A Voice Like A Trumpet February 9

Isaiah 58:1-9a; Matthew 5:13-20

“Shout out; do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!”

With a voice like a trumpet, “Shout out; do not hold back!” Be brave and be blessed, my friends: ask the hard questions, not the whiny ones: What bushels are covering my life keeping me from shining God’s light before others? We can explore the same question regarding our life together as the body of Christ.

There’s an old, old story of a small country church that was given a big gift of money. They had a board meeting to decide how to spend this money. One little lady stood up and said, “I’d love to see us put a new chandelier in our sanctuary.”

One older brother got up and protested. “We don’t need any new chan-dee-leer in this sanctuary!” He said, “In the first place, I doubt that there’s anybody in this church who can even spell chan-dee-leer. In the second place, even if we had one, I doubt there’s anybody here who could play it. And in the third place, what we really need is more light in this room!”[1]

On an early Wednesday morning in November of 2004, the back chan-dee-leer, there, fell out of the ceiling and crashed onto the pews. [It was the night after the presidential election.] Larry, our sexton, found it that morning when he came into the sanctuary on his usual rounds.  Those of you who know Larry know that he is easily and dramatically startled. I can only imagine the look on his face and his hand grabbing his chest when he saw the bent brass frame on the pews, broken glass everywhere, some shards embedded into the wood. If you look around back there, you can still see the scars left behind. As a cautionary measure, we shut down the electricity up there, so it was a few weeks while everything was being repaired that we literally worshiped in a lightless sanctuary. And on one of those Sundays, I believe the furnace had broken down during the night so we not only sat in the dark, but we also sat here in the cold!

That morning, as we worshiped in this sanctuary together, we were the light in here. So we have some practice at being the light. Rural communities like those addressed in Matthew 5 knew very well how blinding darkness could be. “You are the light of the world,” Jesus told them; yet, they had no idea what it meant to be light. “You are the salt of the earth.” Neither had they a clue about what it meant to be salt.

“If salt loses its taste, how can it become salty again?” (MT 5:13b); “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (MT5:15-16).

What was Jesus talking about?  Jesus was teaching his followers about the ethics of the kingdom; in other words, how to be a disciple. The bottom line of salt and light is this: “a professed disciple who does not live this lifestyle of the kingdom is worth about as much as tasteless salt or invisible light.[2]

Christians have a great ethic to live by, yet how easy it is to substitute religion for faith. We like the purposeful predictability and comforting traditionalism—you know, that concept of an ol’ time religion: “It was good for the Hebrew children… and it’s good enough for me.” The problem with that ol’ time religion is that “good enough for me” is not good enough for God. That’s the message God is trying to get through the Hebrew children in our passage from Isaiah this morning. Hear the frustration in these instructions to Isaiah:

 “Shout out; do not hold back! LIFT UP YOUR VOICE LIKE A TRUMPET!” (ISA 58:1). Now, just as salt and light were staples in everyday life in Jesus’ day, trumpets are also very important to their lives. Trumpets (shofars) were essential instruments in life and religion of the Hebrews. There are 55 references to trumpets in the Bible. Trumpets call the people to temple, announce wars and victories, feasts and celebrations, disasters and doom and ultimately in the end times, the coming of the Kingdom of God. The sound of the shofars carried great distances; it was the original instant messaging of the ancient world, the call all to immediate attention—something big, big, BIG was about to happen. Remember when Joshua fit the battle of Jericho? What happened?

The trumpet still carries that mega message in modern times. In The Sound of Music, do you remember this exchange between Herr Zeller and Captain von Trapp?

Herr Zeller: Perhaps those who would warn you that the Anschluss is coming - and it is coming, Captain - perhaps they would get further with you by setting their words to music.

Captain von Trapp: If the Nazis take over Austria, I have no doubt, Herr Zeller, that you will be the entire trumpet section.

Herr Zeller: You flatter me, Captain.

Captain von Trapp: Oh, how clumsy of me - I meant to accuse you.[3]

 

The Israelites did not get it that their religious rituals were not pleasing to God because their rituals merely meant they were going-through-the motions, which means they were worth about as much as tasteless salt and invisible light. Fasting and bowing like the bulrushes, they thought God was getting what he asked for, but they were only flattering themselves. It’s Isaiah’s job to convey the sad news, accusing the Hebrews of completely missing the meaning of their relationship with God. “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day…” (ISA 58:3b). “Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.” (ISA 58:4b).

