on Sept. 27, 2015.

"It's All About Love"

Good News Sunday Sermon

Isaiah 43:1-7; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:9-17

         Today is officially Good News Sunday at Littlefield!   We told people that—if they brought someone to worship today—we promise that they would hear some good news! 

            I hope that people were paying attention to the scripture passages today as they were being read.   Have you heard some good news?  I hope so.  That takes a bit of the pressure off me, now.  Though I’ll do my best.

            I do believe we have good news to share--  important and life-changing good news.  Sometimes I think I risk sounding like a “broken record.”   Some of you have heard me say this over and over again, in various ways.   But the more I’ve studied the scriptures over the years and looked for the main themes and the big picture, the more I’ve become convinced that our Christian faith is really all about love. 

            God loves us.  We are—all of us-- God’s beloved children.  Our faith is about responding to God’s love for us and for all God’s children by loving God   and loving all the people God loves. 

            The Old Testament includes a lot of stories and verses that a lot of us find puzzling and troubling.  Yet one of the major themes in the Old Testament is of God’s steadfast mercy.  One of my Old Testament teachers at seminary did her doctoral dissertation on the recurring theme of “hesed”,  which is a Hebrew word that can be translated as “mercy,” or “steadfast loving-kindness.”   One of the other prominent themes in the Old Testament is how God keeps sending prophets to call people back to living in right relationship with God and neighbor…  and how those right relationships are characterized by love and justice and mercy.

             The gospel message in the New Testament proclaims in various ways how Jesus came to live among us, full of grace and truth, to embody God’s love for us, and to show us how to live in the way of love.   Jesus preached about the “kingdom of God” or the “reign of God” and how we are called to live into it.       

            When people asked Jesus what the most important commandment is, he said what’s most important is two-fold:  Love God.  Love your neighbor.  In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus made it clear that your neighbor is anybody we encounter—even people who are different…  people we might even see as enemies. 

            In his last talk with his disciples, Jesus said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  People will know you are my followers by the way you love one another.”[1]

            In the gospel lesson we heard today, Jesus tells his followers, “If you keep my commandments  [the commandments to love God and love the neighbor] we will abide in his love.”   Jesus tells his disciples that he has said these things so that we may have his joy, and that our joy may be complete.

            Jesus made it very clear that it’s all about love.  So I keep wondering how so many people who call them selves Christians could be so confused about this.   

            We live in such a broken and fearful world.   Our government spends vast amounts of resources fighting terrorism.  Alarm systems to protect homes, businesses, and even churches are commonplace.  

            We live in a nation plagued by gun violence.  Every year in the United States,  an average of more than 100,000 people are shot.   That’s an average of 289 people shot every day, and   eighty-six of them die.   Precious lives, of beloved children of God—lost. 

            So many people in our society fear and mistrust those who are different:  Muslims…  people whose skin is a different color…  immigrants.     

            There are too many people in our nation who are hungry or food insecure or lack the basic things they need to live a life of dignity.

            In the midst of all this brokenness and fear and injustice, how are we-- as people of faith-- called to live?

           

            “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God.  Everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God--  for God is love.   Since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.    No one has ever seen God.  If we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.”

            I hear the scriptures saying that loving one another is a spiritual practice, and that-- as we work at loving one another—God is living in us and working in us and perfecting love in us….

            “There is no fear in love.  But perfect love casts out fear.  Whoever fears has not reached maturity in love.”

            We love because God first loved us.   If we say, “I love God” but hate our brother or sister, we’re lying about loving God.   As we heard in First John,  “those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen—cannot love God, whom they have not seen.

            Fear divides us.  It leads to violence and destruction.   Hatred and fear are toxic.  They harm us as persons and as a society.

