Traditons on trial

TRADITIONS ON TRIAL

Mark 7:1-23

Upper Rogue UMC, August 30, 2015 

 

Rituals are important markers of the times of our lives. For 64 of the last 68 years, my October 6^th has begun with a Bisquick coffee cake. A tradition that began on the day of my birth, when my mother , who was preparing that recipe for Sunday breakfast, had to abandon her efforts and leave for the hospital to give birth to your pastor. Every year during my childhood and youth, my birthday celebration began with The coffeecake. The tradition was dropped when I was in the service, but one of the wedding gifts my mother gave Fay was the recipe for THE coffeecake. And the tradition continues.

Can you imagine Halloween without costumes and “trick or treat?” Thanksgiving without turkey? Christmas without a tree? These kinds of rituals and traditions connect us to one another, anchor our past and propel us into the future. This is especially true of the traditions and rituals of the church. Just a few weeks ago John Cox led us on a trip through the seasons of the church year. Baptisms, weddings and funerals mark important places along our spiritual journey. Baptism celebrates our birth into the family of Christ. Weddings mark the pledge of fidelity; the faithfulness of love; and the formation of a new family. Funerals bring us face to face with our mortality as celebrate the lives of the faithful and the promise of eternal life. The customs and traditions that surround our life events serve to unite us as a culture, as family, and as the church. Holy Communion, Crismon trees, “giving up” for Lent, Easter Sunrise services, just to name a few, are important and valuable traditions of today's church.

If traditions are so important, why does Jesus seem to condemn them? When some Pharisees noticed that his disciples didn't always wash up prior to eating they asked Jesus why? Mar 7:6-13 Jesus answered them, "How right Isaiah was when he prophesied about you! You are hypocrites, just as he wrote: 'These people, says God, honor me with their words, but their heart is really far away from me. (7) It is no use for them to worship me, because they teach human rules as though they were my laws!' (8) "You put aside God's command and obey human teachings." (9) And Jesus continued, "You have a clever way of rejecting God's law in order to uphold your own teaching. (10) For Moses commanded, 'Respect your father and your mother,' and, 'If you curse your father or your mother, you are to be put to death.' (11) But you teach that if people have something they could use to help their father or mother, but say, 'This is Corban' (which means, it belongs to God), (12) they are excused from helping their father or mother. (13) In this way the teaching you pass on to others cancels out the word of God. And there are many other things like this that you do."

Jesus doesn't condemn traditions in and of themselves. What he condemns is the misuse of traditions, and the following of traditions for their own sake. Traditions are at their best whey they are meaningful symbols of a spiritual truth. The tradition of hand washing dates to the days of the Exodus, when God commanded: Exo 30:19-20 Aaron and his sons are to use the water to wash their hands and feet (20) before they go into the Tent or approach the altar to offer the food offering... clean hands, and clean feet represent pureness of heart, without which we cannot hope to enter the presence of the Holy. The Pharisees had twisted this symbol, making it a law that folks had to wash up before eating. Now, as your mother told you, washing up before meals is a good idea...but it is not a substitute for humble obedience and sincere worship. It is said that when Edward VI, the king of England in the 16th century, attended a worship service, he stood while the Word of God was read. He took notes during this time and later studied them with great care. Through the week he earnestly tried to apply them to his life. That's the kind of serious-minded response to truth the apostle James calls for in today's Scripture reading. A single revealed fact cherished in the heart and acted upon is more vital to our growth than a head filled with lofty ideas about God.

Just as the laws of cleanliness had been twisted, the laws of giving had been perverted to allow a person to declare his possessions “Corban,” or dedicated to God. This, in essence, made one a trustee of his own estate, allowing them to care lavishly for themselves, while ignoring the command to honor their parents. They had not just twisted the intent of the law, they were using it to justify sin. A colleague tells of a parishioner who came to her complaining about his widowed mother who was sharing living quarters with a man in order to stretch her meager Social Security check. “It's not right!,” the son complained. “she's living immorally and setting a bad example for my children.”

“What are you doing to help her? Do you honor her?” my colleague asked.

“Of course I honor her. I try to live the way she taught me. I've always been an obedient son.”

“But are you providing for her? That's what the second commandment is about. Honoring our parents means being sure they have the basic needs of life: food, housing, medical care and so on.” Like the pharisees, my friend's parishioner had lost sight of what the second commandment really means.

