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To Risk a “Hosanna!”
March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

To Risk a “Hosanna!”

The Rev. Jennifer L. Adams – March 24, 2013- Palm Sunday

One of the challenges of this service is how quickly we move from one story to the next.  We move from shouts of “Hossana!” to shouts of “Crucify him!” in a matter of minutes and I know that by now there are more than a few heads spinning out there, not to mention hearts.  We shifted from a celebration to a trial, and from a parade to an execution in less than one half hour.  And so I want us to slow us down a little; and I want to help us back up a little.  Because I think the story we heard before we even entered the church is important too.  And I don’t want us to lose it.  Now I promise that will preach on the crucifixion this week; we have a whole day and an entire service dedicated to that whole piece of story –  on Friday, so you’ll hear more about that then.

But for now, back to the “Hosanna.”  The reason I think that story is so very important has to do with the hope that was being expressed in the people’s cries.  Think of everything they brought to that day.  They had been witnesses to the breaking in of a kingdom – blind people had been given sight.  Loaves and fish had been multiplied.  Captives of sin and oppression had been set free.  And in this gospel a child had even been raised from the dead.  These people were beginning to put the pieces together and starting to believe that this man, Jesus, was the Messiah, the one for whom their people had longed.  And so they lined the streets leading into Jerusalem.  They spread their cloaks and they waved their palms and they shouted “Hosanna to the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

And that hope is something that I don’t want us to miss out on this morning.  Now we know that they were a little off in the specifics of how this was all going to play out, but that’s OK.  Besides the point of Palm Sunday is not that “there was this group of people whose hopes were ultimately dashed.”  I think that hearing these stories the way we do on Palm Sunday (moving so quickly from the triumphal entry to the cross) potentially conveys that message.  We tend to get a sense that they were excited and then they were devastated.  Period.  And while there’s an element of that trajectory here, that’s not really the point.  Because this isn’t a story about losing hope.  It’s a story about discovering a hope the magnitude of which, and the method of which, nobody had even imagined possible.

This is a story about hope beyond hope where the Palm Sunday people were on to something, based on the teaching they had received and the faith that had been kept alive among them.  They knew what they were looking for – the actions, the qualities, the challenges and the healings that would be the kingdom of God.  And so before there even was a resurrection to lean into, these people helped open that door of hope for themselves and for others – they not only witnessed the good news Jesus, they shared it and they helped others believe that the coming of the Messiah was playing out right before their eyes.   The beauty of the people of Palm Sunday was that they trusted that salvation was coming to them, and because they proclaimed that faith and because they shouted it out and waved their palms, there were a whole lot of people watching just to see what it was that God would do and how God would do it.

And so I want to give them credit today in a way that we don’t always manage to.  These were the people who kept the door of hope open – and given that Jesus life was at risk, theirs was too.  This wasn’t just a holiday parade remember – they were cheering on the one whom the religious authorities were already seeking out to arrest and kill.  And so by publically hoping, they were also publically risking in all kinds of directions. Risking not only their own disappointment but their own arrest and even their lives.

Now keeping that door open is our job too.  And the stakes are almost always lower than that for us – so we have no excuses for not doing it.  And truth be told, we are called on to do it all the time.  Prior to death – either ours or someone we know and love – we are called to witness to something we have not yet seen fully seen, something we have not yet fully grasped, something of God that we believe is at work among us whose details are beyond us.  We are called to do it when we stand up in our church or our community for something we believe is of the Christ.  Feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, protecting the particularly vulnerable in our world.  The pattern is the same – just like the Palms Sunday people, we have seen healing happen, we know that loaves can be multiplied, we believe that something more than what we see is possible and so we wave palms and shout Hossana! and cheer on the Body of Christ as that Body rides on not necessarily in majesty but certainly in hope.

As a people of faith we must always be willing to risk a “Hosanna! or two, or two hundred, or more.  May it be our feet, our hands, our bodies,our stories that prop the door of hope open knowing that ultimately hopes are not dashed through the gospel; they are transformed by a God who rolls away the stone and opens the doors forever.

Amen.

Friending the Messiah
March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

Friending the Messiah

The Rev. Jennifer L. Adams – March 17, 2013 – Lent 5C : John 12: 1-8

Out of all of the families in the Bible, it’s the one that we heard about in today’s gospel that fascinates me the most.  And there some truly fascinating families in the Bible, let me tell you, so to gain the rank of ‘most fascinating’ is actually saying a lot!  This is Lazarus and Mary and Martha all of whom played key roles in the gospels and were very close friends of Jesus.  Mary and Martha were present in the gospel of Luke.  And in John’s gospel, which we heard from today, we get all three of the siblings, and they were referred to in John as “Jesus’ friends.”

