Our Own Soul Song

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 22, 2009 (Christ the King Sunday)

Read: John 18:33-37; Revelation 1:4b-8

Well, it’s the last Sunday in the season of Pentecost and next week we begin the season of Advent. Advent is the beginning of the church calendar year. Today is a Sunday of endings and new beginnings. Today is also traditionally known as Christ the King Sunday. Christ the King – another contrast. A contrast between what we tend to view as an exalted position – that of king; and the reality of who Jesus was and is. It is a Sunday that calls us to reflect on our own identity as well as just who we say and know Jesus to be.

In John’s gospel Pilate asks Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” and Jesus answers: “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” And later Pilate asks him again, “So you are a king?” and Jesus responds “You say that I am a king”.

Here is a similar, brief story that might help shed more light.

An Amish man was once asked by an enthusiastic young evangelist whether he had been saved, and whether he had accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior?
The gentleman replied, "Why do you ask me such a thing? I could tell you anything. Here are the names of my banker, my grocer, and my farm hands. Ask them if I've been saved."

Or this: Say a non-Christian asks, "What is truth?" We can say anything, but if our lives do not reflect our belief then our words are empty. Do we smile at those in desperate situations and say, "God loves you", then walk away and leave them to figure out what the heck that means? Or do we use our resources to express that love in a tangible way so they can experience the kingdom of truth?

Jesus could tell Pilate anything. What is important is what Pilate believes. Jesus continues: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

Truth. Jesus came into this world to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to Jesus’ voice.

In this conversation with Pilate, Jesus was attempting to get Pilate to listen to that truth that was deep within him. Pilate already sensed that Jesus shouldn’t be crucified, yet in the end, he did turn Jesus over. His actions expressed his fear that if he didn’t do this, he would lose his power, his control. Pilate didn’t trust that knowledge, that truth, that was already deep inside him. And often, we don’t either.

There is an interesting story about Soul Songs in Africa. Something to think about when we consider our relationship with God, Jesus and each other – the power of a relationship bound in respect for others and love for fellow human beings. Soul Songs.

“When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few women friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child. They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else.

When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child’s song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person’s bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life.

In the African tribe, there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment, it is LOVE, and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

That soul song is our truth, it is our identity which is grounded in the knowledge and love of God. It is our connection with Christ the King who is the Alpha and the Omega (the beginning and the end); the One who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

Are we willing to stand up for what we believe is the Truth—that love and life are stronger than might and death?

Do we believe that?

Do we believe that enough to remain passionately loyal to Jesus?

Do we believe that enough to follow Jesus—the One who went to his death, knowing the final outcome would be life: his own life, and life for all the world—including you and me?

A friend is someone who knows our song and sings it to us when we have forgotten it.

May God grant us the grace to hear our own soul song, to hear our truth, to know THE Truth, Jesus. Amen.

Our Contributions Change the World

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 8, 2009

Read: Mark 12:38-44 and Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17

Widows are prominent in today’s readings from scripture. Both Naomi and Ruth were widowed and lived a difficult life until Ruth found a partner in Boaz. As widows, they were subjected to the oppression of their times.

And in Mark we hear about the scribes who ‘devour widows’ houses’ – more oppression – and then the example of the poor widow who puts two small copper coins worth only a penny into the synagogue’s treasury. Jesus compares her contribution, out of her poverty, to the contributions of the wealthy who gave comfortably out of their wealth.

This time when I read and reflected on these scriptures, I see that the social-political-religious system matters. And it’s not so different today. This poor widow's house is being devoured by the social-religious system she is compelled to live under. It is with sadness that Jesus points to her. The scribes care about social status whereas God cares about social justice. God cares for the widow and social-religious systems probably should as well.

Jesus is pointing out the difference in motives for giving in this story. The amount is not so important. The scribes were concerned with looking good to others. The widow, on the other hand, was giving because she knew she needed to give. It wasn’t a matter of the people around her noticing her gift or even the needs of the temple treasury. It was her own recognition of a spiritual and emotional need to give something away.

This reminds me of a story of a church building project another pastor was involved in. One of the wealthier members of the congregation wanted to donate a significant sum for the project and that’s wonderful– but he wanted his family’s name put into the stained glass windows in acknowledgment.

The pastor responded by pointing out an older woman – whose name he no longer remembered. “For over forty years, this woman has brought a quarter to church every week. It’s her quarters that built the foundation of this church, and without her gift, there would be no place for your windows. I won’t put your name on the windows because her name doesn’t appear on the foundation walls.”