What the Pharisees missed, and James reminds us is that (Jas 1:27) What God the Father considers to be pure and genuine religion is this: to take care of orphans and widows in their suffering and to keep oneself from being corrupted by the world.

When we try to replace pure hearts and sincere worship with lip service religion and empty rituals, we become modern day Pharisees; modern day hypocrites.

Deeply immersed in meditation during a church service, Italian poet Dante Alighieri failed to kneel at the appropriate moment. His enemies hurried to the bishop and demanded that Dante be punished for his sacrilege. Dante defended himself by saying, "If those who accuse me had had their eyes and minds on God, as I had, they too would have failed to notice events around them, and they most certainly would not have noticed what I was doing."

Faith is not a matter of simply going through the motions. (James 1:23 If you listen to the word, but do not put it into practice you are like people who look in a mirror and see themselves as they are. (24) They take a good look at themselves and then go away and at once forget what they look like. (25) But if you look closely into the perfect law that sets people free, and keep on paying attention to it and do not simply listen and then forget it, but put it into practice---you will be blessed by God in what you do. Stanley C Brown tells of A young boy, on an errand for his mother, he had just bought a dozen eggs. Walking out of the store, he tripped and dropped the sack. All the eggs broke, and the sidewalk was a mess. The boy tried not to cry. A few people gathered to see if he was OK and to tell him how sorry they were. In the midst of the works of pity, one man handed the boy a quarter. Then he turned to the group and said, "I care 25 cents worth. How much do the rest of you care?" Words don't mean much if we have the ability to do more.

Are you simply going through the motions? Or is your faith part and parcel of who and what you are? John Wesley said we are to do all the good we can, wherever we can, to whoever we can for as long as we can. That's our challenge for the days ahead.

This is my last sermon at Hope United Methodist Church.  Now that I have retired, my posts may be a bit more irregular--but something new should appear from time to time.

SEQUELS

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, Luke 24:1-9

June 24, 2012

Retirement Sunday

Hope UMC

Fay an I went to see “The Avengers” a few weeks ago, and as we left the theater she said: “I see a lot of sequels to this movie.” If there's anything Hollywood loves better than a sequel, it's a whole series of sequels ala' Friday the 13^th, Halloween, Spider man, Batman, Harry Potter, And, of course, the sequels that invented “Prequels,” Star Wars. Now,as I stand here, before you all, on the last Sunday of my local church ministry, I can only say: “I see a lot of sequels in my retirement!”

Solomon, the wisest of the Israelites, saw that life was a series of sequels. Death follows life, reaping follows planting, peace follows war, joy follows sorrow, and so it goes. Life is a series of sequels. My life with Fay is a sequel to my childhood; the births of the girls was a sequel to the years we were just two; answering my call was a sequel to my life as a layperson; the empty nest and grandparent-hood is a sequel to life with the girls...and so it goes, one sequel after another. And the more we try to guess what's next, the wronger we are....like Thomas Watson, IBM CEO who, in 1943 predicted: “I think there is a world market for maybe 5 computers;” or the Western Union executive who turned down a chance to purchase Mr. Bell's new telephone. A few weeks ago I was reading about a 1962 “future of Washington County” report. They anticipated a lot of new food processing plants—no mention of hi-tech, no mention of the suburbanization of the east end of the county, no mention of Nike; and they're still waiting for the food processing plants to materialize.

The fact is, none of us know what the future holds. Those who have poured over their Bibles, calculators in hand, to predict the end of the world have, thus far, always awakened the day after. So far there have been over 200 dates proclaimed as the last day—all of which have past away while the world keeps on spinning. The Millennial Bug that threatened economic collapse on Jan. 1, 2000 never left its nest. Just last year billboards incorrectly announced the May 21, 2011 end of the world; and I missed it! I know I'm not the most observant guy in the world, I don't always notice that my wife changed her toenail color—but how'd I miss the end of the world? I can only assume it didn't happen. I predict, and you can hold me to his prophecy, I predict that the Mayans will prove to be just as wrong. We do not know, we cannot know, what the future holds—but we can and do know the one who holds the future.