 

The people were fasting, but it was God who was starving…starving for the fast that God chooses: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke; to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke; to share bread with the hungry; to bring the homeless poor into one’s house; to cover the naked; and not to hide” (ISA 58:6-8). This is the fast that God chooses. God promises those who choose his fast that “your light shall break through the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, and the glory of the Lord shall be our rear guard. “Then you shall call and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and God will say,[ with a voice like a trumpet I am sure], “Here I am.”

 

That is the good news, today; that God is here in Jesus Christ, equipping us to Be the attitude of God’s light in the world: so, let’s SHINE! We can also be the salt of the earth and teach others to savor the flavor of God’s love. So let’s shake it up, Baby! We can be the entire trumpet section for the blessings of God’s kingdom. As you can see, our sanctuary’s chandelier’s long been fixed. No matter how we spell chan-dee-leer,  though, what we really need is more of Christ’s light in here [heart]—and out THERE! Let this be our new beginning! Amen.

 

February 9, 2014

First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME

The Reverend Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

 

---

[1] King, Duncan. “The Foolishness of God.” In Dynamic Preaching, January February March 2014, p 29.

[2] RC Sproul. Devotions: “Salt and Light”; @ www.ligonier.org.

[3] Rogers & Hammerstein. “The Sound of Music”; 1965.

Blessing Reframed February 2, 2014

Micah 6:1-8; Matthew 5:1-12

With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high?


I guess I was a little nervous. When I was first here at FPFC, I had not officiated at many weddings yet. The ceremony was held in the Great Room upstairs, and we had gotten through the charge, declaration, the exchange of vows and rings quite well. The next thing in the great order of nuptials is "the Kiss."

The right way to do it is to say to the Groom, "You may now kiss your bride." But I misspoke. What came out of my mouth was, "’Sam’ you may now bless your bride." He turned to me with eyes this big and a smile this wide and said, "Right here?!" Everybody lost it, and I’ve never forgotten it. Maybe I’ve forgotten that I’ve already told you this story?

Did you know that the word bless actually comes from an OE word blod, which sounds like our word blood, doesn’t it? In fact, the word originally described a pagan ritual that involved sprinkling blood on an altar. It doesn’t have anything to do with blood.

The word bless has been usurped into the vernacular in statements like, "We were blessed to get a parking space by the door"; or "We were blessed to win the Megabucks." Being blessed has nothing to do with getting lucky—no matter what my groom thought. The word we know as "bless" actually came from an ancient word, blod, which meant to spread blood on an altar, a pagan ritual beyond our ken.



For Christians, blessings come from God and have everything to do with faith. Yet, clearly the world is taking some of our faith language and "reframing" it to mean something completely different. For instance, a redemption center is not a church but a place to bring returnable bottles and cans.

How many phrases (idioms) can you think of that contain a form of the word "Bless"? We have the blessed event; bless your heart; bless your soul. We have mixed blessings, unexpected blessings, blessings in disguise; counting our blessings; bless one’s lucky star; bless her cotton socks (British/Australian humor). There’s even a proverb: "blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed."

In the OT lesson this morning, we meet Micah, a prophet speaking for a disappointed God—disappointed and frustrated by Israel’s reframing the rituals of sacrifice to meaning that they were "good with God." Micah’s message to the masses is that calves a year old, thousands of rams, numerous rivers of oil, or firstborn infanticide" means nothing to God. If one’s life of faith fails to seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, then what one might think is a blessing from God is probably nothing more than a case of getting lucky. There’s nothing blessed about it.

In the NT lesson, Jesus begins his very first sermon with the word "Blessed." Blessed are the poor in spirit; blessed are those who mourn; blessed are the meek; blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness; blessed are the merciful; blessed are the pure in heart; blessed are the peacemakers.

This list of seven blessings is called the Beatitudes. The name comes from the Latin translation of the Sermon on the Mount, which begins each blessing with the word "beati" which means "happiness" or "wealth." If you wanted to, you could replace "blessed" with the words "happy" or "wealthy." They fit, but they do not frame the true meaning of the message.