            But there is a way out.  It is not the way of fear, and hate and violence; it is the way of love.  In Dr. Martin Luther King’s words:  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
            If we’re honest with ourselves, we know that we have a long way to go to drive hatred and fear out of our lives and out of our society.  Living in the way of love is not easy.  Living in the way of love is too hard to do on our own power alone.
            And so… we need to be in prayer.   We need to open our lives to God’s call in our lives, as we live further into God’s dream for the world—the world that God so loves.   
            We need each other.  The Greek word ekklesia which we translate as “church” literally means an “assembly,” or those who are gathered together.  We need to come together as a community of faith--  not for the sake of coming to a place called church--  but for the sake of coming together as part of the Body of Christ… for the sake of gathering as disciples who need to learn and practice living in the way of love.   We need to love one another and encourage one another.  We need to love one another into becoming more and more the beloved children of God we were created to be.   We need to love one another into becoming the beloved community. 
            God isn’t finished with any of us yet.  Our love isn’t yet perfect, and it hasn’t yet cast out all our fears.   But God is still working in and among and through us,  through the power of the Holy Spirit-- leading and empowering us to become more patient and kind and generous… and helping us to become less envious or controlling… less irritable or resentful. 
            God is still working in us, guiding us further into the truth, re-forming us, teaching us what it means to go out and be the church out in the world, in this time.

            The good news is that as we grow more and more into God’s way of love, God’s love will cast out our fears.

            In a broken and fearful world, 1we can trust in the Holy Spirit to give us courage to pray without ceasing.[2]   As we work with others for justice, freedom and peace, our lives will be transformed, and together we can change the world.             

           

            So be it!

            Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan]

September 27, 2015

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[1] John 13:31-35

[2] This is an allusion to the Brief Statement of Faith of the Presbyterian Church (USA), 1990.

Interfaith Prayers for Peace on the Sunday before International Day of Peace, at Littlefield Presbyterian Church in Dearborn, Michigan, on September 20, 2015. A meditation from a Christian perspective. We also heard a recitaiton from the Qur'an, a short sermon from Imam Elahi, and selections from the Hebrew scriptures and prayers from Cantor Roger Skully.

Luke 19:41-42; 2 Corinthians 5:16-20

"As Jesus came near and saw the city (Jerusalem), he wept over it, saying, "If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!  But now they are hidden from your eyes."

For those of us who long for a better, more peaceful world, it’s  painful to see so much of what’s going on in the world… in our nation… and in our communities.  It can make us weep!

            For many of us, it’s the images of children that haunt us the most.  A staggering number of Syrian refugees are children and teens.  We were shocked and grieved a few weeks ago to see the photo of the body of a toddler washed up on the shore.  And now we learn that another refugee child has been found dead on the shore, and more are missing at sea.

            Many of us mourn when we remember there are millions of other children who die each year on this planet with little notice-- of malnutrition and of illnesses that could be prevented or treated if the world cared enough.

            Here in the United States, the Department of Agriculture reports that around 10 percent of households with children are food insecure—unable to provide adequate, nutritious food for their children.  More than 1 in 9 children in Michigan live in extreme poverty, at less than half the poverty-level income.

            The rate of gun deaths in children and teens in the United States is shockingly high.

            Many of us are troubled by events like the massacre of 9 African-Americans gathered at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston for Bible study in June by a white racist   and other race-related violence.
            In a neighbor city—Sterling Heights—there’s an ugly conflict over a request to build a new mosque.
            The list could go on and on… 

            I don’t know about you, but I find myself mourning all this violence and need and destruction… and longing to do something.  But it feels overwhelming.

            So--  what can we do?  In the midst of all the violence and hatred and apathy in our society… in the midst of racism and Islamaphobia and anti-Semitism… in the midst of all the need-- it’s easy to feel overwhelmed… and despairing.  What can one person  or just a few people do?

             

            We can begin by praying together… and forging bonds of friendship and solidarity… getting to know one another better… opening our hearts and minds to one another… and finding ways to work together to change the world. 

            Some of us have been working on these things.  Imam Elahi and I have been getting to know each other and working together in our Dearborn Area Interfaith Network group (and its predecessor Dearborn Area Ministerial Association) for the last 18 years.  Cantor Roger Skully has been involved with other interfaith groups in metro Detroit. 

            Some of you are part of one or more interfaith Facebook groups whose purpose is to build bridges of understanding—hence the names “The Bridge” and “Our Bridge.” 