The women who went to the tomb on that first Easter morning faced a bleak future. One they loved, one they depended on, the One they thought would save the world was dead. Now they came to anoint and prepare the body of Jesus, close the grave back up, mourn his death and look to a life without him. (but that's not what happened. Instead, they found: (Reflections, He's Not Here Anymore) They certainly didn't expect to find the stone rolled away and two angles in radiant white clothes greeting them. They did not expect a resurrection; yet, just as he said, but no one really believed, Jesus rose from the dead—and all history since is a sequel. For the followers of Jesus, the resurrection eliminated fear of the future and compelled them to step out boldly proclaiming the gospel.

I don't know what my retirement holds—I know what I've planned: continuing my fire chaplaincy work with Jackson County Fire District 3, continuing to preach and hold healing services in any church that will have me, improving my mandolin playing and learning the banjo, learning how to make a pie crust, some travel with Fay, and, just maybe, a little golf and fishing. That's what I've planned, but is it what God has planned? I don't know, I'll just have to live each day as it comes and follow the heeding of the Holy Spirit.

For the past 25 years I have preached and pastored. For the past nine years I have been blessed to do it in this place. It's been a good, but the time has come to say farewell; the time has come for me to move on and for someone else to pastor and preach in this place. I don't know about you, but I hate good-byes. As exciting as it is to move on into a new phase of my life, it also saddens my heart to leave this place that has been home to Fay and I longer than any other place we have lived in our married lives. In fact, that big old house on Oatfield Road where I spent 12 of my growing up years, is the only place I've ever lived longer! And I guess that makes leaving even harder. Where do I start? Who do I thank first? Who gets the last hug?

Actually that's the easy part. Fay, without whom nothing I have accomplished would have been possible, gets the first thank you, the first hug, and the last hug. It's been a great ride, so far, Honey, and I look forward to finishing the trip with you.

I think if there's one thing I want each of you to know, it is how much you have honored me by allowing me into your lives at their most intimate and vulnerable points: the births, the weddings, the joys, the tragedies, the deaths, and the grievings. Together we have rejoiced, laughed, praised, sung, wept, and mourned—through it all upheld and uplifted by the peace, presence and power of the Holy Spirit. As I leave and you prepare to receive first Pastor Bob, and then, Pastor Mark, I urge you to welcome them into your lives the way you have welcomed me.

For the past nine years, I have been preaching to you to be open to change. And in the past nine years a lot has changed: some of it good, some of it not so good; but life is change, and without change there can be no life. This is a big change, a big change for me as I transition from work to retirement, and a big change for you as you welcome your first new pastor in almost a decade, and the first new pastor for Hope United Methodist Church. If you will face these changes, as major as they are, with the same openness and willingness that you have faced change in the past, the change will be smooth and good things will happen.

Today there are a lot of festivities planned, and it is fitting that we celebrate the good times we have had together. But first, nine years ago we introduced ourselves with Holy Communion, and I think it is only proper that we say our farewells in that same way. Our Lord has prepared the feast. The table is set. Come, Celebrate, and give thanks, Let the party begin!

Blessings to you all,

chaplain dann

MOTHERS, BROTHERS, FATHERS, SISTERS

Mark 3:20-35

June 10, 2012

Hope UMC

The first scheduled event I have after my retirement will be my family reunion. That means all the brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, nieces, nephews, some of whom, like my sister Joy who is our host, are not related by either blood or marriage. That's the way it is with our family. We don't define family by bloodline, but by nearness and dearness. Jesus didn't define family in the traditional way either.

(Mar 3:20) “Then Jesus went home. Again such a large crowd gathered that Jesus and his disciples had no time to eat.” Some of the people around thought he had gone off the deep end, so thy called in his family to “get him under control.” Perhaps it was because some scribes had come from Jerusalem and accused Jesus of being possessed by Beelzebul, the head demon. The scribes were kind of a hybrid between lawyers and teachers. Their primary task was the written word. These were the people who made copies of scriptures and kept the law libraries current. As caretakers of the law they had a place of prominence, since they were among the few who could read and interpret the Torah's meaning to the people.

Because they were leaders and defenders of the Jewish religious system, when they came all the way from Jerusalem and accused Jesus of “forcing out demons with the help of Beelzebul," they were serious charges made by serious people. When the Scribes spoke, people listened. Jesus defended himself with the argument that a divided house is doomed. “How can Beelzebul force himself out?” Jesus asks. (Mar 3:24) A nation whose people fight each other won't last very long. (Mar 3:25) And a family that fights won't last long either. (Mar 3:26) So if Satan fights against himself, that will be the end of him.”

