September 6th Sermon: “Lord, Teach Us To Pray”

Scripture:  Luke 11:1-4 

                1Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.’  2He said to them, ‘When you pray, say:  Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.  Your kingdom come.  Your will be done, on earth as in heaven.  3Give us each day our daily bread.  4And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.  And do not bring us into temptation, but rescue us from evil.

Sermon:  “Lord, Teach Us To Pray”

M:        We are going to do a dialogue sermon that explores the meaning of the Lord’s prayer.  This dialogue was originally written around 35 years ago by a seminary classmate of mine, Rev. Charlie Bark.  It has since been revised and adapted over the years by my mentor, Rev. Maren Tirabassi, and myself.  And, 4 years ago a writer in the church I served in Manchester, New Hampshire, Gary Trahan, offered some new edits.

            This dialogue is like a little play.  I will play the part of a person who is saying her prayers before she goes to bed at night.

M:        “Our Father, who art in heaven —“

God:    Yes.

M:        Don’t interrupt me.  I’m praying.

God:    But you called me!

M:        Called you?  I didn’t call you.  I’m praying.  “Our Father, who art in heaven —“

God:    There, you did it again.

M:        Did what?

God:    Called me.  You said, “Our Father, who art in heaven.”  Here I am, though sometimes I’m more like a mother, but that’s another story … So, what’s on your mind?

M:        Look, I didn’t mean anything by it.  I was, you know, just saying my prayers for the day.  I say the Lord’s prayer before I go to bed.  Makes me feel good.  Kind of like getting my work done.

God:    All right then, go on.

M:        “Hallowed be thy name—“

God:    Hold it.  What did you mean by that?

M:        By what?

God:    “Hallowed be thy name?”

M:        It means…  it means…  Good grief, I don’t know what it means.  How should I know?  It’s just part of a prayer.  By the way, what does it mean?

God:    It means honored, respected, holy, wonderful, blessed, yada yada yada…

M:        Hey, that makes sense.  I never thought about what “hallowed” meant before.  Can I continue? 

God:    Sure.

M:        “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

God:    Do you mean that?

M:        Sure, why not?

God:    What are you doing about it?

M:        Doing?  Nothing, I guess.  I just think it would be kind of nice if everyone down here on earth let Love rule their lives—like it does up there in heaven.  Well, I assume …

God:    Does love rule your life?

M:        Well, I go to church.

God:    That’s not what I asked you.  What about that habit of gossiping that you have? 

M:        What?

God:    And the way you lose your temper with your husband?

M:        Huh? …

God:    You’ve got a problem there. 

M:        I don’t think so…

God:    And the way you often compare yourself to other people and wish you were more like them—instead of being happy with the way I made you.

M:        Hey!  Stop picking on me!  I’m not as bad as some other people I could name—like Tim Danielson or Scott Kwarta, why don’t you go pick on them?

God:    Excuse me.  I thought you were praying for my will to be done.  If that is to happen, it will have to start with the ones who are praying for it.  Like you, for example.

M:        Oh, all right.  I guess I do have some things to work on in my life.  Now that you mention it, I could probably think of a few other things I could change. 

God:    So could I.

M:        Okay, okay.  I admit I haven’t thought about it very much until now.  But, I would like to cut out some of those things.  I really would.  I want to feel better about myself. 

God:    Then let me help you be a better self.

M:        Okay.  Okay.

God:    Good, now we’re getting somewhere.  We’ll work together, you and I.  Transformation is possible.  I am proud of you for being willing to start on this journey.

M:        Look, Lord, no offense, but I need to finish up here.  This is taking a lot longer than it usually does.  “Give us this day our daily bread.”

God:    You could stand to cut down a little on the bread.  I’ve seen you on the scale.

M:        Hey, wait a minute.  What is this, “Criticize me day?” I’m praying — I’m telling you what Jesus told us you want to hear.  This is not supposed to be a conversation!

God:    Praying is a dangerous thing.  You could wind up changed, you know.  That’s what I’m trying to get across to you.  YOU called ME, and here I am.  Ha!  “I am.”  I should write that down. … I can never find a pen when I need one.  Be that as it may, it’s too late to stop now.  Keep praying.  I’m interested in the next part of your prayer—[PAUSE]—well, go on.

M:        I’m too scared.

God:    Scared of what?

M:        I know what you’ll say.

God:    Try me and see.

M:        [SPEAKING QUICKLY, TO GET IT OVER WITH]  “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”

God:    Cough, cough … ahem …

M:        What?

God:    What about your “old friend” LuLu?

M:        See!  I knew it.  I knew you’d bring her up!  Lord, she’s told lies about me, she says one thing to my face and another thing behind my back.  She borrowed money from me two years ago and hasn’t returned a cent.  I have a right to be mad, and, boy, do I want to get even!

God:    But your prayer?  What about your prayer?  (PAUSE.)  Forgiving debts?

M:        I didn’t mean it.

God:    At least you’re honest.  But it’s not much fun carrying that heavy weight of bitterness around inside you, is it?

M:        No.  But I’ve been working on some “plans” for good ol’ LuLu…  She’ll wish she’d treated me differently!  I’ll feel better after I get even.

God:    No you won’t.  Let me tell you a secret:  you won’t feel any better.  You’ll feel worse.  Revenge isn’t sweet.  Think of how unhappy you already are about this.  Think about how much time and energy you’re wasting on someone you don’t even like anymore.  Think about how LuLu, in effect, has taken over your life.  But I … we … can change all that.

M:        We can?  How?

God:    Forgive LuLu.  Then I’ll forgive you.  Then the anger and the sin will be LuLu’s problem, and not yours.  You may never get your money back, but you will have settled your heart.

M:        But, Lord, I can’t forgive LuLu!

God:    Then I can’t forgive you.

M:        Woah.  Wait a minute.  What do you mean by forgiveness?  Do you mean forgive and forget?  Do you want me to continue giving LuLu money and let her take advantage of me?  Do you want me to be a doormat and let people walk all over me?

God:    You know I don’t want you to be a doormat.  I made you to be a person of dignity, worthy of respect, so you must respect yourself.  However, You need to let go of the anger and bitterness—it’s eating you up inside.  That is what I mean by forgiveness—letting go of the bad feelings and getting on with your life.

M:        Okay.  You’re right…  You always are.  To be honest, I still want to get back at LuLu …

God:    I know.

M:        … but more than that, I want to be the person you want me to be. 