Some years ago, I heard a children’s story about the animals in the forest who were arguing over how much a snowflake weighs. No one seemed to know. So they thought it must weigh nothing. But the wise old owl pointed out a branch nearby. It was full of snow. But one snowflake would eventually land on it and cause the limb to break. A snowflake by itself doesn’t weigh much. But when it combines with other snowflakes it makes an incredible difference.

Like the widow’s mites, our gift alone can do nothing. But combined with the gifts of many, many others, our contributions change the world.

But it can’t happen that way if our focus is on what people will see us do. No one who tries to become a hero in battle helps win the battle, but those who work hardest to win the battle become the heroes.

A rabbi was asked, "Which act of charity is higher--giving out of obligation or giving from the heart?" What do you think?

All in the class were inclined to respond that giving from the heart had something more in it, but they knew the rabbi was going to say just the opposite, because in spiritual teaching nothing seems logical. And they were not disappointed

"Giving from the heart is a wonderful thing," the rabbi said, "It is a very high act and should never be demeaned. But there is something much more important that happens when somebody gives charity out of obligation.

"Consider who is doing the giving. When somebody gives from the heart, there is a clear sense of oneself doing something; in other words, heartfelt charity involves ego gratification.

"However, when we give out of obligation, when we give at a moment that every part of us is yelling “NO!” for one reason or another--perhaps the beneficiary is disgusting, or it is too much money, or we’re not sure what purpose our money will be used for, or any of thousands of reasons we use to avoid giving charity--then we are confronting our own egos, and giving nonetheless. Why? Because we are supposed to. And what this means is that it is not us doing the giving, rather we are vehicles through which God gives...[ David A. Cooper, Entering the Sacred Mountain: A Mystical Odyssey (Bell Tower, 1994] Hmm. The widow’s mite?

Jesus says, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength...You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these."

During the course of earning her master's degree, a woman found it necessary to commute several times a week from Victory, Vermont to the state university in Burlington, a good hundred miles away. Coming home late at night, she would see an old man sitting by the side of her road. He was always there, in sub zero temperatures, in stormy weather, no matter how late she returned. He made no acknowledgment of her passing. The snow settled on his cap and shoulders as if he were merely another gnarled old tree. She often wondered what brought him to that same spot every evening. Perhaps it was a stubborn habit, private grief or a mental disorder.

Finally, she asked a neighbor of hers, "Have you ever seen an old man who sits by the road late at night?" "Oh, yes," said her neighbor, "many times." "Is he a little touched upstairs? Does he ever go home?" The neighbor laughed and said, "He's no more touched than you or me. And he goes home right after you do. You see, he doesn't like the idea of you driving by yourself, out late, all alone on these back roads, so every night he walks out to wait for you. When he sees your taillights disappear around the bend, and he knows you're okay, he goes home to bed." (From Garret Keizer, "Watchers in the night," Christian Century, April 5, 2000)

Remember, a snowflake by itself doesn’t weigh much. But when it combines with other snowflakes it makes an incredible difference.

Our psalm today says, “Unless the Lord builds the house, their labor is in vain who build it. Unless the Lord watches over the city, in vain the watchman keeps his vigil.” Trust in the Lord. The Lord’s mercy and goodness shall last forever. Amen.

Losing Someone We Care About

By The Very Rev. Sherry Crompton

November 1, 2009 (All Saints Sunday)

Read: John 11:32-44; Revelation 21:1-6a and Isaiah 25:6-9

Most of us know what it’s like to lose someone we care about. And in today’s gospel story we hear about Lazarus, who had died. We hear about tears. There are tears in our reading from Isaiah, there are tears in our reading from Revelation where God wipes away the tears…and there are lots of tears in John’s gospel.

In John's gospel, Jesus weeps along with Mary and all the gathered mourners before he demonstrates his power over death. As Barbara Crafton writes, “People looking on were shaken, it seems, by Jesus' display of emotion. Perhaps it made him look weak in their eyes. The Gospel of John is an odd place for this glimpse of a Jesus overcome with sorrow -- the rest of the book depicts him striding through the events of his life and death like Superman, so godlike that his humanity doesn't look much like ours at all. But in the 11th chapter of John, Jesus weeps because his friend has died.

If he was truly human, he was truly mixed. We don't like our mixed nature -- we want people to be good or bad, either strong or weak. We try our best to categorize ourselves and one another, so that we will know always know to proceed. But people aren't just one thing or another; we're each a blend of warring strengths and weaknesses. We can be highly intelligent and still do something really stupid. We are both rational and irrational. We are capable of both nobility and moral shabbiness. We may be strong, but sometimes our strength fails us.