When Jesus' mother and brothers arrived, they couldn't get into the house, so they sent a message asking to speak to him. (Mar 3:32) A crowd was sitting around Jesus, and they said to him, "Look, your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, and they want you."

(Mar 3:33) Jesus answered, "Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?"

(Mar 3:34) He looked at the people sitting around him and said, "Look! Here are my mother and my brothers!” Several cults have used this verse to justify requiring new members to abandon their families and devote themselves entirely to the group. This is not what Jesus was saying, and certainly not what Jesus did. Just three weeks ago we read how, while hanging on the cross dying, Jesus placed his mother in the care of one of the disciples—that doesn't sound like abandonment to me! No, When he declared: (Mar 3:35) Whoever does what God wants is my brother, my sister, my mother." Jesus redefined and expanded the definition of family. For Jesus, his followers are one big family—a definition we too often forget.

In all my years as a pastor, the hardest thing I've had to deal with is not the tragic illnesses and death,s that are so much a part of life, but a divided church. Fay and I served one community where the school board decided that academics were more important than athletics. This led to the dismissal of a very popular superintendent, who was also a coach, and the hiring of a new superintendent who concentrated on improving the academic standards of the school system. The community was in an uproar! They had been producing championship sports teams for years, and now that dynasty was being demolished. Others in the community thought it was about time the school board got the mission of the schools straight. Our congregation included one of the new members of the school board, the sister of the dismissed Superintendent, the new Superintendent, several parents and grandparents of athletes, and two teachers. Like the community, the church was split—especially when the school board was faced with a recall. There were people in the pews who would not speak to each other, and a few who spoke out with anger and meanness. It was a hard time for that congregation and the community. A divided house cannot stand.

If you have been following politics at all these last two years, you know that both houses of congress are divided along party lines. The result is that good, bad, or indifferent, no bills are being passed, no nominations approved or rejected, no public business transacted—in short, the divided Senate and House are incapable of operating! A divided house cannot stand.

There is a big difference between disagreeing and division. The Republicans can, and should, disagree with the Democrats, and the Democrats can, and should disagree with the Republicans. But when either party refuses to listen or speak to the other—when a member's vote is decided not on the bill, but on which party presents it—that's division, and division helps no one and endangers us all. John Wesley was concerned about the rise of denominations in the church, he told of a dream he had. In the dream, he was ushered to the gates of Hell. There he asked, "Are there any Presbyterians here?" "Yes!", came the answer. Then he asked, "Are there any Baptists? Any Episcopalians? Any Methodists?" The answer was Yes! each time. Much distressed, Wesley was then ushered to the gates of Heaven. There he asked the same question, and the answer was No! "No?" To this, Wesley asked, "Who then is inside?" The answer came back, "There are only Christians here."

That's unity!

As I leave for retirement, and you prepare to receive a new pastor, you have two choices. You can divide into those who resist change and those who welcome it; or, you can come together to bid me farewell and then welcome your new pastor with open arms. Which way you choose will determine the life or death of Hope United Methodist Church. A house divided cannot stand, but a united house, a house built on the foundation of Christ, cannot and will not fall.

Babble Fish and Barriers

Acts 2:1-21

May 27, Pentecost, 2012

In Doug Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, one of the tools available to galactic travelers is the Babble Fish. This fish, when placed in one's ear, allows one to understand, and be understood by those who speak any of the languages in the galaxy. Wouldn't it be great if there really were a Babble fish? Today is Pentecost, the day the Christian Church was born. This is the day the Holy Spirit removed the linguistic barriers that separate humankind. It is sometimes thought that this was a gift of tongues, but it was equally a gift of ears. Like the space travelers with their Babble fish, all of those present heard the Apostle's speaking in their own language.

Speaking another language not only crosses linguistic barriers, it crosses the cultural barriers as well. It is language that allows us to think, and language that limits our thinking. What makes science and mathematics so difficult for some is the inability to think symbolically—to understand the language. In the same way, it is hard to imagine a phenomenon, if there is no word or words to describe it. That's one reason prophetic and apocalyptic scriptures are so hard to understand, and so easily misinterpreted. The writers are dealing with concepts and ideas for which their language has no words.

Pentecost is about not just crossing, but tearing down barriers. No longer need we be separated by language, culture, race, class, ethnicity, gender, or any other barrier. With the coming of the Holy Spirit, God's grace is now available to any and all. And that came as a surprise not only to those gathered outside that house, but to the apostles as well. For the next 2000 years the church would, and still does, struggle with the idea that God's grace is open to everyone—even those we may think are unworthy.