God:    And that’s not a doormat.  That’s a welcome mat.

M:        Perspective.

God:    Perspective.

M:        I’ll try to let go—I’ll try to forgive LuLu—but you’ll have to help me.  

God:    I will.

M:        … And maybe you could help LuLu, too.  Help her to find the right road in life.  She’s bound to be pretty miserable and lonely, now that I think about it.  Anyone who does the things that she does to other people must feel pretty bad inside.  I don’t think she has any real friends.  Maybe somehow, some way, you could show her a better way to live. 

God:    There now!  Wonderful!  That was a lovely prayer—right from the heart!  How do you feel?

M:        Well, not bad.  Actually, I feel pretty good.  I think I might even sleep better tonight.  I haven’t been sleeping well lately; I guess the grudge against LuLu has been keeping me awake.  Maybe I won’t feel so tired when I get up in the morning!

God:    Bingo!  (Pause.)  Sorry, I’m multi-tasking.  Now,  you still have a prayer to finish.  Go on.

M:        Okay.  “And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

God:    Good!  Good!  I’ll do that.  Just don’t put yourself in a place where you can be tempted. 

M:        What do you mean by that?

God:    I mean, those frequent trips to the Mall where you buy too many things that you don’t need; or how about your tendency to call in sick for work because you’ve stayed out too late the night before with your friends; and what about that little — ahem — “typo” on your taxes?

M:        I can explain—

God:    No need.  I understand.

M:        You do?  I’m not sure I do.

God:    Sure you do.  Let me explain.  You get into bad situations, into trouble, and then you come to me, saying, “Lord, help me out of this mess, and I promise you, I’ll never do it again.”  You remember some of those bargains you’ve tried to make with me?

M:        Yes, don’t remind me.  I’m feeling bad about it, now that you bring it to my attention.

God:    Which bargain comes to mind?

M:        You want me to say it out loud?  Don’t you know?

God:    Yes, I do.  But humor me.

M:        The time I borrowed my sister’s new sports car, without asking, when she was away for the weekend, and I got a little scratch on the door, and I remember praying to you, “Lord, don’t let her notice the scratch, and I promise I’ll be in church on Sunday.”

God:    She didn’t notice the scratch, but you didn’t keep your promise, did you?

M:        No—and I’m sorry, I really am.  Up until now, I thought that if I just prayed the Lord’s prayer every night, then I would have fulfilled my religious obligation and that would be that.  I didn’t expect you to actually get involved!

God:    Go ahead and finish your prayer.

M:        “For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.

God:    Do you know what would bring me glory?  What would make me happy?  Truly happy?

M:        No, but I’d like to know.  I want to make you happy.  I can see that I’ve been pretty much doing what I want without thinking about what you would have me do, and living like this hasn’t made me happy.  Not really.

God:    The light dawns.

M:        I think I would be better off—I think I would even enjoy my life more—if I were following you … more closely.

God:    You just answered the question.

M:        I did?

God:    Yes, the thing that would bring me “glory” — I’m using air quotes here — is to have more people like you truly love me.  To consider me.  To think of me.  And I see that happening between you and I.  Now that some of these old habits — actually, I call them sins — are out of the way, well, there’s no telling what we can do together.

M:        Lord, let’s see what we can make of me, okay?

God:    Yes, let’s see.

M:        So that was our dialogue—a different perspective on the Lord’s Prayer.  I thank Sue Borchard, who played the part of God so well!  J 

We hope that it will give a deeper meaning to those familiar words that we are so used to saying—because, often, when we are in the habit of saying something a lot, we don’t take the time to reflect on what the words actually mean. 

So, now, we invite you to say the Lord’s Prayer with us. 

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be Thy Name
Thy kingdom come 
Thy will be done on earth
as it is in heaven 
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our debts
As we forgive our debtors`
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil. 
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.  AMEN

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Susan Borchard

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

September 6th, 2020

August 30th Sermon: “Who Is my Neighbor?"

 Introduction to Luke Reading:

Today’s New Testament Scripture reading is from the gospel of Luke, the familiar “Good Samaritan” story.  A Samaritan, in Jesus’ day, was a foreigner who lived in an area north of Jerusalem called Samaria.  This was the area that was once the “Northern Kingdom” of Israel, but when it was conquered by the Assyrians in the 8th century B.C., many foreigners moved into the area, and intermarried with each other and the Jewish people who were left behind.  So, Samaritans were people of mixed race, whose religion was a conglomeration of the various beliefs brought to the region by their ancestors.  Samaritans were considered interlopers and were not well thought of by the Jewish people as a whole.  “Priests” in this story refer to the religious leaders who presided over worship in the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, and “Levites” refer to members of the Jewish tribe from which the priests are chosen. 

Luke 10:25-37

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.  “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  He said to him, “What is written in the law?  What do you read there?”  He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”  And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

            But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”  Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.  Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.  So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.  But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.  He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them.  Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarrii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’  Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”  The lawyer said, “the one who showed him mercy.”  Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” 

Sermon Title:  “Who Is my Neighbor?"

(Note:  This week the sermon is a story—a “re-telling” of the Good Samaritan Story in contemporary terms):

A man was going down from Franklin to Boston to visit a family member in the hospital, when he fell into the hands of robbers—right there in the hospital parking garage.  The robbers stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead on the floor of the garage next to his car. 

Now, by chance, a minister was also visiting a family member in that same hospital, and, unbeknownst to him, he parked just a few spots away from where the wounded man lay.  The minister turned off his car engine and sat for a moment in the quiet of the garage.  This was the first time he had stopped all day.  It had been a very busy month, with 4 podcasts, 3 on-line seminars, 2 funerals, several people in crisis, and now his elderly aunt had been rushed to the hospital after a major car accident.  Plus, his wife was mad at him for forgetting their anniversary and missing their son’s live zoom presentation at the end of summer camp.

The minister closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for some relief from the stress he’d been feeling lately.  “Lord,” he prayed, “I’m exhausted.  It’s not like I want to stop serving you, it’s just that I need a little break.  It seems like, lately, everyone wants a piece of me.  I’m spread too thin.  Can’t you ease up on me a bit?  Isn’t there anyone else you could call on for a while?  Please…  Amen.”  The minister kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, and let out a sigh of relief, trusting that God had heard his prayer and would begin to lift some of his burdens.

