Stay Calm, Shut up and Pray

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                 St. Gabriel's, Marion, Massacusetts

I’m grateful to Geoffrey for his invitation to me to join you today here at St. Gabriel’s in Marion. Our daughter’s first mission trip was to West Virginia and so I’m delighted to support your rector, Deacon Cathy, and your youth on their trip there this week. I found your parish history fascinating - how your chapel was founded by Admiral Harwood who, when he was in a storm at sea, called upon the Angel Gabriel for deliverance. As he pleaded with God to save him, he promised to build a church in Marion - if he survived. And so, here I am reading today’s gospel about this very same issue.

            How about those storms? While I was serving at St. Paul’s in Riverside, Connecticut, in 2001 we could see the plumes of smoke rising from the Twin Towers. Accustomed to hearing planes overhead, suddenly there was a dead calm after that storm. Before then, we lived in Newtown, Connecticut, where our children attended Sandy Hook School, fortunately long before the horrific shooting that occurred in 2012. And friends told me about the tornadoes that touched down there recently; one friend said that she was in her car on the interstate when everything suddenly turned black. All the cars around her came to a standstill, and things started flying through the air. She said that she didn’t know what to hold onto during that terrifying time.

            Storms come in various sizes and shapes, don’t they? We weather political, socio-economic, religious, and personal storms. We experience natural and unnatural disasters. Whether these storms are physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual they are terrifying. We feel vulnerable, powerless, and at a loss. We want to feel safe, and so we look for ways to protect ourselves and others, especially those we love. As the winds of chaos swirl around us, and the waves of destruction batter our boats, we cry out for help. Or we go silent. For many people, sleep escapes them.

            Clearly the disciples were awake that night. They have spent the last few days with Jesus, who has already been called Satan by the scribes, accused of being crazy by his family members, and publicly shamed by the leaders of his own faith community. During this same time, he has cast out demons, cured Simon’s mother-in-law, cleansed a leper, healed a paralytic, and a man with a withered hand. As new disciples, perhaps they too were wondering, “Who is this Jesus anyway?”

After teaching about the kingdom of God being like a mustard seed, “on that day, when evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’” Now there is an expression used, sometimes in jest, and sometimes seriously, when we say, “They’ve gone to the dark side.” When Jesus said, “Let us go across to the other side,” his disciples know that they are going “to the dark side.”

What does a “dark side” look like? The disciples have left their homes and their jobs to follow Jesus, and they have gotten into a boat at night to go to a foreign country. When they arrived, they are greeted by a demoniac, not exactly your typical newcomers’ welcoming committee. The dark side is any unknown territory, those times and places when we take risks, step onto unfamiliar ground, stick our necks out, and go to that side of human nature where we may encounter dark emotions, dangerous thoughts, spiritual warfare, and hostile acts.

It’s easy to find comparisons in today’s scripture lessons about the storms that are raging all around us about immigration. Although, migration is as old as our beginnings in Africa, and is woven throughout our Judeo-Christian stories, it is a topic that engenders great emotion, especially when it involves children. In most cases, there are good reasons for these migrations; and yet immigrants, whether they are legal or not, endure hardships much like the ones that St. Paul described in his letter to the Corinthians. In fact, St. Paul knew these experiences first hand as a new disciple of Jesus.

One of my favorite books is called the Life of Pi. In it, a God-loving boy named Pi, who practices not only his native Hinduism but also Christianity and Islam, emigrates from India to North America aboard a Japanese cargo ship with his family and their zoo animals. On their way to the other side, the boat sinks during a storm, and only Pi, a hyena, an orangutan, a wounded zebra, and a 450 pound Bengal tiger survive. Driven by despair and self-preservation, they fight with one another, enduring the sun and the sea without protection, while they each struggle to stay alive in their own little ways.

 “Do you not care that we are perishing?” cry the disciples to Jesus in the middle of their storm. Unlike Admiral Harwood, however, the disciples weren’t crying for help, or making promises to God; they just wanted to know if Jesus cared. Shouting at him, they woke him up! Woke him up! How could Jesus possibly be asleep in this raging storm?