Within the book of Acts, Pentecost takes place shortly after the ascension of Jesus. We might think of the Ascension as a spectacular event that filled the disciples with awe. They experienced it as a profound disappointment. They thought the resurrected Jesus would bring in the kingdom and their work would end. They asked, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" They didn't realize the gritty, dangerous, exhausting work of bearing witness lay just ahead of them. After the Ascension, two men in white robes ask the disciples why they stand staring up into heaven. Maybe even divine messengers can ask dumb questions! I wonder why the disciples didn't respond, "Well, because Jesus just floated up to the sky in a cloud, that's why!"

Even before the disciples became the church they misunderstood the mission, and they longed for the good old days when they could depend on Jesus' leadership. The coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost changes everything!The Apostles had several thousand years of “chosenness” behind them. They were Jews, the chosen people of God. They had carefully separated themselves from the gentiles; clinging to their own traditions, restrictions, and laws. Only Jews could be part of God's chosen race they had been taught, but now all that was being turned on its head. If God's grace and love were for all humankind, then the Jews were no longer “chosen.” They were no longer any more special than anyone else, and they would spend the rest of their days convincing other folks that they were special and loved by God.

Pentecost set the Apostles on fire. O that he Spirit would set us on fire! O that we would proclaim the gospel as boldly as Peter standing before the crowd. O that we would get out of our pews and into the world every day, like we did last Sunday. O that we would tear down the blockades that keep us from listening to one another. O that we would each hear the Word of God in our own language—in a way that makes us understand and respond. O that we would quit waiting for the ascended Jesus to come back, pick up our mantles and follow where the Spirit leads us. O that rather than complain that no one comes to church we would give them reasons to come to church. O that we would proclaim the gospel not just with our lips, but with our lives. For that is the empowerment of Pentecost—to send us into the world proclaiming and living out the Gospel. It's what the disciples did, and it's what we are called to do.

The story is told of Fritz Kreisler (1875-1962), the world-famous violinist, who earned a fortune with his concerts and compositions, but he generously gave most of it away. So, when he discovered an exquisite violin on one of his trips, he wasn't able to buy it. Later, having raised enough money to meet the asking price, he returned to the seller, hoping to purchase that beautiful instrument. But to his great dismay it had been sold to a collector. Kreisler made his way to the new owner's home and offered to buy the violin. The collector said it had become his prized possession and he would not sell it. Keenly disappointed, Kreisler was about to leave when he had an idea. "Could I play the instrument once more before it is consigned to silence?" he asked. Permission was granted, and the great virtuoso filled the room with such heart-moving music that the collector's emotions were deeply stirred. "I have no right to keep that to myself," he exclaimed. "It's yours, Mr. Kreisler. Take it into the world, and let people hear it."

The good news is not ours to keep, but to share. As the old hymn says:

I love to tell the story, more wonderful it seems

than all the golden fancies, of all our golden dreams.

I love to tell the story, 'tis pleasant to repeat,

what seems each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.

And when in scenes of glory, I sing the new new song,

it will be the old old story, that I have loved so long.

Let us tear down the barriers and tell the story: long, loud, and often. AMEN.

ga

my sermon for May 6th 2012

WHO BELONGS?

Acts 8:26-40

Easter 5, May 6, 2012

Hope UMC

In 1983, when the compilers of the Common Lectionary assigned this text for today, they had no way of knowing just how appropriate it would be in light of the United Methodist General Conference gathering in Tampa this week. While the delegates struggle with questions of reorganization and whether clergy should be guaranteed appointments, they also, once again, found themselves embroiled in a debate over the place, if any, of gays and lesbians in the church. For many years it seemed clear, based on such passages as Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 (which requires not only that gays be banned, but stoned to death—are you ready for that? I'm not) it seemed clear that there was no such place. And, in the First Century, as the persecuted church moved into the world, it was clear that there was no such place for gentiles and other groups.