Happy and Wealthy have connotations far afield of blessedness. The passage may sound like the outline for a best-selling self-help paperback, but for the followers of Christ, it’s unwise to reframe the beatitudes into the seven secret ways to find happiness or become wealthy.

Truly, the Beatitudes are about finding God-given strength in humility. Just as I Corinthians 13 is the classic passage on love, Matthew 5:1-12 is the finest treatise on humility. Let’s find out why1:

1 Sproul, RC. "The Beatitudes." www.ligonier.org



 The poor in spirit are those convinced of their spiritual poverty. Nothing humbles a person faster than the recognition of just how far they are from the person God created them to be.

 Those who mourn acknowledge their continued sinfulness because of their spiritual poverty, and such recognition causes them to mourn over their condition. Also humbling.

 The meek have strength of character allowing them to withstand mistreatment by others and abide in adverse circumstances in their lives without becoming resentful or bitter toward God or anyone else. This is humility of self-understanding.

 Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness have a growing recognition of their continued sinfulness, coupled with humbling realizations that their sins are covered by the blood of Christ. The tension between what they desire to be and what they still see themselves to be produces a continual state of humility toward God and other people.

 The merciful are those who realize how much they have been forgiven, and they readily forgive those who sin against them. Mercifulness begins with humility, with a deep sense of one’s own spiritual poverty coupled with a growing realization of how much one has been forgiven by God.

 The pure in heart have not achieved sinless perfection, as one might think. Their lives are characterized by a sincere desire for and an earnest effort toward holiness even though only God is holy. This, too, is humility.



 Peacemakers take the initiative toward peace even when they have been wronged. Only when we have this attitude toward ourselves can we seek to be peacemakers among others. Humility leads to peace.

The Beatitudes, I think, reframe for followers then and now God’s message through Micah to people prone to disobedience. You see, God requires us to seek justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with him because God is faithful in all things to us.The faith we practice as individuals, as congregations, and as the body of Christ is not about attaining happiness or wealth or good luck for ourselves; it is about the blessing of being in covenant with a wholly holy God who only requires us to seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with him.

These requirements and the necessity of obedience are not God’s way of humiliating us. They are there to bring us the best blessing of all: new life in Jesus Christ. Through the sacred meal we are about to share, we remember that Jesus took on the ultimate humiliation of death on a cross. This is a blessing, a spreading, or shedding, of blood, that the world will never understand.

How does one reframe the action of an innocent man, the Son of God, being whipped and stripped, a savior pleading and bleeding, to secure for sinners and for lost and disobedient souls God’s ultimate blessing: everlasting life for those who seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.

So for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, and in plenty and in want, let us take a vow today to be a blessing to people through lives reframed and refocused on seeking justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God.

And with humble hearts, friends, let’s bless one another in God’s name—and, oh yeah, do it right now. Amen.

February 2, 2014/First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME/Rev Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

The Remedy of Love Isaiah 9:1-4; I Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23

The Remedy of Love

Isaiah 9:1-4; I Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23

As [Jesus] went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John,

 in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them.

 

It is said that in the ancient world fisherman would spend more time preparing and mending their nets than they would actually spend fishing because the truth about fishing nets is this: you cannot catch fish unless your net is whole.  Now the good news for us today is that “God is in the business of mending our nets.”[1]

The challenge, however, is that many of us Christians assume that our nets are not in need of mending. “So what if there’s a little hole here, a bit bigger tear there? We’re not worried; our nets are good enough to catch just enough of what we need of Jesus.”

The net that Jesus casts is not about catching people for the local church; the net that Jesus teaches the disciples to cast is the one that is woven and held by God’s holy hands and offers each person the gifts of unconditional love and eternal life .

We’ve heard this passage about James and John, Peter and Andrew, hundreds of times, and it might seem like an over-told, not quite believable, fish story with the same old, not quite believable, message that most of us are well-trained to disregard with secret thoughts like, “There’s no way! Drop everything—our livelihoods, our families, our homes—immediately, like the brothers did—in order to follow Jesus? C’mon! That was then; this is now. My life is fine just the way it is.” But is it fine…really; is it full of the love that matters?

Holy scripture tells us that Jesus led ordinary people, like the disciples, to do extraordinary things, like casting nets of love upon the lost and hurting people and bringing them into the kingdom that comes near to us in Jesus Christ. The disciples and Jesus traveled around Galilee for three years, fishing for people by  teaching in the synagogues, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and curing every disease and sickness” (v 23). Jesus’ approach was a very different kind of fishing than the disciples had ever seen or done before.