There are many explanations for his sleep. Aside from the possibility of a temporary escape from reality, maybe Jesus hoped to slip away from the crowds unnoticed, and go to a place where no one knew him. Perhaps Jesus didn’t want to waste daylight time to travel, and so he used the nighttime instead. Given Jesus’ grueling schedule, he needed to rest, and catch a few “z’s”, before he was “on” again. Or maybe Jesus just knew that it was safer to slip into a foreign country under the cover of night. What I find most interesting, however, is that according to the Old Testament, the word ‘asleep’ is a typical posture of trust in God.

Another very curious phrase is that the disciples “took Jesus with them; just as he was.” Really? As if he couldn’t walk on his own? Was he really that exhausted? Or helpless, like baggage that needed to be picked up and thrown on board? Did they take him like a sleeping child, vulnerable and trusting in his caregivers, who would then fasten him into his seat, for a safe ride to the other side? So how was Jesus, really?

Where is God, in whom we trust, at times like these? Is God asleep, while we lie awake all night, trying to steer our boats into safe harbors. Who is in the boat with us, anyway? Are there Bengal tigers that want to kill and eat us, fighting for their own survival as well? What can we hold onto at times like these: of “afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, and hunger,” when turbulent waters threaten to sink us and windstorms hurl us into the dark?

Like Admiral Harwood, I often bargain with God. We make promises that we’ll clean up our lives, or create new laws, or repair our relationships with others, if God will just wake up and make the storms stop. We call each other by names, fight for our own survivals, and run on motors of fear, rather than with faith in God and in each other. We wonder, like the disciples, if Jesus really cares, or if He is just sleeping comfortably in the stern of God’s Big Boat in the sky?

Well, fortunately for the disciples, Jesus responded to the shouts of his followers and woke up. Using the same language he used with the demons, Jesus rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” In the vernacular, the Greek word for ‘Be still’ means, ‘Shut up.’ And so, the “wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.”

“Dead calm?” I wondered. Is this another play on words by Mark? Was this the eye of the storm, like Trump’s recent executive order, or the temporary air restrictions over New York city, before the shouting and warfare started up again with similar fury? I wondered, would the disciples and Jesus make it safely to the other side, or would they face yet another terrifying storm before they arrived? “Shut up!” I say to the voices in my head and all around me during my storms. I want peace and quiet too, so that I can think and pray, so that I can discern the gospel truth. So that I can say and do the next right thing.

            Jesus’ response to the disciples is also curious. Some think that Jesus rebuked them also, telling them to shut up, and be still. He asked them why they were afraid; and yet, their fear was real. As Nadia Bolz-Weber once said, “Being fearful in a storm at sea is not exactly irrational like pogonophobia, that is a fear of beards.”

So the fear of the disciples is real and rational; but what about that faith question. Up until this point, Jesus had shown them that the power of God can do anything. And now Jesus showed them once again. Perhaps, with mouths hanging open in disbelief, the disciples’ fear turned into yet another kind of fear, which is translated as “great awe.” This fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, when we also ask, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

Your church was named after St. Gabriel, who is honored in many faith traditions. St. Gabriel is a messenger of God - who, like Jesus, communicated God’s will for God’s people. We remember St Gabriel for the time when he told Mary that she was with child. That child was Jesus: the One who revealed God’s strength and power in human flesh, and wants all people to be reconciled to God and each other, and live in peace. And so, St. Paul speaks to us as little children, inviting us to open wide our hearts and let this child come in.

 Fear and awe demand that we be still and know that God is present at all times, in all places, and with all people. God is with us in the boat, above us in the skies, under us in the waters, and in the winds that blow all around us. God is with us in wounded Zebras and Bengal tigers, in the old man by the sea and the young child at home, in screaming hyenas and funny orangutans, in every country and all conditions. God is with us when Life is fruitful, and when Life is frightening. A UCC pastor in Canada named Justin Joplin wrote, “The disciples discovered that sticking close to Jesus was what really mattered.”  (6/19/18, www.d365.org, Justin Joplin)

            Jesus is with us, just as He was then, is now, and will be forevermore, no matter the lands that we leave, the oceans we cross, nor the shores upon which we arrive. Until then, I say, let’s be still and pray, be Christ’s messengers of reconciliation and peace, and trust in the power of God to heal and save us. Amen.