He got out of his car, hit the automatic lock button on his key fob, and started to walk toward the elevator, when he heard a slight moan coming from the space between two parked cars.  It sounded like a sick animal.  Maybe a raccoon or a cat.  But when the minister went over to look, he saw the wounded man, who was curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the garage, with cuts and bruises on his arms and legs. “Oh, my God!” he prayed, and he took a step backwards.  Then he looked around quickly, to make sure the man’s attackers were not hiding nearby, waiting to pounce on another victim.  He saw no one else around, so he figured the coast was clear, but still, he did not jump to the man’s aid.  “God,” he mumbled, more or less to himself,  “I can’t handle this.  It’s too much. Too much.”  To the man he said, “I’ll go tell security that you’re up here, but I can’t help you myself.  I’m sorry. I just can’t!” and he turned and ran out of the garage as fast as his legs would carry him.

As soon as the minister disappeared down the stairwell, another car appeared from around the corner and pulled into a parking space.  It was driven by a middle-aged woman, a pillar of the church.  She had come to visit her sister, who was also a fellow church member, who had unexpectedly taken sick. 

She was glad to have found a parking space relatively close to the elevator, because being in Boston made her nervous.  From her point of view, the hospital wasn’t in a very safe neighborhood, and she had been reading in the paper about how even children in this urban area were sometimes literally caught in the crossfire between rival gangs.  The woman got out of the car quickly and locked the door behind her.  She clutched her purse close to her body and prayed that God would keep her safe as she walked briskly to the elevator. 

When she was almost to the elevator, something caught her eye in the space between two parked cars.  She gasped when she realized it was a nearly naked man, curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the garage.  He was dirty, and she could see cuts and bruises on his arms and legs.  He was barely breathing.  Then she noticed a crumpled paper bag near his head, and an empty bottle of some sort.  Her lip curled up in disgust.  “Probably another drunken, homeless drug-addict,” she thought to herself.  Still, she couldn’t just leave him there to die, despite the bad choices he had obviously made.  She pulled out her cell phone and punched in 911, but the call wouldn’t go through; there was no reception in the garage.  Just then the elevator beeped, the doors opened, and a young Asian man in faded blue jeans and a hooded sweat shirt stepped out.  His skin was dark, one eyebrow was pierced, and he had a small dragon tattooed on the side of his neck.  The woman looked at him with fear in her eyes, and, frantically pushing the numbers on her phone, she rushed past him into the elevator. 

The young man smiled kindly at the woman as she passed by, but of course, she couldn’t see his smile because he was wearing a mask!  She was clearly in a frenzy trying to make a call that wouldn’t go through.  As he looked back at her over his shoulder, he could see her practically pounding on the cell phone as the elevator door closed behind him.

He sighed to himself.  It was a lot harder living in America than he had anticipated when he first arrived to go to college a couple of years ago.  People who didn’t even know him sometimes seemed to fear him or even hate him.  He tried to dress like the young American men his age—he even got a piercing and a tattoo to fit in with his peers, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.  Maybe he should just give up, quit school and go back home, but he knew his mother was counting on him to stay, earn his degree, and get a job so he could help his family get out of the terrible poverty they had experienced for generations.

As he stood in the garage, looking out over the sea of parked cars, trying to remember exactly where he had parked the car he had borrowed so he could donate blood at the hospital, he heard a soft moaning sound.  He walked around the car in front of him, and he realized what had spooked the woman.  There was a man curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the garage, in the space between two parked cars.  There were cuts and bruises all over his body, and his eyes were almost swollen shut.  The young man’s heart went out to the wounded man.  He thought briefly about the risk of catching Covid, but he realized the man’s life could be hanging in the balance--so he would just have to take that risk.  He ran over to him, knelt by his side, and took his pulse.  It was weak, but at least the man was still alive. 

The young man wasn’t sure how much the wounded man could hear, but he remembered learning from Grey’s Anatomy reruns on T.V. that even people in comas can understand more than we think they can.  So he held the man’s hand and spoke to him.  “Don’t worry,” he said, “Help is on the way.  I’m sure of it.  A nice woman was just here, and I saw her calling security.  I’ll stay with you until they arrive.”  He wasn’t sure what else to say, but then he remembered a Buddhist mantra that his mother taught him when he was just a boy.  It was a prayer for strength.  So the young man repeated it over and over as he waited for help to arrive. 

As he knelt by the wounded man, praying for him, it occurred to the young man that the hospital security guards, whom the woman had, by now, no doubt notified, might well greet him with fear and suspicion as so many people did, might even arrest him as a suspect in the attack, but it was a risk he chose to take.   The young man’s mother had taught him that a life without compassion was not one worth living, so once again he put himself in God’s hands and continued to pray for strength—strength for the wounded man, and strength for himself.  “God help us all,” he prayed, “to be good neighbors to each other.  Amen.”

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

August 30, 2020

[Note:  An earlier version of this sermon was first written and preached by Rev. Marlayna at Annisquam Village Church in Gloucester, MA on July 15, 2007; and in Watch Hill on July 26, 2015; in Manchester, NH on Aug 21, 2016; in Manchester-by-the-Sea, MA in July, 2018.]

August 23rd Sermon: “Sharing in Forgiveness”

Scripture:  Luke 15:11-32

Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons.  The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’  So he divided his property between them.  A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.  When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need.  So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.  But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!  I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’  So he set off and went to his father.  But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.  Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’  But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’  And they began to celebrate.

“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.  He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.  He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’  Then he became angry and refused to go in.  His father came out and began to plead with him.  But he answered his father, ‘Listen!  For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’  Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”

***

Sermon:  “Sharing in Forgiveness”

“Gideon is no brother of mine!”  Jacob, the elder son, shouted at his father.  “It would have been better for all of us if he’d never come back!”  The disgust in Jacob’s voice was almost palpable.  With those words, he turned on his heel and resolutely marched away, leaving his father alone in the courtyard of their home.   His father stood and watched him go, sadness creasing the corners of his eyes.

A woman stepped out of the shadows behind the father and put her right hand on his shoulder.  She spoke lovingly, “Reuben, you have said all you can say.  Let it rest.  Later tonight, after he’s had some time to cool down, I will go and talk to our first born son.” 

Reuben reached up and clasped his wife’s hand, tears forming in his eyes.  “Naomi,” he said, “I can’t bear to lose another son,”      “I know,” she said, “I know.”

***

Later that night, Naomi found her oldest son as far away from the festivities as he could get—out in the stable tending to the livestock.  He was using a rake to spread fresh hay in a stall as she arrived.  She sat down on a bale of hay near the stall entrance and was quiet for a moment.  He kept working.