When he enters our world, Christ enters our weakness. The Greeks have a fine word for this: ekenosen, literally, "he emptied himself." He pours out his power. All power comes into this world of no power. Strength chooses to be bound by the weakness that binds us. Why? Why does God choose to live as we live, here where the people you love all die, where you die?”

Barbara continues, “I remember two men I knew years ago when I was on the waterfront. They had known each other from childhood; they were from the same tiny Calabrian town, and they were cabin mates. One was a steward, a head waiter, and the other a wiper in the engine room. Ordinarily, a wiper might be a young person working his way up in the engine department, but this man -- shy, silent, developmentally disabled, I always thought -- had been a wiper for years and, clearly, would never be anything else.

The cabin they shared was tiny and supremely uncomfortable, and the steward had a chance to take a better one for the rest of his contract. He refused it, though, choosing to stay with his friend. He had promised the man's mother to take care of him, he explained, and another cabinmate might not understand the vulnerability of his friend -- or worse, might understand it all too well and capitalize on it. So he stayed in a hard, narrow bunk in a cabin scarcely bigger than a closet, when he could have had his own cabin.

It was a small thing, I suppose -- but a seafarer is on board for months at a time. It's a hard life, and one pretty low on perks. It would have been nice to have a private space befitting his superior rank. For the sake of love, though, he bound himself with the same chains that bound his friend.

Why is there a Jesus? So God can be with us and we can be with God, even now, and so we can know it. So we can know we're not alone, no matter what happens. So we can know that we are understood. God not only loves us and our world into being, but then chooses to know our world as we learn to know it: from experience”.

Most of know of Helen Keller, she’s just one of the extraordinary blind women of history. Frazier Hunt writes in a Redbook magazine: “One July afternoon at our ranch in the Canadian Rockies I rode toward Helen Keller's cabin. Along the wagon trail that ran through a lovely wood we had stretched a wire, to guide Helen when she walked there alone, and as I turned down the trail I saw her coming.

I sat motionless while this woman who was doomed to live forever in a black and silent prison made her way briskly down the path, her face radiant. She stepped out of the woods into a sunlit open space directly in front of me and stopped by a clump of wolf willows. Gathering a handful, she breathed their strange fragrance: her sightless eyes looked up squarely into the sun, and her lips, so magically trained, pronounced the single word "Beautiful!" Then, still smiling, she walked past me.

I brushed the tears from my own inadequate eyes. For to me none of this exquisite highland had seemed beautiful. I had felt only bitter discouragement over the rejection of a piece of writing. I had eyes to see all the wonders of woods, sky and mountains, ears to hear the rushing stream and the song of the wind in the treetops. It took the sightless eyes and sealed ears of this extraordinary woman to show me beauty, and bravery.

Dating back to the third century, the church in all her wisdom has celebrated All Saints Day. This Sunday we honor the tradition as we remember and give thanks for all the beloved baptized in Christ, those among us and those who have gone before us. Today our tender hearts remember loved ones who have died, we will, at communion time have the opportunity to take a carnation and place it on the baptismal font in memory of a loved one.

In our worship we reach out across time to hold hands with Mary and Martha in their encounter with death, and at the same time we grasp the hands of one another as God continues to knit us together in the one beautiful body of Christ Jesus. And what better day than All Saints Day to baptize Evan Michael and Ryan Matthew into the community of faith. Because today, we celebrate those who have gone before us and we also celebrate all of us present here today. We are connected. It’s as if there is a long, long rope filled with knots. All different type of knots. The knots represent each of us as we habitate this earthly realm and as we pass on, the knots unfold and are not as visible; yet, they remain a part of that rope; in communion with us. As our opening hymn this morning states: ‘yet all are one in thee, for all are thine’.

And so with clasped hands, we, like Lazarus and his sisters, are called out from the shadow of death and tears into resurrection life.

Jesus calls us to this tomb to make it clear to us that death has indeed been swallowed up. It is not the end of the road. There is something more…death is the end of one form of existence and the beginning of something new and different. Jesus said, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” It is the Alpha and Omega sign that covers the bottom of our baptismal bowl.

Jesus calls us to the tomb so that we might join him when he says “Unwrap him and let him go.” Out of the shadows, out of the darkness, light shines. In the midst of death is life.

The light shines through in the strangest ways and places. Unbind the death cloths that keep you from living. Open your spiritual eyes. Believe and look around you for the glory of God. Listen and hear Jesus calling your name inviting you to live life with him. Amen.