1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49
Psalm 9:9-20
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
Mark 4:35-41

Let us pray: O God of peace, who has taught us

that in returning and rest we shall be saved,

in quietness and confidence shall be our strength,

by the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray,

that we may be still and know that You are God. Amen.

Growing Seeds and Shrubs

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        St. Paul's Lynnfield           Mark 4:26-34       

  

            It’s good to be with you again today, and I am grateful for Rob’s most recent invitation. Last time I was here, I had to leave quickly because my husband Paul and I were going to the Celtics basketball game against the Cleveland Cavaliers. In case you’re not a wild and crazy fan like me, you will know that the Celtics lost the playoff series against the Cavaliers in the 7th and final game - at home. The Cavaliers were then soundly defeated by the Golden State Warriors in the national playoffs. While the basketball season is officially over for now, the Celtics teamwork, training, and playing is not. Seeds are already being planted for next year; and the Celtics have a purpose: to be next year’s NBA national champions.

Do you have a purpose? Does this community of St. Paul’s have a purpose? For if you aren’t clear about why you’re part of the Jesus movement, as a member of the Christian community, then life can seem not only meaningless, but also defeating. Without a clear vision of who you are and what you have to offer, life can wear you down. You can lose your way; and there will be temptations to give up.

Jesus had a vision and a purpose, not only for himself but also for his people. He used parables to teach everyone around him; and at the very beginning of the gospel of Mark, Jesus told three parables. He pointed to the landscape in front of him and compared it to the kingdom of God. In the first parable, Jesus said, “Listen! A sower went out to sow seeds.” Some of these seeds fell on a busy path, some on rocky ground, some among thorns, and some on good soil. Presumably, the Sower is God, the seeds are God’s Word, and the soil is you and me. Jesus was asking the crowd around him, “So what kind of soil are you?”

In today’s gospel, Jesus continues with two shorter parables. In the first one, which is the second of these three, a sower scatters seed on the ground. We don’t know what kind of ground it is, but the seed grows, even though the sower, who sleeps and rises night and day, does not know how. The emphasis here is not on the sower of the seed, or the soil upon which it has landed, but rather on the growth of the seed, from its very beginning, throughout its life, and to its end at harvest time.

It is worth noting that this particular parable is found only in the gospel of Mark; and so its uniqueness begs some questions. Why did Mark include it in his gospel? What purpose did it serve? And in terms of its placement, between the first parable about the Sower and the third one about the mustard seed, why did Mark put it there, in between these two?

In the third parable Jesus talks about a tiny mustard seed, the smallest of all seeds, which grows into a great shrub. Although named, the kind of seed is not really important; rather its purpose is to grow into a shrub, something new and different and with another kind of purpose. The size of the shrub is not really important either; rather it becomes a shrub with many branches, that become resting places for birds and safe places for them to create and sustain new life. In this one tiny seed, and this one great shrub, God’s kingdom, and God’s purpose for us, is revealed.

Do you have a purpose? Does this community of St. Paul’s have a purpose? Are you a sower of seeds, or a certain type of soil, a tiny seed that grows into something new and different, or a shrub with many branches? Now, at this point, you and I may be tempted to feel bad about our sizes, our soils, our efforts, and our shrubs. Dave McNeeley asks, “Do you ever feel like your best is never good enough? Not terrible, but just not . . . enough? The mustard seed feels your pain. Despite popular imagination, the mustard seed doesn’t blossom into a sequoia-sized tree. Instead, it grows into “the largest of all vegetable plants.”