Note that they weren’t called “disciples” although to the extent that these people had obviously listened to Jesus’ teaching, followed him and learned from him, they were certainly disciples in the basic sense of that word.  But these three weren’t “just followers” – we’re actually given the impression that these were Jesus’ closest people, practically family. He visited them somewhat regularly, stayed in touch with them while he traveled to other towns – they sent him notice when Lazarus was near death – and Jesus even “wept” with Mary and Martha in their shared grief over Lazarus’ death.  So these were the people who really walked with Jesus, or maybe better put is that Jesus walked with them  – as friends.  And what fascinates me, and is most relevant to us is how they did it, how these three walked their walk.

But first a few snapshots from their family album in a gospel mash-up of sorts.

There was that time in the gospel of Luke when Jesus visited Martha and Mary. At one point during that visit, Mary was sitting, listening to Jesus and taking in his teaching and then Martha (in typical sibling fashion) came out from the kitchen to complain that Mary wasn’t helping her fix supper.  Jesus replied that what Mary was doing was important too and he told Martha that her doing could actually be a distraction if she wasn’t careful. Jesus’ message to his friends that day was to remind Martha that she could stop every now and then to listen and to learn and very simply, be present.  And in that message he allowed Mary to value the listening she did, a listening and learning that society at that time didn’t generally afford to women.

Then there was the time in John’s gospel just before the story we heard today when Jesus got word when he was out on the road that his friend Lazarus was ill.  And after hearing of his friend’s illness, Jesus changed course, and headed to Bethany where his friends lived.  But before he arrived, Lazarus died and when they got that news Jesus indicated to his disciples that that was OK, the story wasn’t over yet – and so they kept walking.  And as Jesus was approaching the town, Martha saw him and ran out to meet him and by the end of their conversation she had proclaimed him the Messiah.  Mary came out shortly thereafter and they all wept, the only time it’s reported that Jesus actually cried in a shared sort of deep grief.  Then Jesus went with them to Lazarus grave and even though Lazarus had been dead for four days, Jesus told the people to roll away the stone, and he shouted to Lazarus to come out. To the astonishment of everyone present (everyone but Jesus – and I think Mary and Martha were on to it too), Lazarus did come out and they unbound him. Lazarus, previously completely dead, was alive and free again.  And that story of the raising of Lazarus became the turning point in John because after that moment, the religious authorities sought to bring Jesus to trial, and ultimately to his own death.

Which makes today’s story a last supper of sorts because Jesus and his friends knew that he was soon to be arrested.  John described the scene this way, “Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served [of course] and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”

Judas then complained that Mary had “wasted the perfume” and Jesus responded that the whole action was Mary’s loving acknowledgement that he was to die. Her pouring of the perfume was also more than that; anointing Jesus was symbolically (as Martha had done in the story before,) proclaiming Jesus to be the Messiah.  And that meaning would have been lost on no one who saw it happen.  Shortly after this visit, Jesus was arrested.  (Come back next week to hear more about all of that.)

So this family had many amazing stories to tell and each member had a particular way in which they friended Jesus. And how they did that friending was remarkably consistent in all of these stories – even though they crossed over gospels. Martha was “The Do-er,” preparing, cooking, greeting, serving, proclaiming.  Lazarus for his part was “The Resurrected,” the one who was willing to leave the tomb, get unbound, and who was from that day of new life on was a celebrity of sorts.  He would for the rest of his new life be known as “that guy whom Jesus raised from the dead.” And the gospel indicates that Lazarus was in constant risk because of the power that his life represented.  And then there was Mary who was the “Gentle Prophet” whose role was to listen, to learn, to weep, and eventually to pour out in abundant, fragrant fashion a prophetic proclamation of who Jesus was for the world.

And so now you know why they fascinate me.  They were the friends, and they friended in beautiful and important ways. And so they’re not only a fascination, they also represent the kind of people I want us to be. We talk a lot around here in terms of “church family” and while there are pros and some cons to using that language to describe us, I think that we should hold up this family as one of the models for us as Church. We need to be doers like Martha.  We need to prepare, to feed, and to serve.  Like Martha, we need to learn better when to be still and also be willing to run out to the road when the Christ is approaching us in order to greet and welcome and embrace.  And we need to be those people “whom Jesus raised from the dead;” like Lazarus, we need to risk our own getting unbound and stepping away from the tomb and returning to life speaking in our very presence the power of resurrection!  And finally we need to embrace the kinds of learning and the types of tears that lead us, like Mary to prophetic, abundant proclamations that the Kingdom of God has come near.

So, you Marthas, Lazaruses, and Marys of Grace – you the family that is Grace Church – the Christ is here at our table today.  You already baked the bread – so nobody run to the kitchen.  The wine is here, so settle in.  Tell your stories. Unbind.  Embrace the new life being given you and let God bless it all.  And then in abundant thanks may we anoint with the gifts given us, the Body given for the world God so loved.      Amen.