God's angel spoke to Philip: "At noon today I want you to walk over to that desolate road that goes from Jerusalem down to Gaza." He got up and went. He met an Ethiopian eunuch coming down the road. The eunuch had been on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and was returning to Ethiopia, where he was minister in charge of all the finances of Candace, queen of the Ethiopians. He was riding in a chariot and reading the prophet Isaiah. [Acts 8:26-28 the Message] As he ran along beside the chariot, Philip heard the Ethiopian reading from the scroll of Isaiah; he asked the official if he understood what he was reading. The Ethiopian answered: “No, I need help.” and invited Philip into the chariot. The Ethiopian was reading Isaiah's description of the suffering and death of God's servant. “Who is the prophet writing about? The Ethiopian wanted to know; Was Isaiah speaking of himself, or of someone else.

And so Philip launched into the story of Jesus. (Act 8:36) As they traveled down the road, they came to a place where there was some water, and the official said, "Here is some water. What is to keep me from being baptized?"

What is to keep me from being baptized? Well, to start with, the Ethiopian is a gentile, and, at this point, the Christian church only existed within Judaism. And then there's the matter of his gender, or lack thereof. The Ethiopian was a eunuch, and “1 No eunuch is to enter the congregation of God.” [Du. 23:1 the Message] It's about as plain and clear as one can get. Philip's response was quick and easy: “They both went down to the water, and Philip baptized him on the spot.” [Acts 8:38 the Message]

Nowhere in the scriptures of his day did Philip find authority to baptize one who, according to the law, could not be part of the congregation. No apostolic pronouncement allowed such a thing. Philip acted strictly on his own authority and that of the Holy Spirit. And amazingly enough the church didn't split: there was no mass exodus of angry members; there were no charges brought or threatened; the church simply continued to grow, and grow, and grow. Which leads me to think it may just be time for us to again consider what it means to be a part of the church, and who has a part and place in the church.

In 1939, when the Methodist Church, The Methodist Church South, and the Protestant Methodist Church reunited, the knottiest issue was the place of African Americans in the Methodist Church. It issue was decided by the creation of a non-geographical Central Jurisdiction for those congregations—in short, black Methodists were a church within a church, with the appearance of equality but the reality of segregation. This dreadful miscarriage of Christianity remained until 1968 and he union of the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren formed our United Methodist Church. During the union talks, the EUB's, God Bless them, made it clear that no union would occur unless the Central Jurisdiction was dissolved and African American Methodists became,in all ways, equal to other United Methodists. There would be no discrimination in the new denomination.

And then came the demands of the gay and lesbian community for an equal place in society. For hundreds of years they had been the target of violent oppression and open discrimination. Gay bars and gathering places were raided regularly, and homosexuality was declared illegal in many states. It was time, members of the community and their supporters said, for gays to be a part of society, too. And society meant the church. Gay denominations had been formed, but gays were pretty much out of place in most Christian churches—and the more they sought inclusion, the more strident the voices of exclusion became. And this past week the United Methodist Church proclaimed that we can no longer even agree to disagree.

Like many people, Christian and unchristian, around the world, I have struggled with this issue. I have dear friends on both sides of the aisle; I have dear friends who are gay or lesbian, and dear friends who are straight. For most of my pastoral career I have been in agreement with the church's position that all persons are of sacred worth, but that homosexuals should not be ordained or appointed to the churches.

And Phillip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him. Speaking only for myself, and only for myself, I think it's time for me to give serious consideration to who has a place in the church, and what that place may be. I don't know if I will ever change my mind, I only pray that I can keep my mind and my heart both open—open to the voice of others; open to the voice of the Spirit; and open to the voice of Jesus who has set this table. This table is prepared not just for us, but for all those whose place is in the church—even those we may not think have a place in the church. The Lord who died to provide this meal, died not just for me, for you, but for all of humanity. This is a celebration for and of all God's people. Come, join the party. AMEN.

For Mother's Day this Sunday, I offer my congregation these memories.

MY THREE MOMS

Mother's Day, 2012

Hope UMC

I am one of the lucky ones. I have been blessed with three mothers in my life. Not only did I have my biological mother who reared me and loved me for her entire life, and I was further blessed with an equally loving mother in law whom you also knew. You've heard stories about both of these remarkable women, whom I love and miss. But I don't believe I've ever told you about my third Mom, Margaret. I have told you about her husband, Roger Adams, the Baptist pastor who was one of the folks responsible for my answering my ministry call; Margaret was his wife. Margaret Adams was the quintessential 1950's and 60's pastor's wife. She played the piano, sang in the choir, and did all the things expected of a pastor's wife in that era. But the most important thing Margaret did was to extend the love of her Lord, Jesus, to everyone with whom she came in contact. It didn't matter if you were trying to see her a vacuum cleaner, or were a lonely GI a long way from home: you were welcome in Margret’s home. For Fay and I, both while we were dating and after we were married, that home became a haven.