“As it turns out, though, birds don’t need sequoias, and God doesn’t need the best of the best. A good image for God’s kingdom is something small, something easy to overlook, something on the border of insignificant. It’s the little things where God’s kingdom takes root – little things like a smile, a word of kindness, the faith that God can work with the smallest gifts we have to give.” (Dave McNeely, www.d365.org, June 14, 2018)

In a book entitled Reclaiming the Great Commission, the bishop of Texas describes the characteristics of a parish, or a diocese, which is only maintaining itself, contrasted with ones that are on God’s mission. While God may love us just as we are, God also wants us to grow, just like that tiny mustard seed. People and parishes that are on God’s mission are God-centered, recognizing that God is the Creator of our Garden, the Sower of many and diverse seeds, and that Jesus is the Master Gardener. The Holy Spirit is our Miracle Gro, and despite our soils, She will make things grow even if we do not know how.

When we are people on God’s mission, like our diocesan mission strategy claims, we are willing to embrace brave change, reimagine our congregations, build relationships, and engage our world. We will try new and different things, knowing that we will make mistakes; and yet we will remain confident, for Christ urges us on. We will sleep and rise every day, trusting that God is at work.

I love to tell the story of when Paul and I lived in a farming town in Connecticut. The previous owners of our house were environmentalists who loved to create gardens and take care of them. Unfortunately, Paul and I have a different history. When we lived in Maryland, we tried to kill the weeds on our patio and killed the azalea bushes at the same time. In Atlanta, we didn’t water our grass seed and so it was scorched by the summer sun. Even so, when we moved into this house in Connecticut, Paul was excited to try gardening once again. I was not.

Reluctantly, I agreed to help, but I created my own little garden. In passive aggressive resistance, I did nothing with the garden. Sure I planted the seeds; but I didn’t water them, weed them, or protect them. I hoped to eat the fruits of Paul’s good labors, and even the fruits of my own labor, but I was unwilling to put in the hard work, or the daily care that it required. Truth be told, my heart wasn’t really in it, and so my actions betrayed my words. I relied much too heavily upon God and Paul.

Paul and I both made mistakes. The busyness of our jobs became the hard path on which our good seeds fell. I forgot to water, and the sun shriveled my green beans, while Paul’s over-watering drowned his young plants. Neither of us had prepared our soil well. There was too little soil in mine, and his soil was worn out. Weeds, pests, and thorny roots, not to mention New England rocks, often stunted our plants growth. Deer routinely crashed over Paul’s fence and destroyed his vegetables. My garden, on the other hand, unprotected by a fence, became a feast for the rabbits.

  This second parable gives me hope. Located between the Sower and the tiny mustard seed, it is good news for me! Perhaps unaware of the seeds that have been sown, or the kind of ground upon which they have landed, I still know that some seeds will sprout and grow, and I won’t know how. God will produce good things even in the worst of my soils, the hardness of my heart, the size of my garden, and the busyness of my life. And yet, Jesus also reminds me that a harvest day will come, and so He urges me on. Jesus invites me to grow and create new life.

Our Church, and our world, with all its diversity and variety, has many kinds of soil upon which God’s seeds are constantly being planted. All creatures and nations, great and small, however, will destroy some of those seeds; and so we must tend our gardens daily and protect them. Together we must weed out the seeds of discontent, despair, and destruction with unfailing regularity. As co-laborers in God’s garden, as team members of the Jesus movement, we are called for a purpose: to sow more seeds of love, to create good soil, to provide branches, to protect the fruit of our labors, and to tend our garden, trusting that God will provide the growth.

There is a book entitled Seeds of Hope, a compilation of essays by Henry Nouwen. Our seed of hope is Jesus. If we have faith, even as tiny as a mustard seed, then “nothing is impossible” for God. Out of our own tiny seeds of faith, hope, and love we too can become a great shrub. Together, we have many branches that will provide resting places and nesting spaces for God’s people of great diversity. In Christ, we can become a new creation.

When life gets too hard, the sun gets too hot, the rain is relentless, the creatures seem dangerous, the weeds are out of control, and we’re dirty and tired from our labor, it’s time to turn back to God. Each day is a new beginning in which God sows seeds of love no matter the conditions of our soils and our souls. Over time we shall grow up into the full stature of Christ until we too are ripe; and we shall even bear fruit in our old age. Our branches shall flourish like a palm tree and spread like a cedar; for we are all part of that great Tree of Life in this, God’s beautiful and eternal Garden.