“Jacob,” she said.  “Talk to me.”

“What is there to say?”  He stopped raking and faced his mother. 

“Why are you so angry at your brother?”  She asked.  Her words acted like a spark igniting a fury in his soul. 

“Why am I so angry?  Because your youngest son--my brother-- has made a fool of all of us, especially Father.  Have you not heard the gossip in the village?  Have you not heard what they are saying behind our backs?  ‘Reuben, weak as an old woman… easier to push over than a bale of hay… Stupid old man, giving half his property to an ungrateful, little cow pie.’  “If that ingrate were my son, I would have hit him upside the head and sent him on his way with nothing but the clothes on his back!’”  Jacob banged the rake he’d been using against the side of the stall to clear the prongs of hay. 

His mother winced, then looked at the young man with love in her eyes, “I had no idea that the thoughtless words of our neighbors stung you so deeply.  I’m sorry.” 

“You should be sorry—sorry for welcoming him back!  He had his chance, and he blew it, big time.  And now he dares to come back, feigning humility, and my gullible father buys his act completely!  And what’s more, Father doesn’t just let him come back quietly, so we can keep our dignity.  No!  Father has to let the whole world know that the good-for-nothing swindler has returned— he throws him a party, with my money, no less, my share of the inheritance.  Without even consulting me!  How is that fair?!At the very least Father should have made him work off his debt before he was reinstated in the family.”

The mother shook her head.  “My son, my son.  Do you understand your father so little?  His generosity of spirit, his kindness to those in need, his willingness to forgive those who do him wrong--this strength of character makes him a man worthy of respect.”

 “Worthy of respect you say?  Ha!”  Jacob kicked at a clump of hay that had fallen off his rake.  “No.  What you described--his character flaws-- are what will bankrupt him—bankrupt all of us!”

His mother folded her hands in her lap and again shook her head.  “No, my son.  On the contrary.  Forgiving those who recognize the error of their ways is the only thing that can restore a broken relationship.  Forgiveness does not bankrupt us; it makes us whole.”

Jacob looked at his mother with tears in his eyes.  “All my life I have worked hard for our family, and I have received nothing.” 

“My son, open your eyes.  You have always had our love—  can you not share that with your brother?”

“I’m not sure I can.” The young man came over and sat next to his mother on the bale of hay.  He put his head on her shoulder and cried.  “Pray for me, Mother.  I’m not sure I can.  I’m not sure I can forgive my brother.”  Naomi put her arm around her oldest son and prayed silently that he could open his heart, even just a little bit, to let in the Light of God’s Love.  After some time had passed, and her son’s tears had dried up, she left him in the stable, and he went back to cleaning the stalls. 

As Jacob worked, he thought about his mother’s words, “Forgiveness does not bankrupt us; it makes us whole.”  He wasn’t sure that she was right.  Wasn’t sure that his brother, if forgiven, wouldn’t just turn around and make a mess of things again.  And then, where would they be?  But then a verse of Scripture popped into his head out of the blue--from Psalm 103 that he’d learned as a boy, “God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”  Perhaps God was calling him to share in his father’s forgiveness. 

***

After he had cleaned all the stalls in the stable, Jacob took a deep breath, and went off in search of his younger brother Gideon.  He found him in the living room of the house, holding a goblet of wine and singing some folk song with a group of neighborhood teenagers, including the girl next door who was playing a tambourine.  When Jacob saw Gideon, his stupid, tipsy smile, the robe and ring and new sandals that he was wearing, Jacob felt anger wash over him again like a tidal wave.  It was all Jacob could do to hold himself back from tackling his brother and wiping that stupid grin off his face.  “Perhaps God is gracious and merciful,” he thought to himself, “But clearly, I am not God.  This forgiveness thing is not going to work.”  Jacob turned to go, but his brother saw him and called out.

“Jacob!” he said.  “I need to talk to you!”  Gideon set his wine down and got up to approach his brother.  The singing stopped.  Everyone in the room stared at Jacob.

“You’re wearing my robe!” Jacob barked.  The words were barely out of his mouth when Gideon reacted.  Gideon took off the robe and laid it on the chair where he had been sitting.  He removed the ring and put it on the table.  Then bent down to untie his new sandals and set those under the chair.  Barefoot he knelt down in front of his brother and began to speak.

“I know I don’t deserve any of these things.  I’m sure you hate me, and I don’t blame you.  Up until recently, I can’t say that I ever thought much about anyone else besides myself.  I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused our parents—and caused you.  I wish I had behaved differently.  I should have.  If I could go back and change how I’ve behaved up until now—believe me, I would.  But I can’t.  All I can do now is change how I act going forward.  I want you to know that tomorrow morning—and every day after that—you will find me working in the fields with the hired hands.  I promise.  Before God and everyone here, I promise.”

Seeing him without the robe, kneeling on the floor, Jacob couldn’t help but notice how small his brother looked.  And thin.   Before he left, although he was 18, Gideon still looked like a little boy; you could still see the baby-fat on his face and around his middle.  Now, his cheekbones protruded like outcroppings in the desert, and you could count every rib.  Plus, his bare feet looked calloused and sore and dirty, as if he hadn’t worn shoes for quite some time. 

Jacob began to feel his anger slowly drain away.  He knew he should say something to his brother, but he wasn’t quite ready to fully forgive him.  “Get up,” he said.  “Tomorrow I’ll meet you in the field at sunrise.  I’ll teach you how to harvest grain.” 

I invite you now to pray with me a prayer by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn entitled, When I need forgiveness and to forgive  PAGE 34

Compassionate Creator,

You hold me with faithfulness each day,

And I’m asking for your

Forgiveness to flood my life.

I recognize in myself persistent struggles…

The same old failures…

The things I get too tired to confess again…

The things I’ve hidden for so long

I’ve convinced myself they’re

Not so wrong after all.

Thank you for your patience, God.

Please forgive and free me.

Heal my heart and liberate my mind.

Reveal to me, Lord, those I need to forgive.

From your reservoir of grace,

May new springs of healing and forgiveness

Flow into my relationship.

Carve in me a deeper kindness.

May the pain others caused--

Even pain they don’t know about--

Teach me a compassion

I would not have learned otherwise.

Loosen the hard, rigid bars

I’ve put around my heart,

And relax my expectations

With your humility and love.