Margaret was a musician, a cook, a seamstress, and a spotless housekeeper. Cleanliness was clearly next to Godliness at the Adams household. When the dishes were washed it wasn't enough to rinse them in hot water—they were to be scalded with boiling water from the teapot. Once, when I needed all the insignia sewn on a new set of fatigues, Fay and I went to the Adam's so Fay could borrow a sewing machine. Margaret quickly took over the operation and my uniform was ready just in time for us to join the family for dinner. Those dinners were wonderful occasions, not just because the food was good, but because of the love with which it was shared. It was a table covered with joy and laughter. Especially the time one of her daughters made tacos for the family. Margaret had no idea how to eat such a contraption, and when she was shown how to tilt her head and eat it she said: “They're won't be too many tacos served around here.”

As a pastor's wife, Margaret learned frugality. On one of our first visits, Fay commented that all the furniture had been painted black. “When your a pastor's family.” Margaret said. “You learn to be economical. Some of the parsonages we lived in were partly furnished, and I found that by painting my furniture black it matched everything, wherever we were. On another occasion, her 6 year old granddaughter said: “Grandma, what a pretty dress you have on! What garage sale did you get it at?”

It would be accurate to say that Margaret was a bit too conservative to be comfortable with the social unrest of the 1960's. I remember well the time when Fay, Peggy (Margret’s daughter) her fiance, Ken, and I were at their home watching the Pink Panther on TV. Margaret found the movie a bit to risque', and kept insisting we come into the kitchen for ice cream, or to play Monopoly, anything but watch that dirty movie!

Like all good mother's, Margaret could embarrass me from time to time; though seldom intentionally. One day Fay sent me to the Adams' home with a plate of fresh baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies—the ones my mother used to make. Of course Margaret just had to have the recipe,even after I explained to her that it was a secret family recipe that Fay was given by my mother. “Well I'm going to ask her, anyway.” Margaret said picking up the phone. “Yes. OK. I understand” she said and hung up. “Fay said the recipe is on the oatmeal box.” And, while Margaret never mentioned it again, Fay has made sure I will never live it down.

Margaret was about family—not just her husband and children, but the extended family that included who knows how many like Fay and I. She loved us all, kept track of us and stayed in touch as best she could. In her journal she wrote reams of poetry about her love of Jesus and her family.

One night, after a long, involved, and fun theological discussion it was Margaret who asked if I had ever considered the ministry. I recall giving her a rather blank look and wondering what just planet she was from. But she clearly recognized something in me that I had not yet seen in myself. Years later, when we stopped to see the Adams' on our way home from my first year in seminary, she was thrilled that I had finally answered the call she has seen so long ago.

Unlike so many folks who compartmentalize their life and faith, Margret’s faith in and love of Christ was part and parcel of who she was. She could not even imagine a Sunday without church or a day that didn't start and end with prayer. She clung fiercely to (Rom 8:28) “We know that in all things God works for good with those who love him, those whom he has called according to his purpose.” When her husband was taken by ambulance the the ER and they were in the third of 5 days without insurance she told the hospital: “I don't know how, but you will be paid.” Many was the time Fay and I arrived at her home to meet with Peggy and hear Margret's beautiful voice singing hymns as she went about her work. As a child, Margaret was adopted twice. It was her second adopted father who made sure she had voice lessons. As a young woman she had her own radio show, singing in Cincinnati. She was offered a contract in LA, but not wanting to be a part of that lifestyle chose instead to enroll in the Baptist Missionary Training School in Chicago where she met her seminary-student future husband. Even inn her last years, as she descended into dementia, Margaret continued here witness. When Peggy asked one of the nurses din the care center where Margaret lived how they kept her calm. She was told “we ask her to sing a hymn, and that always calms her down. In December of 2008, at the age of 97, my third Mom finally went to be with Jesus. And on this Mother's day I miss her: but I rejoice knowing that I'll see here again, when we meet at Jesus' feet. See you then, my thee moms!

This was my sermon for Palm-Passion Sunday, April 1.  Before reading this, you need to know that I passed out toothbrushes instead of palms for the folks to wave as we processed into the sanctuary.