Amen.

Teams, Leadership, and Conflict

2 Pentecost, June 3, 2018   

All Saints Episcopal Church, Belmont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                                     1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)

Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

2 Corinthians 4:5-12

Mark 2:23-3:6

Let us pray: Speak, Lord, for your servants are listening. Amen.

I recently came back from two conferences, which were offered by the Lombard Mennonite Peace Center, located outside of Chicago, Illinois. One was a conference on church leadership and the other was on mediation skills training. Given the state of affairs in our world, in our nation, and in our Church today, I think these trainings are timely. Not only is conflict the “new normal” in our culture, it is also as timeless as the creation of our world. Indeed, today, in the gospel of Mark, we hear about the conflict between Jesus and the leaders of his synagogue.

When Paul and I were first married almost 44 years ago, we would occasionally go to the Celtics basketball games. Now that we’re back in Boston, and living within walking distance of TD Garden, Paul and I have picked up where we left off. We have seen conflict up close and personal, with players often erupting in the passion of a competitive moment. And that was not just on the court but also in the stands as well.

Team leadership is critical to any game, government, organization, or institution. I applaud the coach of the Boston Celtics, Brad Stevens, and veteran team leader, Al Horford. Both men emphasize the importance of every individual player and the gifts that they bring to the team, even if they are not playing. They focus on positive strengths, see every game as a learning opportunity, and offer perspectives that are longer and deeper and wider than any one game or any one person. They talk about having fun, training hard, taking care of their bodies, giving their best, and being grateful for fans like Paul and me.

Paul and I were at the second playoff game on May 15, when the Celtics played against the Cleveland Cavaliers. Tension was high as the Celtics came from behind during the 3rd quarter. The roars of jubilation mingled with boos of disagreement. In one particular play, Al Horford stole the ball from a Cavaliers player and went in for an easy lay-up. Rather than trying to block the ball, the Cavaliers player pushed Horford from behind, while he was still in the air and defenseless. Horford was vulnerable to harm; for such a push could have injured him, with consequences for both him and his team.

Marcus Smart, a Celtics team member, immediately confronted the Cavaliers player on the court. The refs called a “flagrant foul” on the Cavaliers player and technical fouls on both team members for creating the chaos that followed. No matter where you were, whether you were a spectator or a player, at home or in the Garden, cheering for the Celtics or for the Cavaliers, the behavior of these two players affected everyone. There were cheers and boos all around. Later in a post-game interview, Marcus Smart said, “We’re here to play basketball, and bullies like him need to be challenged on their behavior.” To his credit, the Cavaliers player confessed his error, his lapse in judgment during the intensity of the game.

            Jesus and the religious leaders of his time were playing a game as well. Like basketball, they were following the rules that had been established by their faith community a very long time ago. The moral imperative of their laws was to do good and not harm, to preserve life and not kill. As leaders, it was their practice to debate these rules, to interpret them and revise them, and to teach others how to abide by them. The laws that began with the 10 commandments were created with the intention of helping community members keep their lives focused on loving God, loving self, and loving neighbor.

The rabbis were not only teachers of their faith but also the referees of their people. Fouls were called sins; and if these sins were intentional, they were called flagrant. If they were unintentional, simply a consequence of living with intensity and passion, then they were considered technical and yet were still called sin.

As in every game, whether it is basketball, politics, religion, or just plain life, there will be conflict. We are all guilty of sin, despite our best intentions. We are also affected by the sins of others whether we are actually playing in the game, sitting on the bench, cheering from the stands, or watching T.V. at home. Conflict is also a growth opportunity; for in every instance, we can learn something new about God, ourselves, and others.