And so it was for a Canadian game warden who confronted a man in Ontario as he was leaving a lake with buckets of fish. The game warden asked the man, “Do you have a license to catch those fish?” The man replied to the game warden, “No, sir. These are my pet fish.” “Pet fish?” the warden replied. “Yes, sir, every night I take these fish down to the lake and let them swim around for a while. I whistle and they jump back into their buckets, and I take them home.”“No Way!” The game warden said. “Fish can’t do that!”

 The man looked at the game warden for a moment, and then said, “Here, I’ll show you. It really works.”“OK, I’ve GOT to see this!” The man poured the fish into the water and stood and waited. After several minutes, the warden asked, “Well?”“Well what?” The man asked. “When are you going to call them back?” the game warden prompted. “Call who back?” the man asked. “The FISH!” shouted the warden. “What fish?” the man asked.

“What fish?” Peter, Andrew, James and John must have been wondering as they cast off everything important to them and jumped into a life of following Jesus. “What kind of net will we use to fish for people?”

It was, and is, Christ’s net of a holy love. Jesus came to earth to cast his net upon the “fish” who were sick, or lost, or lonely; the “fish” who were confused, or frightened, or lazy.

• He aimed at the ones upended, downtrodden, and dumbfounded;
• he reeled in the sin-sick, the cold-hearted and the innocent;
• and he did not forget the wayward, the belligerent, and even the evil.

People of Capernaum and beyond could not jump into Jesus’ net fast enough! Why?  Because everyone desires to be loved.

Love doesn’t cost anything and yet the soul is willing to give everything for it. Love runs its own ad campaign. As one child said, “Love is its own because.”

Dr Ira Byock in his book, The Four Things that Matter Most: A Book about Living, names Love as the fourth thing that matters most. He writes, “Love is the most powerful of human emotions. And ‘I love you’ is arguably the single most important sentence in any language.”[2] 

Expressing love is vital to making our relationships complete and whole. Physical affection is commonly equated with sex, but there are many forms of physical love that can be intimate without being sexual: a mother bathing her baby; best friends walking arm in arm or hand in hand. Speaking love is just as important; yet, how many of us come from families that “just don’t do that.”

Gunter, a colleague of Dr Byock at the University of Montana, and his father came from a long line of stoic German farmers. His father was close to death, and he asked to speak with Gunter alone. Gunter could not have been more dumbfounded when his stoic Lutheran father asked, “Son, would you please shave me?” Knowing his father, Gunter realized that his father was really asking his son to touch him.

Gunter said it felt a bit strange at first to touch his father’s face in such an intimate, tender way. He took his father’s old shaving brush, cup, and special shaving soap and worked up a rich, smooth lather. [I remember seeing my father’s shaving cup and brush in the bathroom closet. I remember watching him lather his face and oh, so carefully, shaving each part of his face and neck.] As Gunter stood behind his father and shaved the front of his neck, chills ran up his spine. He realized he was replaying a scene from his childhood. On his thirteenth birthday, Gunter’s father gave him a Gillette safety razor, and that morning the father showed his son how to shave for the first time.

“He stood behind me in front of the bathroom mirror and showed me how to scoop the later up as I shaved my neck. It was an important rite of passage for me at the time. I realized that we were conducting a rite of passage for my father” too.[3]

The problem of so many people starving for love in our day seems insurmountable to me at times. Then I remember President Eisenhower once said, “If you can’t solve a problem as it is, enlarge it.” Henry David Thoreau stated that “the remedy to love is more love.” I think that’s another way of saying the same thing. If love is missing in your life, don’t crawl back under the covers and hide from it: enlarge it!

If there are painful holes in our nets, then we need to mend them with Christ’s holy love. We’ll be good to go, so that when Christ calls us to follow him, we won’t be asking, “What fish?” and we will not be content just to sing about following him, but we will immediately leave our boats on the shoreline behind us, and by Christ’s side, we will seek other seas.[4] That’s what I call a remedy!

January 26, 2014/First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME/The Reverend Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

---

[1] Ray Kane quoted in “The Importance of Mending Your Nets” at www.ReflectionsfromtheAlley.org.