What God Does
March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

What God Does

The Rev. Jennifer L. Adams – March 3, 2013 –  Lent 3C: Luke 13:1-9

 This morning’s sermon is all about God, who God is, what God does.  It’s important for us to always be asking what we should be doing in response to God, but I think that, ironically, sometimes we can actually forget about God by getting overly immersed in our own doing, our own responses to the holy.  Even in our talks about forgiveness this Lent we’ve occasionally fallen into the trap of actually overemphasizing our own role in that process; we need to allow at least some room for God’s doing in the holy project that is redemption. So here are a few minutes in which our doing is certainly invited in, but can take a back seat. Let’s make room for God and focus in on the one who creates, redeems, and sanctifies.

First is the story from Exodus.  Moses was going about his everyday work tending the flock of his Father in Law, Jethro and he had taken the flock beyond the wilderness, to Mt Horeb.  Now this was already a holy place for Moses’ people, but on that particular day it was a little holier than usual. An angel of the Lord appeared to Moses in the flames of a burning bush and then God spoke to Moses out of the flame. And the first thing God did, once Moses had taken off his shoes and established the presence of holy ground, the first thing God did was to introduce and identify himself, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob. I am the one to whom you and your people pray,” God told Moses, “The One who created you and has been with you since the very beginning.”  And then God told Moses why He has was there and why He was there then.  God was there on that mountain, at that particular moment out of divine compassion and mercy, and those were God’s only reasons.  “I have observed the misery of my people” God told Moses, “I have heard their cries. . .Indeed I know their sufferings and I have come to deliver them.”  So here we get a wonderful glimpse of what God actually does:  First, God listens.  “I have heard their cries,” God told Moses.  And then God responds to the people with compassion and mercy in order to deliver them.  And notice how God then proceeds:  God doesn’t respond by picking up the people and plunking them down right that moment in the land of milk and honey.  God’s response is intimately bound up with the work of the people.

In this story, and really in just about every story in Scripture, God invites the people into their redemptive process; it’s always grace sure enough but it’s often participatory grace and so our response to the holy matters, it just can’t take over.  With the Israelites, God planted a new vision and made room for the people to step out into the wilderness with Moses.  And then God held up his end of the deal the whole way, providing signs, parting the waters, setting the desert tables with manna every morning. . . So, God listened. God responded with compassion and mercy, God invited participation and over the course of God’s time, with God’s help, a new reality came into being.

In the Psalm, we hear of God beautifully as the one who helps and upholds.  The psalmist proclaims, “O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you;  Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. . . for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”  There’s that divine compassion and mercy stuff again.  And this psalm gives us a glimpse of God on a more intimate level – helping and upholding not an entire people but one person, through one person’s prayer.  But notice that while micro instead of macro in scale, God’s process is absolutely consistent with that in Exodus:  God listens, then God responds, then God helps and a new reality (in this case for each person) is allowed to come in to being.

Now the people that Jesus was addressing in the gospel were sure that there must be a formula behind this divine mercy. They figured that there must be some connection between the presence of human suffering and the mercy which seemed to be God’s response to it.  We know that formula too.  No matter how theologically mature we are, it probably lurks somewhere inside of each of us and it goes like this:  “Bad people experience bad things. Good people get good things.”  Or this, “Good people deserve forgiveness and get it.  Bad people don’t deserve it and shouldn’t get it.” Well, today’s gospel story turns that theology on its head as Jesus does a little clarifying regarding the workings of God.

The people to whom Jesus was speaking were sure that suffering of any kind was the direct result of individual sin, “That’s why the bad things happened to those particular Galileans,” they told Jesus. “And that’s why the tower of Siloam fell on those particular people.  It was all because they were worse sinners than any else.”  And while that might make logical sense, if we hear anything in Scripture it’s that human logic is not the basis for the workings of God.  “Any of those tragedies could happen to any of you,” he told them. “What you’ve been given is a choice about how to live in the midst of it all.”

Notice similarly that in the story from Exodus, deliverance from slavery had nothing to do with the sinfulness or sinlessness of the people; the bad guys who were slaves and the good-guys who were slaves were all offered the same opportunity for a new life.  There was no exam prior to the parting of the waters to see whether or not the people “deserved” deliverance or not.  They had a choice granted them by God, a choice about whether or not to drop the chains, pick up their sandals and hike across the waters.  Or to remain in slavery. God had responded with mercy and compassion to their cries, not to their purity or their goodness.  And in the psalm that basis for response is there too: mercy was assumed as something God would grant whoever placed their trust in Him – there was no prerequisite to that promise: presumably, the rich, the poor, the slave, the free, the good guy, the jerk, were and are all offered this gift of God’s help and God’s peace.  And that’s what Jesus was telling the people in the parable we heard today.