Nurture a supportive space in me,

That I might give others a soft place

To land with sore hearts--

Just as you’ve done, God, for me.

I pray that all I speak,

All I do,

All I dream,

And all I confess today

Declare my love for you,

Need for you,

And commitment to follow

your way, Lord. 

Amen.

(Prayer from Ash & Starlight, p. 34)

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

August 23, 2020

Sermon first written and preached March 18, 2007 in Annisquam, MA

Edited and preached July 20, 2014 in Winchester;

Edited again and preached August 14, 2016 in Manchester, NH and Aug 7, 208 in Manchester-by-the-Sea, MA

Edited again and preached August 23, 2020 in Franklin, MA

The last few paragraphs are inspired by a piece entitled “Apologies,” written by Richard & Antra Borofsy 2010.

August 16th Sermon: “Who Gets the Bread?”

Scripture:  Matthew 15:21-28

21 Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. 22 A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”

23 Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”

24 He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

25 The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.

26 He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

27 “Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

28 Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

Sermon:  “Who Gets the Bread?”

Rather than preach a traditional sermon today, I am going to tell a story based on today’s Scripture Reading.  I decided to put myself in the place of Peter, the rough-around-the-edges disciple of Jesus who eventually became the primary leader of the early church.  I will be telling this story in the form of a monologue, imagining what Peter might have been thinking and feeling during the scene that is described in today’s reading when Jesus interacts with the Canaanite woman.  I tell this story in hope that we can all put ourselves imaginatively into this text and allow the Spirit of God to speak to our hearts, thoughts, and actions. 

Peter speaks:   

Do you know what it’s like to be tired?  And, by tired I don’t just mean physically weary.  I mean emotionally exhausted.  My friends and I--the other 11 disciples of Jesus--we had been working very long days—from sun-up to sun-down welcoming, organizing and taking care of all the people who had been flocking to see Jesus--and there were thousands of them!  Some days we didn’t even have time to take a break to eat.  Not that we minded the work.  It was always amazing to listen to Jesus and watch him pray over people and heal them--we felt so privileged to be able to help him in his ministry.  But listening to people’s needs day after day without any down time was tiring.  Plus, we had just received the devastating news that King Herod--that tyrant!-- had just put to death our friend John the Baptist.  Maybe you know the gruesome story--Herod had had John killed and actually placed his head on a platter as a present to a dancing girl!!  The horror of that news made us all sick with grief and angry beyond words. 

So when Jesus suggested that the twelve of us join him on retreat for a while--take a break to rest and grieve and pray-- we were all for it.  Leaving our boats on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, we traveled over land a-few-days’ journey and “withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon.”  I say “withdrew,” because Tyre and Sidon, as you may know, are Gentile cities on the Mediterranean Sea, more than 30 miles away from the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus’ ministry was based.  We were all looking forward to going there--to foreign cities where no one knew us or expected anything from us, where crowds would not follow us, and we could take a vacation for ourselves, grieve John’s loss and rest up after spending so much time and energy helping to meet the needs of others.

But our hopes for rest were cut short.  No sooner did we arrive in the area, than someone—a foreigner, a Canaanite woman-- recognizes Jesus.  And worse than that, just like everyone else, she wants something from him.   She runs up to him, crying out loudly, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” 

I know it sounds bad, but when the woman appears, I find myself groaning inwardly.  Is there no place we disciples can go to get away from this endless sea of need?  Now, don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I don’t care about the woman--or her daughter.  But is she really our responsibility?  She is not one of us; she is not from our country, not from Israel.  Can’t her own people take care of her?  Where’s the sick girl’s father, anyway?  Why isn’t he more involved in reducing her suffering?

All of these questions are going through my mind when Jesus stops to listen to this woman.  Now, based on my experience of Jesus up to this point, I expected him to drop everything and heal the woman’s daughter--we all did.  But, oddly enough, that’s not what he does.  Surprisingly, for once, Jesus does nothing!  “He does not answer a word.”  He just turns around and starts walking away.  At a fairly good clip.  I’m stunned, actually, for his reaction seems to be more than a little out of character.  In fact, I’m so stunned, I just stand there for a minute, watching him walk away.  And then I get over it.  “Okay,” I think to myself.  “Well, apparently, Jesus and I are on the same page.”  It feels a little odd because, to be honest, that never happens…But, if Jesus is not feeling responsible for this foreigner and her problems, hey, then I, Peter, am not going to give it another thought.    

The other disciples and I turn our collective backs on the woman and high tail it after Jesus, quickly putting distance between ourselves and the woman.  I feel pretty certain that the woman will get the hint and go back home and seek help elsewhere.

But she doesn’t.  She starts running after us.  And her cries get louder.  “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  With each cry, her voice sounds more desperate.  It’s hard to listen to--to my ears the woman’s voice sounds like the shrill yapping of a little dog.  Infuriating because it won’t stop-- and is impossible to ignore. 

It goes on for quite some time, and I start to get mad.  Why doesn’t Jesus command her to leave us alone?  After all, she is disturbing what was supposed to be our time of spiritual retreat!!  Could it be that Jesus has already started to tune out the world so he can focus more on God?  Maybe he’s already too caught up in prayer to notice her?  (He gets like that sometimes.) 

Or… Perhaps Jesus is waiting for me to take charge.  I don’t want to brag, but Jesus did change my name from Simon to Peter--which means “rock.”  He knows I am the solid leader he can count on.  Given that, I decide to be proactive and offer him a suggestion.  I jog up to the front of the group and call out to get Jesus’ attention, “Send her away, Lord, for she keeps crying out after us.”

I am pleased when Jesus seems to take my advice.  He stops, turns around and addresses the Canaanite woman. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel,” he says to her.

“That’s right,” I think to myself, “You tell her Lord.  She is not one of us.  Helping her or her people is not what God sent you to do.” 

But, once again, the woman doesn’t listen.  In fact, she ups her game.  This time, she kneels in front of him.  Pleads with him.  “Lord, help me!” she says.  There are tears in her eyes.

Honestly, at this point, I’m a bit torn.  On the one hand, I do feel bad for the woman.  She is obviously desperate and will do anything to help her daughter.  You’ve got to commend her for that.  But on the other hand, I am getting more and more annoyed that she won’t take no for an answer.  Why won’t she listen?  God has sent Jesus to help his own people, not hers.  It’s not like Jesus has an endless supply of time or healing energy.  She needs to look elsewhere.  Period.  That’s just the way things are.  She needs to accept reality.