            In the Christian tradition, we believe that Jesus came to embody God’s love in the world.  When people came to Jesus and asked him which commandment in the scriptures was the most important, Jesus answered, “’You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” 

            In Luke’s version of this, he tells how someone said, “Who is my neighbor?”  and Jesus went on to make it clear in the Parable of the Good Samaritan that our neighbor is anyone God puts in our path--  even someone we might have considered to be an enemy.[1]

            In the center of the passage we heard a few minutes ago from the apostle Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth, we hear that God has reconciled us to God’s self through Christ, and has entrusted us with the ministry of reconciliation.    Christians are not to look at anyone from a human point of view.  We’re not to see people who are different in some way as those other people.  We’re called to look at people through God’s eyes of love and to see our common humanity.    

            I think we need to spend more time doing interfaith scripture study, so I could share a passage like one of the ones we’ve heard today, and say, “Here’s a text that’s important to our faith.  What’s a text from your tradition that connects with it?  Where’s the common ground?”  Can we do that?  Will we do that? 

                       

            Our commitment to peace and justice and reconciliation, and our love for our own children, demands that we provide a better inheritance for them.”

            On this Sunday before International Day of Peace, we are challenged to re-commit ourselves to PEACE… to live our lives as if we believe that peace is possible.

            Christians…Muslims…Jews…Sikhs…Hindus…Buddhists… and all people of faith and goodwill —this is a time for us to find ways to come together and work for a better, more peaceful world.

            There’s hard work to be done.   But we can work together to make a difference.

             After worship, we invite you to stay for a time, to enjoy refreshments and conversation.   I hope you’ll make a new friend today.  Talk with one another about your families—especially your children or grandchildren and what kind of a world you want to leave for them.

            U2 sings a song that begins like this:

            “Every generation gets a chance to change the world….”

            Today, let’s renew our commitment to change the world, beginning today. 

            May it be so!

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[1] Luke 10:25-37; also Matthew 22:36-40; Mark 12:28-31

Out of Ashes and Fear: Remembering 9/11 Fourteen Years Later

Throughout this non-stop busy day, I’ve been remembering 9/11 fourteen years ago.  I’d been doing some work from home with a morning show in the background before heading to the church office when the terrible, tragic events of the day began to unfold.  With a sick knot in my stomach, I gathered up my work bag and grabbed my 5-inch TV to carry to the office.  Like many of you, I was glued to the news that day, watching and praying. 

I remember one of my Muslim neighbors saying that day, “O, Fran.  We’re so sorry.”  As if my gentle, loving neighbors could have had anything to do with that act of terror.  They couldn’t comprehend what happened that day any more than I could—how anyone, in the name of God/Allah/religion/faith could perpetrate such a thing.

We sent out a group email to the church list, and a group of us gathered that evening in the sanctuary to search for a word from God in the midst of the pain and terror, to hold hands, to weep together, and to pray.

We received a poster via email that read, “This is a hate free zone.”  We printed several  and posted them on the church doors.  Over the next few days, Muslim neighbors, some of whom were staying very close to home until they felt safe, would ask if they could come into our Presbyterian church and pray.  Some of them lit candles for peace.  I think they all felt safe and welcome in our sanctuary.

During the weeks and months that followed, people of faith from the Dearborn area and beyond gathered together in various houses of worship, in churches and mosques.  We shared our grief and pain, heard religious and community leaders struggle to share some wisdom, prayed, and looked for a way to move forward in hope.

Out of the terrible loss of that day fourteen years ago, out of the ashes and fear came a new or renewed commitment to work together to build bridges of understanding in our communities.  Several of our local mosques held open houses and invited the neighborhood to come and learn more about Islam.  The church I serve, Littlefield Presbyterian Church, had the first of a series of Muslim-Christian Dialogue Days. We began with an interfaith worship service in the morning, a time for lunch and conversation, and afternoon presentations from religious and community leaders. 

As a result of the interfaith and peacemaking work by various congregations and our Dearborn Area Ministerial Association (later Dearborn Area Interfaith Network), we have grown and strengthened relationships.  These relationships helped us to work together to respond effectively as a community when outside anti-Muslim activists like Terry Jones, Acts 19, and the “Bible Believers” with their pig head on a stick came to town trying to cause dissension.

The Interfaith Prayers for Peace that we will hold on Sunday, September 20 at Littlefield Presbyterian Church is our latest effort to bring people together, to celebrate our unity and diversity, to find common ground, and to pray together for peace in our communities, in our nation, and the world.  All are welcome.