In so many ways it makes way more sense to cut down trees that aren’t producing fruit or even worse, whose fruit has gone bad.  But the Gardner in that parable, the God in that parable, took an entirely different approach.  “Let’s dig around it,” the Gardner said, “Let’s open it up and air out the roots a little bit.  Let’s help it breathe, feed it, care for it and see what happens.”  And if you’ve been listening that rings bell.  “Let’s dig out the people and set them free.”  “Let’s ask them to bear new fruit and walk into a whole new place.” “Let’s help and uphold rather than strike down.”  It might all sound completely illogical, even a little crazy, but apparently holiness is.

And so if you are the one who longs for more freedom in this world, waiting for the waters to part, know that they will; we’ve all been invited to stand up, to move to a new place where there is freedom for all.  Or maybe you’re out in the wilderness hungry for milk and honey. Know that God will provide and we’ve all been called to prepare and participate in that feast. If you’re like the psalmist and you’re praying a private prayer for help, know that it has been granted you. Help is on the way; it might even already be there.  Or if you are that tree whose fruit seems non-existent or a little stale, there are shovels here and God has taught us how to use them.  We can help provide the air and even the manure (kind of fun to have that in the story), and somehow because God is God, we be be led to new life.

So today we thank God for being God.  For listening.  For responding with mercy and compassion.  For delivering and upholding.  And for inviting us into new ways of being that ultimately reveal a holy and resurrection-like sense of peace.

Amen.

What If?
March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

What If?

Rev. Jennifer L. Adams – February 18, 2013- Lent 1C: Luke 6:27-38

I am just back from a couple of days in Baltimore working with the National Church Task Force on Restructuring the Church.  Now I realize that for some people conversations about structure, governance, and administration (let alone the church’s version of those things) might sound like a wilderness of sorts, a dangerous, dry desert perhaps even filled with wild beasts lurking at every turn. But my days were nothing like that. They were actually very rich – filled with incredibly good people, very creative thinking and faithful prayer.  More like a garden than a desert actually.  But my thoughts upon leaving that meeting and transitioning back to Lent I were about this passage – just not in terms of having been in the wilderness.  Instead, I’ve been considering how much easier these challenges facing our church would be, how much easier life would be if Jesus had done what Satan had tempted him to do.

What if Jesus had said, “Yes,” instead of “No” to everything that Satan offered him? Let’s go there for a few minutes and see how that might have played out. . .

You know the scene.  Jesus was just baptized and was driven by the Spirit out into the wilderness for forty days and forty nights.  And while he was the there, the devil tempted Him three times: “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread,” the devil said to Jesus.  So what if instead of ‘One does not live by bread alone,’ Jesus had said something like, “OK, great! And while I am at it, I’ll take it upon myself to make sure that there is enough bread for everyone, always.” Sounds great – doesn’t it? If Jesus had taken that opportunity maybe there’d be no more distance between the haves and have nots in this world – everyone would have all the bread they need and we could take questions of how best to distribute our resources completely off the table.

Or how about this, to Satan’s offer of all of the kingdoms of the world in exchange for Jesus worshiping him. . .what if instead of ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him,’ Jesus had said something like, “Sure, Satan, I’ll take’m. I’ll rule over all of it, worshiping you and ruling with authority, power, clarity.” In some ways that wouldn’t be all bad – No more wrestling with questions about how best to govern and organize ourselves – all of that would be completely taken care of. No more human error at the helm. No more human at the helm at all – at least no “merely and only human.”  Not all bad!

And finally what if Jesus had taken the leap off the pinnacle of the temple and been caught by the angels, thereby employing the heavenly beings in the constant business of making sure no physical harm could be done?  Again, that’s attractive in some ways – No more hurts to tend to, no more lives dashed against the stones of this world –  Because Jesus (as ruler of the kingdoms of the world and provider of bread and other things for all people) would have also put the angels to the work of protecting us all from getting dashed in any way.  And so instead of a cross as our primary symbol, maybe there would be something up there like a pair of wings.


But as tempting as all of that was and as it still is, Jesus resisted all of those offers – he resisted the temptation to depend on magic as a response to human need; he turned down the offer to wield worldy power as a means to holy rule, and he turned down the temptation of his own personal protection and assurance against death.  And by doing so, he set another sort of vision in motion for humanity.  And that vision is what this season is all about.

It’s the vision of a God who instead of going for a quick fix entered into the realm of human pain and suffering and offered us all a different way to be in this world.  And by this way, God is not the sole provider of bread – or at least the sole distributor of bread – we’re in that business too – our hearts and hands are needed in the work of getting it to all who hunger.  And by this way, God has not fully instituted rule over all of the kingdoms of the world; the vision involves us participating in the building of that kingdom, the ordering of this world in ways that are fair and just and embracing of all children of God.  And finally this way that Jesus opened up is not one that relies on self-protection, instead it’s one that calls for self-sacrifice in the best sense of what that means – and so ultimately, in this story, our understanding of salvation revolves not around wings but around the image of a cross and through God’s grace, an empty tomb.