At first, it seems like Jesus agrees with me, because he replies, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” 

Woah.  Did I hear this right?  Did Jesus just call this foreign woman a dog?  While I’ve certainly heard the racial slur “Gentile dog” on the lips of my fellow fishermen on occasion, I never, ever, would have expected Jesus to use the term!  In fact, looking around at my fellow disciples, I see that a number of jaws have dropped and eyes have widened in surprise and shock.  We are all paying attention now.

I look closely at Jesus’ face, and I’m not sure I understand what I am seeing.  His eyebrows are raised, and his lips are slightly turned up in the corners, as if he is surpressing a smile.  I don’t know how to interpret this expression, so I look at the woman, and I notice a similar expression on her face.  In fact, she’s not even bothering to try to surpress her smile.  She is grinning outright.  I really don’t know what is going on.  One minute she is crying and pleading because Jesus refuses to help her--and then the next--it’s like everything has turned 180 degrees and the two of them are sharing some kind of private joke. 

I don’t get it.  Jesus has just told her that it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs, and now, she has the audacity to contradict him: “Yes, it is, Lord,” she says, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” 

To which Jesus responds, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

At first, I have no idea what all this means--but then it hits me like a ton of bricks.  From the moment he started his ministry, Jesus has always embraced everyone on the margins of society--tax collectors, prostitutes, lepers, sinners, Samaritans, fishermen--and this woman is no different.  He didn’t call her a dog because he believed that she was one.  Just the opposite.  With her unspoken permission, he used the term to catch the attention of the rest of us who were so distracted by our own needs and blinded by our own prejudices and that we couldn’t hear the need or even see the full humanity of the woman who was willing to risk everything to help allieviate her daughter’s suffering.

And what’s more, while my behavior was selfish at best-- the woman’s behavior was exemplary!  From the moment she speaks, she uses the language of prayer.  “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me.”  She couldn’t be more reverent.  Despite being a foreigner, she chooses to use the language of the Hebrew Psalms to address Jesus, and her words make clear that--unlike so many of my friends and fellow countrymen--she understands him to be the Messiah.  Further, she falls down on her knees, in a posture of prayer and supplication and says, “Lord, help me.”  She knows who Jesus is:  the embodiment of God on earth.

And Jesus knows who she is:  a beloved child of God, as deserving of help as any of the children of Israel.  And the two of them engage in a dialog for our benefit--so they can drive that point home to the rest of us disciples, who should have known it from the start, but didn’t. 

And Jesus does so much more than just toss her crumbs.  In front of all of us, he commends her for her great faith and heals her daughter, which is confirmation that the woman is a full-fledged member of God’s family who deserves all of God’s richest blessings. 

I suddenly feel myself blush with shame.  Wasn’t it just last week Jesus had to literally reach out and save me from drowning when my faith wavered?  And his words to me were, “You of little faith…”  So much for me, Peter, being the solid rock on which Jesus could build his church…

“Lord Jesus, have mercy on me!” I pray, echoing the woman’s words.  Because isn’t that what we all need?  God’s mercy, God’s grace and forgiveness for the times when we are so focused on our own needs that we completely miss the humanity and the suffering of the people right in front of us, despite their calls for help…

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

August 16, 2020

Note:  A version of this sermon was first written and preached by Marlayna on 8/14/11; then re-written, twice, and preached again on 8/20/17.  It was re-written again in story form for 8/16/20. 

August 9th Sermon: “Where Do We Find God?”

Scripture:  Psalm 146 (NRSV)

Praise for God’s Help

1 Praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord, O my soul!
2 I will praise the Lord as long as I live;
    I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

3 Do not put your trust in princes,
    in mortals, in whom there is no help.
4 When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
    on that very day their plans perish.

5 Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
    whose hope is in the Lord their God,
6 who made heaven and earth,
    the sea, and all that is in them;
who keeps faith forever;
7     who executes justice for the oppressed;
    who gives food to the hungry.

The Lord sets the prisoners free;
8     the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;
    the Lord loves the righteous.
9 The Lord watches over the strangers;
    he upholds the orphan and the widow,
    but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

10 The Lord will reign forever,
    your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the Lord!

Sermon:  “Where Do We Find God?”

As many of you know, over the past several weeks I have been preaching a series of sermons inspired by Rabbi Harold Kushner’s 1989 book, “Who Needs God?”  In the final chapter, Rabbi Kushner shares a famous Hasidic story about a wise-man who came home from synagogue to find his little 9-year-old daughter in tears.  The wise-man asked her what was wrong, and she proceeded to tell him that she had been playing a game of hide-and-seek with her friends, but when it was her turn to hide, she hid so well, that after a while, her friends gave up looking for her.  When she finally emerged from her hiding place, she discovered that she was completely alone!  Her friends had left her behind, gone off and had started playing another game without her.   

As the wiseman comforted his daughter, who was understandably feeling abandoned and lonely, he wondered if God ever felt the way his daughter did when people abandoned God’s ways, gave up looking for God, and went off in other directions. (Kushner, p. 181-182) 

It’s a thought-provoking story, isn’t it?  And particularly thought-provoking in this Covid crisis because the primary place where most of us go to find God--our church building-- is not currently available to us.  And, what’s more, all of the necessary safety precautions for gathering in groups make it quite challenging to plan for even small numbers of people to start to gather again for worship, study, or prayer. 

While we may long for--and your church council is working hard to prepare for-- in-person gatherings again, I invite you to join me in some virtual theological reflection.  Could it be that this pandemic--despite being scary and devastating in so many ways, is also giving us religious people an opportunity to ask a question that we never would have asked otherwise because we thought we knew the answer?  And the question is: “Where do we find God?” 

Where do we find God?  If not primarily in the company of gathered believers in our church buildings, then where?  In our hearts, of course, but in virtual gatherings on the internet?  If we’d been asked this question (“where do we find God?”_ back in February, I doubt most of us would have included the internet in our answer.  I know I wouldn’t have.  But here we are.  And God is present with us--believers and seekers-- as we worship and pray and learn together.

But such gatherings of people of faith (virtual or face-to-face) are not the only place we find God.  Rabbi Kushner, quoting our scripture reading for today, Palm 146, says it this way: 

[We find God] Wherever justice is meted out to the powerless, wherever people share their bread with the hungry, extend freedom to the oppressed, [and] lend a hand to the afflicted, the lonely, and the stranger…  (Kushner, p. 203)

In other words, God is found out in the world standing next to people in the midst of their deepest need. 