[2] Byock, Ira. The Four Things That Matter Most: A Book about Living.

 

[3]Byock, Ira. P 

[4] “O Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore.” Chalice Hymnal.

The Eye of the Beholder Isaiah 49:1-7; John 1:29-42

The Eye of the Beholder

Isaiah 49:1-7; John 1:29-42

“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

According to legend, a young man was roaming the desert one day, and he came across a spring of delicious crystal-clear water. The water was so sweet he filled his leather canteen so he could bring some back to the tribal elder who had been his teacher.

After a four-day journey, the young man presented the water to the elder, who took a deep drink, smiled warmly and thanked his student lavishly for the sweet water. The young man left his gift with the elder and returned to his own part of the village with a happy heart.

Later, the teacher invited another student to taste the gift of sweet water. He spat it out, saying it was awful.  “Master, the water was foul. Why did you say it was sweet?” The teacher replied, “You only tasted the water. I tasted the gift. The water was simply the container for an act of loving-kindness, and nothing could be sweeter.”

 

How sweet it was when John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him that day. “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (v 29b) It was not John’s lips that spoke but his heart.  John knew that Jesus was the “container” for an immense act of loving-kindness from God.

 

The sight of God’s own son, the irrefutable, unrepeatable and all-out amazing, living, breathing, walking, talking sacrificial gift of loving-kindness, was so profoundly sweet to him that John could taste God’s love at the sight of Jesus, God’s greatest gift to us all.

Why was it so sweet? Could it be—that John, feeling deeply grateful to God for the gift of the promised Messiah, desired only one thing: to point people to God’s gift, the Lamb of God.

In pointing out Jesus to John’s own disciples, the Baptizer was releasing them to the one of whom he said, “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.”

I marvel at John’s words because he’s not showing any jealousy toward Jesus; John doesn’t seem to mind that his cousin is basically “stealing his thunder.” After all, John’s own disciples take off after Jesus and leave their teacher behind in the dust.

I think John’s not destroyed because he is grateful for what God has done for him, even though the ride is now over. It’s like he’s saying, “Lord, it’s been great having people coming to me from all over the countryside so that I could baptize them with water, I loved every minute of it; but the next phase, a new stage, of your divine design is beginning.

I know it is time for me to let go. As I step back, I just want to say, ‘Thank you, God, for including me in your plan. Behold, I am truly humbled and exceedingly grateful.”

You see, John’s biggest role in the divine plan was not to be the greatest but to point people to the one greater than himself: Jesus, the Lamb of God! He was grateful to be in the play no matter how small the part.

It feels great to make a contribution to the world, doesn’t it? When our efforts are recognized it’s like someone is saying, “You did a really awesome job!” And inside, you’re saying, “I feel good! Doo doo doo doo doo doo do!”  Feeling that what we’ve done in life is appreciated is very important to our sense of well being.

Yet so many folks believe they have nothing to contribute and nothing for which to be particularly thankful. Words attributed to Mother Teresa bring this point home to us: “There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.” Why is that?

Dr Ira Byock suggests that “Our relationships and indeed our lives can too easily become habitual, insulating us from experiencing what a miracle it is to be alive and how much is given to us each moment.”

It’s tasting the foul water and spitting it out, even when it’s given to you at great expense to the giver. If you think about it, isn’t that reaction a lot like what many people have had to the gift that is most precious to God, the Son, the Lamb of God?

The key to being thankful is to recognize the little things. Are you able to identify the gifts that hide in the midst of the everyday troubles and little annoyances we all experience in our lives?

It is easier to be thankful to God for the obvious things. The holiness of gratitude comes when we are able to be grateful in the opposites. Here’s what I’m getting at: Ask yourself if you can be thankful --

• for the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes because he or she is at home and not out on the streets?
• for the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means you have enough to eat?
• for your huge heating bill because it means you are warm?
• for a driveway that needs shoveling, windows that need cleaning and gutters that need fixing because it means you have a home?
• for the pastor who preaches to you about growing in your personal relationship with Jesus Christ because it means she cares about your soul and where you will spend eternity.

Gratitude doesn’t always come so naturally to us, but with practice we can learn to say thank you during even the most difficult of circumstances. To speak words of thankfulness in all circumstances is a life changer, because thankfulness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.  

Each person sees beauty in different ways. I don’t recommend seeing it the way Miss Piggy does. She once said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.”