In some ways what Jesus did in the wilderness over those forty days and forty nights was that he left the world exactly as it stood.  Given the option of supply on demand, complete and utter rule, and immortality Jesus let the stones be stones, left the kingdoms of the world to the people of the world, and worked his way toward his own death.   And I think that’s because Jesus didn’t come into the world to take it over.  Jesus came into the world very simply and unconditionally to love the world.  He came not to fix, but to transform through the most powerful means God could employ.

And so this season, listen to how Jesus loves us.  Sounds like a song, right?  This season notice the “how” of Jesus going about his work in this world because that “how” is for us to adopt too.  It’s how we live into the vision, the way that Jesus offered us.  The governance of the church let alone the world won’t completely change this season, we will still struggle to get bread into the hands of all people, and we will encounter hurt as we do the self-giving, sacrificial things we have been called to do.  But notice that in all of it, love can break through, offering a new way that involves forgiveness, redemption, a cross, and resurrection.

May we give thanks as we walk through this season, that Jesus resisted and showed us another way.

Amen.

 

Re-Becoming God’s People
March 25, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

Re-Becoming God’s People

Rev. Jennifer L. Adams – January 27, 2013 – Epiphany 3C- Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10 1; Corinthians 12:12-31a; Luke 4:14-21

 Well in terms of readings, we hit the jackpot for Annual Meeting Sunday.  A preacher couldn’t ask for better texts to be proclaimed among the people on the day in which we will reflect on what the people have been doing, look forward to where the people are headed, discuss how those people (we) might get there, and discern from among us about who will lead us in this next year of life together as Grace Church.  The readings remind us of many things, all of which should be running through our hearts and minds today: they hold up for us the power of Story itself, the love of God that invites us to make it ours, the Spirit of God who is present with prophets and assemblies and was profoundly present with the Christ, and there is even reference to the Body which we become in order to share that power, that love and serve the world in Christ’s name.  It’s all here!  And I personally am very grateful.  So let’s dive into it all together.

First from Nehemiah. Ezra the priest stood on a wooden platform with a whole bunch of other scribes surrounding him in the midst of a very large crowd.  He opened the book in the sight of all the people, and the whole crowd stood too.  They knew that something holy was happening, something that carried a certain authority and that was vital to their faith was unfolding among them.  “The ears of all the people were attentive,” the book says. So there was energy and a certain kind of hunger among them.  And when Ezra read from the law of God, and the people and the other scribes and priests began to interpret it together (notice that – they interpreted it together) – something amazing happened.  They were no longer just a crowd in the plaza.  They cried, and they rejoiced, and Ezra and Nehemiah (who was the governor) said to the people that they should go and feast: “Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and remember to give some to those who have nothing, for this day is holy!” he cried out.

The day was holy because the people were again, profoundly aware of being God’s people – each and every one of them, re-united, re-formed (small “r”), newly re-present to the Story that had been given them. And so the Story itself was more than “just” words – it was salvation – and it  was announcing that liberation, and forgiveness and was hope coming to life again in and among these people of God.

What we have in this first reading is actually a powerful vision of liturgy (the language we use for worship) – this was literally “the work of the people” in the presence of the Spirit and a reminder of the power and grace that can happen when all of that comes together.

Sound familiar?  It should.  It should be very familiar. Because before Grace can reflect on where we’ve been, before we can vision about where we’re headed, before we are a vital, growing community of ministers and ministries, before we are anything we are this:

We are a crowd.

We are a crowd that becomes a people.

We are a crowd that becomes a people in the presence of the Word, through the power of the Spirit.

We are a crowd that become a people in the presence of the Word, through the power of the Spirit and the celebration of the feast.

And then we share those gifts with the world beyond ourselves.

That’s who we are.  So thanks, Nehemiah, for that reminder.

Now it’s not a very big leap from that passage to the gospel. There is liturgy again in Luke, but in this passage it was Jesus who read in the synagogue to remind the people of the power present among them.   This took place in Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown at the very beginning of his ministry.  Now Jesus (being Jesus,) took the whole proclamation thing a step beyond what Ezra was able to do.  Jesus read the passage and it sounded like this – you heard it just a few minutes ago:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And then Jesus, rather than sending the scribes forth for further conversation and reflection like Ezra did, instead Jesus followed that reading with the shortest, yet most powerful sermon ever, and he was already sitting down when he gave it. ‘This Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Period.  Or more appropriately, “Amen.”  And there followed a momentary and very deep silence – and next week you’ll hear how that all played out. But for now, we simply need to be aware of what all of that meant because Jesus was doing and saying something incredibly huge.

The passage that Jesus read would have been familiar to everyone in the synagogue because its message contained a central tenet of their faith.  “The year of the Lord’s favor” referred to the year of jubilee which according to religious law happened every fifty years; and in that year, as some describe it, “the playing fields were leveled,” the oppressed were set free, all debts were forgiven, and in essence many of the barriers and artificial stratifications that existed among the people of God were removed.  Every fifty years jubilee provided a “start over” sort of moment, a cleaning of the slates in order for the community, the society to be able to begin again in a more unified, more faithful sort of place.  And so jubilee was obviously an experience which was anticipated even longed for among most of the people.  And the law was very clear that it was to happen once every fifty years.