Based on the wording used in this Psalm--and its reference to Isaiah 61, scholars date this Psalm to the period in Israel’s history just after they returned from exile in Babylon in the latter part of the sixth century BCE.  (Hans Weirsma, workingpreacher.com) So the references to the oppressed, the hungry, the prisoners, the blind, those who are bowed down, the strangers, the orphan, and the widow, wouldn’t just have been metaphorical or even historical references.  The person writing this psalm--and his or her community of faith--would have fit literally into all or most of these categories.  The person writing this psalm--and his/her faith community--would have known firsthand what it is like to be vulnerable and scared, incarcerated, detained, oppressed, and powerless and not know what the future holds, where their next meal was going to come from or even, perhaps, whether they were going to live or die.

It occurs to me that during this Covid pandemic--and the societal unrest we are experiencing in our country and all over the world, almost everyone is experiencing levels of vulnerability we have never felt before.  Like the exiles returning from Babylon, we--some of us for the first time--are getting a sense of what it is like to feel powerless against forces that are beyond our control, and it is scary. 

Even police forces in our country--not a category of people you generally think of when someone says the word “vulnerable”--are experiencing a level of disrespect that is unprecedented.  Paul and I have a neighbor who is an officer with the State Police, and he told us about being relocated for a while back in June to a city on the south shore where people screamed at him, spit at him, threw trash at him, and he was expected to remain professional and not react or escalate the situation.  And he did remain professional.  And calm.  But it was hard.  And the disrespect he received wasn’t right.  Police officers who are trying to do their job to protect and serve should not be treated that way.  No one should. 

And, yet, disrespect is rampant in our society.  And worse than disrespect.  Oppression.  Interestingly enough, one scholar I read this week said that the Hebrew Bible has 12 different words that are translated into English as “oppression.”  The Hebrew word used in today’s reading--  verse 7 of Psalm 146__is ashuqim and it refers to oppression that is “primarily financial.”  It is used elsewhere in the Bible in the context of “defrauding one’s neighbor” (Leviticus 6:2-4) and “withholding wages” (Deuteronomy 24:14.)  (Wil Gafney, workingpreacher.com.)  

Financial fraud and wage theft--unfair treatment and policies that keep poor people down--isn’t that part of what the protests in our cities are about?  It’s about that and other systems which function to unfairly keep black and brown people down even more than poor whites. 

Our Psalm today does not give us formulas for how to fix what is broken in the systems of our society.  But our Psalm does show us where we can find God--right there in the midst of all the suffering and oppression, disrespect and racism.  God is right there--reaching out to all who are vulnerable and hurting and--verse 8-- God is right there lifting up those who are bowed down. 

What this says to me is that I need to be out there too.  And by “out there”--I mean reaching out and building relationships--virtually and/or in socially-distanced ways with people who are bowed down  and suffering.  Even if I may be suffering some myself--I can put my suffering aside to be dealt with later in order listen to other people’s stories.  In order to hear their pain.  In order to humbly examine whether I had a part--intentionally or unintentionally--in causing some of their pain.  Or, even if I, as an individual, did not cause it, perhaps there is still something I could/can do to alleviate it--and change the systems that cause it.

Psalm 146 is an invitation for us all to find God where it may be--no, it will be--uncomfortable for us to look:  in the eyes and hearts of those who are bowed down.  May we take the risk to do so.  And may we discover--through the connections that we make, with people who  are like us and people who are different--that God will turn our pain into praise as God envelopes us all in love and compassion.  

Would you join me in a spirit of prayer as I read through a prayer by

Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn entitled, “When I’m longing for peace, within and without,”

Beautiful Spirit of Peace,

I am longing for peace within

And peace around…

For peace in families,

Peace in neighborhoods,

Peace between nations,

Peace for mother earth,

Peace in the quiet depths

Of my own soul.

Peace for people ripped open

By painful divides on

Streets and in conversations…

Peace for friends facing

Suicide or prison…

Peace for loved ones living through

Divorce and death and hard anniversaries…

Peace for people leaving home

Because their job relocated

Or the money wasn’t there anymore…

Peace for those who uncovered a shocking

Revelation about someone they loved,

And they aren’t sure what to do or whom to trust.

Peace for all whose

Greatest fears actualized

Before their eyes,

And sighs and tears

Became a daily language.

Peace that holds all of

Us in wholeness

When we’re carrying

Grief or heartache,

Chaos or tumultuous questions.

When what’s most precious to us

Was swept away in one swift wave,

Or the world’s teeming with

So much noise and busyness [and chaos]

We can’t hear ourselves think.

I ask you, Spirit of peace and hope,

To blow a breath of balm upon the wounds,

And lead us toward bone-deep belief.

Even in this challenging landscape,

May your presence bring

Peace passing all understanding

As it strengthens bodies,

Renews minds,

And heals this land.

I thank you that peace is not a dream,

But a promise.

And you are the Giver of Peace.

Amen.

 August 9, 2020

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

August 2nd Sermon: "God is with us"

Psalm 23

The Divine Shepherd

A Psalm of David.

1 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
3     he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
    for his name’s sake.

4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff—
    they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

Sermon:  “God is with us”

Psalm 23 is perhaps the best known passage of Scripture in the whole Bible.  Children are taught to memorize it in Sunday School.  We read it at the bedside of those who are very sick.  We recite it in our individual prayers when we are going through times of pain and suffering.  We read it at the funerals of those we love.  It is a strong and powerful reminder that God is at our side through thick and thin:  holding us in Steadfast Love, protecting us, guiding us, meeting all of our spiritual needs--in this life and on into eternity. 

But Psalm 23 is about more than just spiritual comfort.  I read some commentary on a website this week that challenged me--us-- to think of Psalm 23 in a different way.  Rev. Dr. David Lose, a seminary professor, writer, and pastor in Minneapolis, invites his congregation-- and the preachers who read his on-line commentary--to consider Psalm 23 as a psalm celebrating stewardship.  (Yes, you heard me correctly--stewardship.) (http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1498

Let me stop here and define what I mean by the term “stewardship.”  Most of us in mainline churches think of stewardship primarily in the context of our Fall Fund Drives, where we raise money for the church budget.  (Don’t worry; you can relax and continue to listen without trepidation--I’m not starting the Pledge Campaign early.)  Stewardship is MUCH more than raising money.   Stewardship is recognizing and giving thanks for what God has given us, and then using those gifts to bless others.