Professor Johannes Gaertner put it much better: “To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch heaven.”

One of these days, we may see Jesus, the Lamb of God, walking toward us. He won’t look like any sacrificial lamb you’ve ever seen, probably. He won’t look like a Messiah, for sure.

He just might look like a homeless person asking for money—be thankful because you have a job and money to give him.

Or he could  be the person driving much too slow in front of you when you’re running late—be thankful because he’s forcing you to slow down, be careful and arrive safely.

Friends, practicing gratitude helps us focus on the positive even in the midst of the negative. Gratitude actually breeds joy, that’s why “thank you” is one of the most important things to say at every opportunity that presents itself.

Don’t let ingratitude, or the inability to be thankful for what God has done for you, plant a black eye on your faith. Let’s learn to speak gratitude as fluently as we speak English.

Then God, our beholder, can make of our lives a testimony of thankfulness; each of us can be that “light to the nations,” Isaiah was talking about, so that salvation may reach all around the world pointing all people to follow the Lamb of God to the day another great prophet from our own time preached to the poor and the oppressed, to the downtrodden and to the visionaries, in effect,

“I have a dream today… when all of God's children, black and white, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, (Buddhists and Muslims, gay and straight, deformed and denied, poor and persecuted) will be able to join hands together and sing in words like those of the old Negro spiritual…” Saved  at last; saved at last; Thank God Almighty, we are saved at last!

Oh, how sweet it is! Amen.

January 19, 2014

The First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME

The Reverend Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

Up a Tree

UP A TREE

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Luke 19:1-10

For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

In 1975, on Halloween, an unemployed schoolteacher named Wilhelmus de Rijk walked into Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum and headed straight for Rembrandt’s painting, The Night Watch. He stood in front of the painting, looking creepy, until the guards... got nervous and asked him to leave. De Rijk walked out of the room, walked back in, and attacked the painting with a bread knife that he had stolen from his hotel’s room service.

De Rijk was a large man, and he managed to hold the museum guards off long enough to slash the painting more than a dozen times while shouting, by way of apology, “I have been sent by the Lord! I have been forced to do this by forces out of this Earth!” The guards finally wrestled De Rijk to the ground, he was eventually committed to a mental home, and later he committed suicide.

After a four-year restoration process, the painting went back up, this time under permanent guard. Which was lucky, because it meant that when, in 1990, another Dutchman sprayed acid on the painting from a concealed bottle, the guards were able to douse the painting with water quickly enough to avoid permanent damage.

De Rijk wasn’t the first person to attack The Night Watch. He wasn’t even the first Dutch person—nor the first to do it with a knife. That distinction went to “a discharged naval cook named Sigrist,” who, “with a knife deliberately slashed the masterpiece,” apparently as revenge for his discharge from the navy.

Desperate people do desperate things; and Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector in Jericho, was a desperate man—not because he was hated by the taxpayers, not because he was filthy rich, and not because “a wee little man was he.” Zacchaeus was desperate because he was lost…and fortunately, for all who are lost, Jesus—Son of Man and Son of God—“came to seek out and to save the lost” (Lk 19:10).

Being the lost whom Jesus came to seek and to save has nothing to do with one’s physical location—all of us have probably been lost physically from time to time in that way: lost in the woods, lost in the city, lost in the dark…. Neither does being lost have anything to do with one’s emotional status. Have any of you ever felt lost in a crowd? Lost among friends? I know I have. It’s not a good feeling at all.

Chief Tax Collector Zacchaeus is not lost in those ways; he’s lost spiritually, he’s lost in sin. He lived quite comfortably in that sin…until he heard that this teacher, this prophet, this healer, this Jesus, was passing through Jericho…and Zacchaeus was intrigued; he wanted to see who Jesus was. And maybe, just maybe, he could see what the fuss was all about. That was Zacchaeus’ plan. He was going to survey the situation; he had no idea that his whole life was about to change. When Z ran ahead of the crowd and climbed the sycamore tree, he was actually running toward his own salvation.

What is this thing called salvation? Well, I could give you the reformed church’s systematic theology explanation using John Calvin’s 17^th century TULIP acronym:

T stands for total human depravity;

U equals unconditional election—this is the part about some are chosen by God for eternal life and some are damned from the beginning;     

 L stands for Limited Atonement meaning that Christ died only for certain people.