And so what Jesus said in the synagogue that day shook the very foundations not only of religious belief but also of the workings of that society. He announced that jubilee was no longer a year for which the people had to wait. Jubilee was here now in his presence!  Forgiveness and healing and basic human equalities were no longer about a “day to come,” Jesus told them. “Salvation is here,” he said, “the Scripture has been fulfilled!” And Jesus’ entire ministry would be about making all of those jubilee-like things happen every day, sometimes in surprising, miraculous sorts of ways.

And so this is us too.   While we reflect and elect and strategize and minister and pray. . . as we do all of these things as Grace, it’s critical that we do them always as a people of jubilee. This Scripture is to be fulfilled in our hearing and in our doing all the time.  Not as a vision that lives in the future but as a now that lives in here and out there as much as we can possibly make it be so.  The gospel tells us today that as Body of Christ we are to be a people among whom welcome is offered, equality is practiced, forgiveness is granted, food is shared, and healing is realized now.

So, as we gather for our Annual Meeting today, as we reflect and look forward and stand faithfully where we are, the foundation has been laid and the tone has been set:

May we be that crowd that desires to be formed into the people of God over and over again.  May we be that people of God among whom fulfillment of God’s dreams happens.  May we be the Body of Christ who in our very presence shocks the world proclaiming the kinds of possibilities that the Spirit makes into realities!  May we be that people who offer release to the captives, sight to those who cannot see, and hope for us all.  Every day.

Amen.

Christmas Eve, 2012
March 22, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

God Among

The Rev. Jennifer Adams- Christmas Eve 2012

The mountains and valleys,

the darkness and light,

the wilderness, the cities,

the oceans and the land.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

The young and the old.

The black and the white.

The Christian.  The Muslim. The Atheist.  The Jew.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

The hunger and abundance.

The music and silence.

The children.

The future.

The past. The now.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

The census.  The shepherds.

The inn with no room.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

The inexplicable acts of violence.

The unexpected acts of love.

The unjust systems and justifiable rebellions.

The divisions. The resistance. The freedoms.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

Your family and mine.  Us and them.

Schools. Politics. Nations.

Collective memory.

Particular stories.

Meals. Playgrounds. Worksites. Dreams.

This is the world into which God was born.

 

Into hurt.

Into hope.

Into emptiness and excess.

Into Mary’s arms and people’s lives.

This is the world into which God was born.

And God came into the world because we needed God here  –  we needed God’s presence in the midst of all of it.   I actually think it’s that simple; that first Christmas happened because we needed God present among –  to forgive, to invite, to heal, and to redeem.  We needed God here and so heard our cries and God came to be among us as us.

We heard it proclaimed as gospel just a few minutes ago: “While they were in Bethlehem, Mary gavw birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger.”

He came among us to live as us.

With eyes to see, hands to touch

and a heart to feel the complicated mess that we are.

And to experience the incredible, beautiful miracle that we are.

 

God came among us to witness and to challenge

the incomprehensible disparities among us

and to inspire the reconciliations possible between us.

 

God came among us

to heal those who were broken, to raise up the broken hearted.

To turn things upside down and to show us a new way.

 

A new way in which the poor, the meek, the peacemakers, and all those who mourn would be blessed.

God came to live among us because apparently in the mind of the divine

that was the best way to show us how to love one another,

and to forever bind us with an eternity that promises to love us all.

And so tonight is about remembering that and it’s about beginning again.

 

Beginning again to see the world as the place into which God has come and to see ourselves as forgiven, loved and free.  It’s a night to begin again to engage the healing, the raising up, the turning upside down and the blessing that was and is God’s dream for us all.

 

Tonight we celebrate Christ’s birth into this blessed, broken, beautiful world.  May we do love in his name here.  May we be peace as his Body here.

 

May Christ be born among us as we begin again this holy night.

Amen.

Dis-Comfort Ye My People
March 20, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

Dis-comfort Ye My People

The Rev.Jennifer Adams- December 9, 2012 – Advent 2, Year C: Luke 3:1-6

It’s a time of the year when the readings are as probably about as familiar as they get.  These are characters from Scripture that no matter what our faith background happens to be we’ve probably at least heard of and maybe even sung about or read about them. For two weeks now we’ll hear from John the Baptist and then we’ll get Mary and Elizabeth and –  so we are honing in on the people who were closest to Jesus as he was born and then as he began his public ministry.  These are the people who very intimately prepared the way for Christ to come into this world. So beginning this week we’ll be hearing a little more about what that preparation looked like and again we begin with John.