As in basketball, there were many and various teams during the time of Jesus. Two are mentioned today in the gospel of Mark: the Pharisees and the Herodians. Each of these groups held power. The Herodians held political power, while the Pharisees held religious power. They were often at odds with one another, arguing like our political and religious leaders today, over the rules and regulations of their lives. Perhaps it’s a technicality, like a traffic violation, or a deeper core value, like defending the sanctity of life, that creates the conflict; and so finding allies is part of the process for arguing your point. Despite their disagreements, one thing that united the Pharisees and the Herodians was opposing Jesus.

Tom Long, professor emeritus of preaching at Candler School of Theology, wrote, “People who do God’s will run afoul of all who are invested in another will - (which is) their (own will). The Pharisees know full well that saving life and doing good are lawful on the Sabbath. It’s just that Jesus’ opponents are not in worship that day to fulfill God’s will. They were there to gather evidence.” After Jesus healed the man’s hand, the Pharisees “went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.”  (Christian Century, May 9, 2018) 

Today, Jesus invites them and us not only to look at the heart of the matter and conflict, but also within ourselves. What is the purpose of this law, and what are our intentions? What is the impact of our rules and rituals on other people? “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?” Jesus asked the Pharisees. Did they truly want to do good and save life or were they just hanging on to their political and religious power? 

 Jesus knew that their religious laws were intended to help the real needs of God’s people, and He was grieved at the Pharisees’ hardness of heart. If someone is suffering, perhaps with a withered hand, or a broken heart, would God not want their healing?  If someone is hungry for justice and mercy, or just a simple meal, should we not feed them to sustain their life? Was the synagogue a place for people to find God or to bump up against human barriers and meaningless rituals? Was the Sabbath a time intended to love God, themselves, and others or to find evidence in our conflicts against each other?

Churches, St. Paul tells us, are the Body of Christ; and we are all important members of that Body. In his 1st letter to the Church in Corinth, he writes, “The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” Yes, conflict will erupt everywhere because we are passionate about our needs, our wants, and our human perspectives. A withered hand and a hungry stomach are cries for help; and yet cries for help come to us daily from all parts of our Body. With God’s help, however, we can honor each other, even when we disagree. We can even love our enemies through prayer.

Conflict was everywhere and between everyone during these times in the early church; and so St. Paul reminds the church in this 2nd letter to the Corinthians that although we may be afflicted in every way, (we are not) crushed; perplexed, (we are not ) driven to despair; persecuted, (we are not) forsaken; struck down, (we are not) destroyed; (for we are) always carrying in (our) body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies.

From the very beginning of time, God, who created us in goodness, traces our journeys, knows our resting-places, and is acquainted with all our ways. Indeed, God gave us coaches, referees, and veteran team leaders to show us the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Yes, we are all clay pots; and yet, we have a treasure, an extraordinary power within us, that cannot be stopped.

That treasure is God. It is a light that shines in our darkness. It is the promise of God’s reconciling love for everyone given to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  And so, we do not proclaim ourselves but the love of God revealed to us in the person of Jesus. Even today, we are part of the Jesus movement - witnesses to our life-giving, liberating, loving God, who seeks to do us good and not to harm us, and to sustain our lives even beyond death.

During the playoff games at TD Garden, various sponsors provided t-shirts for the fans. A new one would appear on every seat in the Garden before each game. On their last game against the Cavaliers, the T-shirt had two words on them: “Game Face.” The t-shirts were a call to action. Put on your Game Face tonight, the T-shirt said; for this is the final playoff game between the Cavaliers and the Celtics.

And so, yes, Paul and I had our game faces on last Sunday night, as did all the basketball players on that court, team members on the sidelines, and all the fans wherever they were. Despite our home court advantage, our enthusiastic cheers and our heartfelt boos, our Celtics team lost. And yet, after the final buzzer, there was one last play. Cavaliers and Celtics players wandered all over the court and gave each other hugs, signs of their mutual love for the game and their respect for each other.

While the Celtics basketball season may be over for now, our Christian season is not. Like the Celtics, the long green season of our training year has just begun. Jesus was a game changer, then and now, and He has two words for us today: “Game Face!”  Get your game face on, Jesus says: Do good, save life, play by the rules, love everyone, and believe in the power of God. And don’t forget, we’re all on the same human team. Amen.