I stands for Irresistible Grace, only certain people had the ability to respond to the Holy Spirit’s call upon their lives; and

P is for the Perseverance of the Saints, again the elect are able to continue in the faith because God had already chosen them for sanctification.

TULIP is just one understanding of salvation; far more accessible to us in the 21^st century is this understanding put forth by the United Methodist Church:   

Salvation is to know that after feeling lost and alone, we've been found by God. It's to know that after feeling worthless, we've been redeemed. It's to experience a reunion with God, others, the natural world, and our own best selves. It's a healing of the alienation—the estrangement—we've experienced. In salvation we become whole. Salvation happens to us both now and for the future. It's ‘eternal life,’ that new quality of life in unity with God.”[1]

Zacchaeus would never be the same after Jesus called his name that day. “Hurry and come down,” Jesus said, “for I MUST stay at your house today” (Lk 19:5). Zacchaeus’ feet had barely touched the dirt before he was giving half his money to the poor and repaying those he had defrauded 4 times the value of what he originally stole from them.

The NRSV translation says that Zacchaeus hurried down and was happy to welcome him, but the Greek word chairo ((khah'-ee-ro) actually means rejoicing, being glad; celebrating like the Red Sox won the World Series! Zacchaeus has been changed! He knows it; he feels it; and he does something with it!

And so must we. Desperate people do desperate things. The first thing is to admit we are sinners; that we are lost. But do not fear: the lost are dear to the heart of God—so dear that God was willing to do something desperate, too, and that something was to send his very own son—God’s irreplaceable masterpiece of love—to die for our sins so that we can live with God forever—that’s what it means to be desperate; that’s what it means to be saved.

And so I pray that Jesus is come to our house today…and that he will celebrate with us this meal: the bread of life and the cup of salvation. To taste how gracious our Lord is, we have to welcome him, and listen for his voice. Softly and tenderly, or loudly and boisterously, Jesus is calling each one of us by name: “Come down from the tree of loneliness and live in my community. Come down from the tree of restlessness and might find your rest in me. Friend, come down from whatever desperate perch is keeping you from rejoicing with me. Let go; come down; eat with me, and be refreshed, restored, and renewed. Rejoice, the long night watch is over; today, salvation has come to this house.” Amen.

November 3, 2013

First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME

The Reverend Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

---

[1] http://www.umc.org/site/c.lwL4KnN1LtH/b.2311271/

The Struggle for a Blessing

THE STRUGGLE FOR A BLESSING

Genesis 32:24-30; 2 Timothy 3:16-17; Luke 18:1-8

Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go,

unless you bless me.”

Twenty years have passed since Jacob ran for his life from his brother Esau. Jacob had stolen his brother’s birthright blessing. Jacob is filled with anxiety, but before he comes face to face with his brother, Jacob must come face to face with God.

This mysterious midnight wrestling match augurs what struggling with God is like—it is a struggle for a blessing; a struggle for one’s very life. Jacob’s struggle with God is not his alone. The entire faith community of Israelites is also in an intense wrestling match with God at this time.

We, too, fiercely struggle with God at different times in our lives, and at the end of the struggle, we are, as Jacob was, forever changed.

For Jacob, his name was no longer Jacob…and he walked with a limp thereafter. Like Jacob, following our wrestling with God, we go forward, blessed—wounded perhaps, but changed forever.

I could tell you about wrestling with God; I have had my own encounters. But this week being what it was, losing Vicki, I wanted to bring to you something very different this morning…something that would be so pleasing to and so like Vicki who knew how to hear the powerful word of God not simply read, but really cracked open, spilled out, and soaked up.

The following excerpt is based taken from American Christian author, Frederick Buechner, and it is based on our Genesis reading from the Hebrew Bible. During this dramatic reading, I challenge you to put yourself at the river Jabbok’s edge; struggle, with Jacob, for a blessing, God’s blessing. I hope that you will be inspired this morning as you experience Buechner's account of Jacob's wrestle, which is taken from his book, The Son of Laughter.[1]

Out of the dark someone leaped at me with such force that it knocked me onto my back. It was a man. I could not see his face. His naked shoulder was pressed so hard against my jaw I thought he would break it. His flesh was chill and wet[,] as the river.

He was the god of the river.