He was out in the wilderness shouting to the world ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord!’ and giving them a vision for what was going to happen: “Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked paths shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6and all flesh shall see the salvation of God!’” said John.  And in his proclamation he was echoing the words of the prophets before him. This morning we heard similar words from the prophet Baruch but they were said by other prophetic voices too:  “God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low, and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God.”  Now maybe you hear Handel’s Messiah playing through your mind as you hear all of this – the tenor’s voice expressing the exaltation of the valleys.  Or maybe you’re more the Godspell type and “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord!” and that music and vision of the Baptist flashes through you when we get to the Advent words of John and the prophets.  Whatever the case, the words and images are powerful and hopeful words and images that speak and sing to us about the coming of our God, about the work that God is doing and that we are to do in terms of preparation.

Now according to these passages, preparing involves some leveling of the ground so these are no small tasks.  The vision itself is significant.  Valleys should actually be filled in. Mountains should be made low.  Rough places made smooth.  And all for the simple reason of making it possible for everyone to travel “safely in the glory of God.”  Neither the earth nor we should make it hard for people to get to where they need to get be in order to see God, to know God, to experience the grace of God.  Part of the point of these passages is that the traveling should be safe and easy and relatively uneventful.

And so I want to share with you an experience I had yesterday because on a very small scale it spoke to me of this process and the possibilities we have to help this kind of leveling happen.  Now this experience wasn’t about the salvation of God, but it was about soccer and while I’d never ever compare the two, an awareness of God and a love of soccer are two things that have lived in my heart nearly my whole life.

Yesterday I watched the women’s national team play against China at Ford Stadium in Detroit.  The U.S. won (which isn’t the point of the story but I did get to watch two fabulous goals scored.)  They filled the stadium in sections with the upper tiers closed off – this wasn’t professional football afterall.  But towards the end of the game they announced that this was actually the largest attendance ever recorded  at a soccer game in Michigan.  Again – amazing if you’re me but still not quite the point of this story.  So here comes the point – to look around was to see a crowd composed in a very large part of little girls, teenagers and young women.  And they were dressed in jerseys whose backs said “Hamm” (Mia), or “Wambach” (Abby), or Morgan (Alex) – which was a loud and clear tribute to something like the communion of saints among soccer players.  And these girls were waving posters and they had their faces painted and they were shouting about players they admired and a game that they loved.  A game that they get to play all the time with no doubts about whether or not the game is for them.

And the amazing thing to me was how much things had changed.  Way back when I was a kid (I get to say that every now and then) for awhile I was the only girl in our city’s league, and there had been girls who were just three years older than I who hadn’t been allowed to play when they were my age – because girls weren’t allowed to play yet.  And while I didn’t have to struggle for the right to play, others before did and the residuals of that struggle were still hanging pretty thickly in the air when I was a kid.  So I was deeply aware yesterday of how the whole scene that is women’s sports had been a battleground more than a playing field – BUT NOW here was a stadium filled with thousands of little girls who would never have to question whether or not the game was for them.

And because it’s a game I loved – I was filled a joy that’s hard to explain.  For those little girls, soccer is undoubtedly theirs too and it’s theirs too because at some point along the way, valleys were filled and rough places were made smooth and it became safe for them to experience the glory of (at least) this game.

And the prophets told us to constantly wonder what it would be like if things in this world could become more like that.  We can give lots of historical examples of those kinds of changes that have happened, but there are still valleys that need filling, still so many hills that need to be made low in order for the all of the people of God to walk safely in this world.

Now I realize that the prophets vision was about something much larger than any of this, (even larger even than women’s soccer,) bigger in fact than anything we experience here because the prophets were talking about salvation – a kingdom yet to come.  BUT (this is part of the point of this season) we’ve been called into that vision not only as a comfort but also as our work –  and this vision can be both of those things.

In this vision we have been invited to find peace and trust that God is coming and will make things well.  But this is also a vision in which we should discover the kind of dis-comfort that leads us to apply all that we have to helping something new come into being.  And in the here and now that involves helping our world to more closely resemble the Kingdom that we pray is coming into being.   And so our waiting this season of Advent and always is to be a participatory, active sort of waiting in which we get out a shovel or two in our little corner of the world and we do what we can to level the ground.  And the flip side too-  we need to repent of the ways in which we benefit from the valleys and mountains existing as they do today.

So dream a little with me and the prophets this Advent:  What if the world was filled with children who not only got to play whatever game they wanted to play but what if the world was filled with children who never had to wonder if food was for them or safe streets or education or faith was for them?  What if the mountains that stood between children and clean water were brought low?    What if the valleys that got in the way of children and all people knowing peace were filled in?

These are the questions of the season, the promise and hope of the season that is Advent.  May the vision bring us comfort and dis-comfort all at the same time as we await the coming of our God.

 

Amen.