Company's Coming

Palm/Passion Sunday, 2012

Mark 11:1-14

How many of you have been "April Fooled" already today?

Did you get salt out of the sugar bowl for your coffee or cereal? Did the lids to the pepper and salt shakers fall completely off with the first shake?

Were all your shirt sleeves turned inside out?

Good April Fool jokes and pranks are supposed to strike out at our routines, shake up our perceptions, make something ordinary odd and extraordinary. Which brings us to the toothbrushes. You were probably expecting the palm crosses that we usually wave—but why toothbrushes?

Palm Sunday remembers Jesus' being welcomed into Jerusalem. It's about honoring the King. Company's coming and the people want to welcome him.

Company's coming. I don't know how it is in your house, but when we know company's coming we do three things. Clean the house, set the table, and finally shower, change into nice clothes, comb our hair (well, Fay does) and brush our teeth so we look and smell nice for our guests. Why? Because we want them to feel welcome. Because we want to honor their presence with us. That's why the palms: that's why the toothbrushes.

Toothbrushes are handy for a lot more than brushing our teeth. Some of you may have used them to clean the tile grout in your bathroom or kitchen. I find them handy for cleaning around the faucet, for cleaning my electric razor, and even when shining my shoes. In the Air Force we used to joke about cleaning the runway with a toothbrush when some big mucky muck was coming. As Jesus rides into Jerusalem, he also rides into our hearts, and into our lives. Like cleaning the house for company, Lent is a time for cleansing our lives as we prepare to welcome the risen Christ. Fasting, alms giving, prayer, meditation, and confession cleanse our hearts and prepare our souls for the coming King.

Shortly after we were married, Fay and I visited her grandmother and a whole bunch of cousins in Oklahoma. When one of her aunts answered the door she exclaimed: “If I’d known you was comin', I woulda baked a cake.” There is probably no greater act of hospitality than sharing food, breaking bread together. When we share a meal, we share the building blocks of life, itself—we share the stuff of which we are made; we share life. That's why we set out the best table linens, the fine china, the good silver, and the crystal. To share not only life with our guests, but to share the best we have to offer. The Lenten call to alms giving is a call to share the best we have with Jesus and with others.

When we are expecting company, we want not only the house, but ourselves, to look good—so the last thing we do before the doorbell rings is to wash our face, comb our hair and brush our teeth. Our attention to our appearance honors our guests.

As Jesus entered Jerusalem on a borrowed donkey, his disciples honored him by laying their coats on the ground in front of the donkey. The crowds joined in, covering the road with branches and shouting “Hosanna” “Save we pray!” “Blessed, happy, is the one who comes in God's name.” They honored Jesus and recognized him as the messiah, the one who will restore the kingdom of David. It was a joyous time, but it was not to last.

An old proverb states that in three days guests and fish grow smelly. Sometime between the Palms and the Passover the crowds changed. This is not unusual. Even the most popular and charismatic who challenge the status quo, find their popularity soon wanes. Noted historian Gene Smith, in his book "When The Cheering Stopped,” tells the story of President Woodrow Wilson and the events leading up to and following WWI. When that war was over Wilson was an international hero. There was a great spirit of optimism abroad, and people actually believed that the last war had been fought and the world had been made safe for democracy. On his first visit to Paris after the war Wilson was greeted by cheering mobs. He was actually more popular than their own heroes. The same thing was true in England and Italy. In a Vienna hospital a Red Cross worker had to tell the children that there would be no Christmas presents because of the war and the hard times. The children didn’t believe her. They said that President Wilson was coming and they knew that everything would be all right. The cheering lasted about a year. Then it gradually began to stop. It turned out that the political leaders in Europe were more concerned with their own agendas than they were a lasting peace. At home, Woodrow Wilson ran into opposition in the United States Senate and his League of Nations was not ratified. Under the strain of it all the President’s health began to break. In the next election his party was defeated. So it was that Woodrow Wilson, a man who barely a year or two earlier had been heralded as the new world Messiah, came to the end of his days a broken and defeated man.

Only a few days after entering Jerusalem to the accolades of the crowd, Jesus found himself again in front of the crowd. But this time, instead of shouting “hosanna!” they shouted “Crucify!” And of all those present, only Jesus understood that the kingdom he would usher in would come only through his suffering, death and resurrection. Let us remember the passion as we stand and sing together #288, Were You There? AMEN.