·      My bulls had raped him.

·      My flocks had fouled him and

·      My children [had] pissed on him.

He would not let me cross [the river] without a battle. I got my elbow into the pit of his throat and forced him off. I threw him over onto his back.

His breath was hot in my face as I straddled him. My breath came in gasps. Quick as a serpent he twisted loose, and I was caught between his thighs. The grip was so tight I could not move.

He had both hands pressed to my cheek. He was pushing my face into the mud, grunting with the effort. Then he got me on my belly with his knee in the small of my back. He was tugging my head up toward him. He was breaking my neck.

He was not the god of the river. He was Esau.

He had slain all my sons. He had forded the river to slay me. Just as my neck was about to snap, I butted my head upward with the last of my strength and caught him square. For an instant his grip loosened and I was free. Over and over we rolled together into the reeds at the water's edge.

We struggled in each other's arms. He was on top. Then I was on top. I knew that they were not Esau's arms. It was not Esau. I did not know who it was. I did not know who I was. I knew only my terror and that it was dark as death. I knew only that what the stranger wanted was my life.

For the rest of the night we battled in the reeds with the Jabbok roaring down through the gorge above us. Each time I thought I was lost, I escaped somehow.

There were moments when we lay exhausted in each other's arms the way a man and a woman  lie exhausted from passion. There were moments when I seemed to be prevailing. It was as if he was letting me prevail. Then he was at me with new fury. But he did not prevail.

For hours it went on that way. Our bodies were slippery with mud. We were panting like beasts. We could not see each other. We spoke no words. I did not know why we were fighting. It was like fighting in a dream.

He outweighed me, he out-wrestled me, but he did not overpower me. He did not overpower me until the moment came to overpower me. When the moment came, I knew that he could have made it come whenever he wanted. I knew that all through the night he had been waiting for that moment.

He had his knee under my hip. The rest of his weight was on top of my hip. Then the moment came, and he gave a fierce downward thrust. I felt a fierce pain.

It was less a pain I felt than a pain I saw. I saw it as light. I saw the pain as a dazzling bird-shape of light.

·      The pain's beak impaled me with light.

·      It blinded me with the light of its wings.

I knew I was crippled and done for. I could do nothing but cling now. I clung for dear life. I clung for dear death. My arms trussed him. My legs locked him. For the first time he spoke.

He said, "Let me go." The words were more breath than sound. They scalded my neck where his mouth was touching.

He said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking."

Only then did I see it, the first faint shudder of light behind the farthest hills. I said, "I will not let you go."

I would not let him go for fear that the day would take him as the dark had given him. It was my life I clung to. My enemy was my life. My life was my enemy. I said, "I will not let you go unless you bless me."

Even if his blessing meant death, I wanted it more than life.

"Bless me," I said. "I will not let you go unless you bless me."

He said, "Who are you?"

There was mud in my eyes, my ears and nostrils, my hair. My name tasted of mud when I spoke it. "Jacob," I said. "My name is Jacob."

"It is Jacob no longer," he said. "Now you are Israel. You have wrestled with God and with men. You have prevailed. That is the meaning of the name Israel."

I was no longer Jacob. I was no longer myself. Israel was who I was. The stranger had said it.

I tried to say it the way he had said it: Yees-rah-ail. I tried to say the new name I was to the new self I was.

I could not see him. He was too close to me to see. I could see only the curve of his shoulders above me. I saw the first glimmer of dawn on his shoulders like a wound.

I said, "What is your name?" I could only whisper it.

"Why do you ask me my name?"

We were both of us whispering. He did not wait for my answer. He blessed me as I had asked him.

I do not remember the words of his blessing or even if there were words. I remember the blessing of his arms holding me and the blessing of his arms letting me go. I remember as blessing the black shape of him against the rose-colored sky.

I remember as blessing the one glimpse I had of his face. It was more terrible than the face of dark, or of pain, or of terror. It was the face of light.

No words can tell of it. Silence cannot tell of it. Sometimes I cannot believe that I saw it and lived but that I only dreamed I saw it. Sometimes I believe I saw it and that I only dream I live.

Amen.

October 20, 2013
First Parish Federated Church of South Berwick, ME
The Reverend Donna Lee Muise, Pastor

---

[1] Buechner, Frederick. The Son of Laughter. HarperOne. 1994.