 

 

 

Leaning In
March 20, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

Leaning In

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – December 2, 2012 – Advent 1, Year C: Luke 21:25-36

I’m guessing that many of you have at some point in your lives visited the shores of Lake Michigan just before or during a big storm.  Stormy lake days have the ability to tweak our curiosity and even tug a little bit at our sense of adventure so most of us have found ourselves down there as the clouds begin to roll in.  It seems like the pull of the Lake on those days can be almost as strong as it is on hot, sunny days.  So, if you have had this experience of being there while a storm broke in over the horizon, remember that experience with me now; if you haven’t had such an experience, simply listen in to an amazingly beautiful thing that nature does.

The first thing I always notice when I arrive at the beach on those kinds of days is the wind. It can actually be hard to open your car door if your car is angled just so.  The power of the wind on those days is such that it can very literally throw off your balance and even tip you over if you’re not careful.  But here’s what I love: because of that incredible power, the wind is also strong enough to hold you up if you lean into it just right.  You can picture this can’t you?  If you lean in one direction you lose your balance completely.  But if you’re patient and lean just right, slightly into the wind and actually forward into the oncoming storm, you get held.  On a stormy day at the Lake, you can discover that sort of tentative yet hopeful “leaning into” that allows the wind in all of its overwhelming yet settling power to hold you in place.

Now with the wind often comes rain, sometimes snow, and always at the very least, blowing sand. So this day at the beach isn’t just a day at the beach.  This whole “let’s go to the Lake on a stormy day” thing is not a passive sort of experience – stormy beach days require a certain sort of awareness and attentiveness that isn’t always the case on other sorts of days.  On stormy days, you have to be particularly attentive to your eyes, how you are watching and where you are looking matter a lot.  And if you look up you notice that even the sky is in motion – often moving faster than it usually does.  And to look towards the Lake is to know that the waves are amazing – they remind you not only of the beauty of these days but also about the power of the water itself.  The waves can be huge- they’re almost unbelievable for a body of water that isn’t the ocean.  On stormy days the Lake displays an incredible amount of power for a body that is right here in the midst of where we live every day– the waves on these days are absolutely stunning and terrifying, dangerous and beautiful all at the same time.

And the sounds too drown out just about everything else you can hear, but because you can’t hear anything else they’re also strangely peaceful.  The magnitude of the sounds means that their presence is all that can matter that moment.  While our attentions are usually pulled in several directions at one time, during stormy days at the Lake, it’s nearly impossible to pay attention to anything but the stormy day at the lake.

And all of that is some of what those days are like – you can lean into the wind which will shake your every step, but if you lean just right can also almost miraculously hold you in a place that is very still.   You can feel the elements whipping up all around you and so the storm demands your absolute and undivided attention.  And on those kinds of days there is so much to watch, even the sky is in motion, so much to hear, so much that it all has the ability to remind everyone who is present that we stand in the midst of something powerful and beautiful and so very much larger than ourselves.

And Advent is like all of that.  We stand this morning at the beginning of a new Church year; there are four Sundays between us and Christmas and according to the gospel, the elements are shifting all around us. There’s a great wind blowing through here that will challenge our sense of balance even while that very same wind invites us to lean in and be held and learn to trust the stillness that we find in its arms.  The sounds are different too as this seasonal upheaval blows through – next week we’ll hear the roaring of a prophet in the wilderness; John the Baptist will demand our attention in ways that open our eyes and turn our hearts and we won’t have much of an option other than to listen to his words.  And as the season moves along we’ll hear the gently roaring sound of the Magnificat as Mary sings of “the greatness of the Lord” – the Lord who like the mystery of the waves will show the strength of his arm, scatter the proud in their conceit and cast down the mighty from their thrones, even while mercy is shown and the lowly are lifted and the hungry filled.

And so this morning, Advent I, a storm has blown in off the Lake; the Body that is so very close to our every day is demanding that we stand up, raise our heads, watch, and stay alert!  If we adjust a bit and lean in just right, we too can discover a holy sort of stillness in the arms of a miraculous gift.  Because this season we stand on the shores of something much greater than ourselves.

So pay attention, everyone!  Don’t miss the power. Don’t miss the beauty. Our redemption is drawing near.

Amen.

 

Memorial Service for Eric Heiberg
March 20, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

“Rest eternal grant to him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.”  On Thursday we will give thanks for the life and celebrate the new life of Eric Heiberg, former choir member, vestry member, and active presence at Grace Church.  Visitation is at 1:00 in the Church Commons.  The  service will be at 2:00 with reception to follow.

Lenten Wednesdays
March 20, 2013 by Jennifer Adams 0

Join us this Wednesday for the last in our Lenten Wednesday series.  Supper at 5:45, Holy Eucharist at 6:30 and practice stations at 7:00.  During Lent, we’re exploring the practice of “Forgiveness”.  One break out station is geared toward young children, the other is a viewing and discussion around the PBS series “Forgiveness: A Time to Love and a Time to Hate.”  All are welcome!

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