Psalm 23 begins by stating that “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”  Several scholars suggest that a better translation of the Hebrew is:  “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall lack nothing.”    (New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. IV, p. 767)  And then the Psalm goes on to describe all of the ways God meets the needs of God’s flock.  And while everything said here has a spiritual dimension, scholars encourage us to notice that it has a material dimension too.  Psalm 23 is a statement about God’s priorities and how God treats God’s flock.

For instance:  Leading the sheep in green pastures is literally feeding them.  It’s not just giving them a nice place to rest, it’s giving them green grass with rich nutrients to nourish their bodies.  Leading them by the still waters is not just giving them a quiet place in which to pray or do yoga, it is first and foremost making sure they have enough actual water to drink, to hydrate their bodies.  Leading the sheep on right paths doesn’t just mean helping the sheep lead moral lives, it means the shepherd chooses paths for the sheep where they literally won’t get stuck in nettles or stumble over rocks and or be vulnerable to predators.  (NIB, Vol. IV, p. 767 - 771).

Understanding that God’s care in this Psalm includes the material dimension as well as the spiritual dimension--has important implications for how we live.  First, it invites us to notice all of the blessings--spiritual and material-- we have in our lives. Even in the midst of a pandemic and societal unrest, God is present with us providing for our needs.  Dr. Lose recommends a practice of counting our blessings.  Literally making a list. Write down, he suggests, 10 things that you have--right now--that you are thankful for.  He recommends this practice because he contends our consumer society generally teaches us to focus on the things we lack rather than spending time enjoying the things we already have.   By writing down what we understand to be our blessings--spiritual and material, we change the focus from wanting what we do not have to being grateful for what we DO have, what God has already blessed us with.  I invite you--and me--to find some time today to actually sit down and make such a list.  To spend some time in prayer noticing, naming and praising God for the blessings already in your life.  It is a good exercise--and sharing those lists could be a fun and fruitful activity to do over dinner or zoom calls with family and friends and church members.

So that’s the first part of the stewardship message of this psalm:  noticing and giving thanks for the ways God takes care of us--spiritually and materially.   The second part is equally important:  using the gifts God has given us to bless others.

This psalm--as you heard in the introduction that Alan read--is a psalm traditionally attributed to King David, who ruled ancient Israel approximately 1000 years before the birth of Christ.  So it is a psalm understood to be written by--and for-- a king.  This is an important detail because part of the psalm’s message is to remind rulers to use the gifts God has given them in ways that bless others.  In fact, “in the ancient world, kings were known as shepherds of their people.”  (NIB, p. 767).  This psalm reminds royalty that they are to be good shepherds, modeling their rule on God’s.  In other words, they are called first and foremost to take care of the material needs of their people, making sure that their “flock” lacks nothing, has everything they need in terms of basic necessities:  food, water, shelter, protection--so they can thrive.

So, this Psalm isn’t just a psalm about how individuals need to behave before God, it is a Psalm that instructs leaders of nations how to treat the people in their care--and it provides a model by which leaders can measure how well they are doing in providing this care.

Living, as we do, in a democracy, the Psalm applies to us as well, because we share in our leaders’ responsibility of taking care of our fellow members of the flock.  

How are we doing?   How do we go about even answering this question? 

One way is to listen to the voices of people in need.  One of the things the Covid 19 pandemic has done for us as a society is that it has shined the light on places where our society and our government needs to do better job of taking care of the basic necessities of people in need.  

A non-partisan group called the Poor People’s Campaign is building on the legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and is raising up the voices of people in need across our country--black and brown people, poor white people, native Americans, LGBTQ people, citizens--naturalized and native, recent immigrants--to speak to the ways our country could do better by people in need.

Some of the statistics that appear on their website about poor people in our country are staggering.  Let me share just a few with you:

Beginning in the 1970s, wages for the bottom 80 percent of workers have remained largely stagnant and today there are 64 million people working for less than $15 an hour.

At the same time, the costs of basic needs like housing, health care and education have risen dramatically. Over the past 30 years, rents have gone up faster than income in nearly every urban area of the country. In 2016, there was no state or county in the nation where someone earning the federal minimum wage could afford a 2-bedroom apartment at market rent.

12 percent of U.S. households face unaffordable water bills. Tens of thousands of households have had their water shut off due to non-payment, precipitating homelessness, child removal and a host of medical problems…[and] at least 4 million families with children are being exposed to high levels of lead from drinking water and other sources.

https://www.poorpeoplescampaign.org/about/our-demands/

To use the words of Psalm 23, these statistics point out that millions of hardworking sheep have no access to green pastures; millions of sheep are literally drinking poison water; millions of sheep, through no fault of their own, are on paths that lead into deep debt.  These statistics are staggering--and heart-breaking--and they could lead us to throw up our hands and say, “I’m just one person, I’m not a member of congress, what could I possibly do about this?”

The first answer, of course, for Christians is to pray.  Pray to God--to Christ--our Good Shepherd and lift up to God those who are in such deep need.  The second thing we can do is continue to listen to those who are crying out--to listen to what their needs are, ask what they want, ask how we can help.  And the third thing is to act on what we hear.

We can act by continuing to financially support non-profit organizations that help meet the needs of the poor and change the systems that perpetuate poverty.

We can act by contacting those who represent us in local, state, and federal government and telling them we want justice for the poor.

We can act by continuing to exercise our responsibility to vote for candidates who see themselves as King David saw himself--loyal to God’s priority of helping the poor and oppressed.

We can act by doing all of the above.  And that is good stewardship!

Let us pray:

Dear God, you are our Good Shepherd.  You have promised to be with us through thick and thin.  You are with us when we stroll through lush, green meadows, and you are with us when we stumble along treacherous paths. 

Oh God, help us to notice your presence with us always.  Help us to count our blessings and be grateful.  AND, God, help us to do the hard, courageous, and humbling work of listening to our brothers and sisters who are crying out in need--even if, sometimes, their voices may sound strident and accusatory to our ears.

 Bless our hearing of their needs, and bless our stewardship of your resources.  May we all act in ways that bring justice, health and healing to your world.  Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA  02038

August 2, 2020

July 26th Sermon: “Can Modern People Pray?”

Psalm 73:21-27

21-24 When I was beleaguered and bitter,
    totally consumed by envy,
I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox
    in your very presence.
I’m still in your presence,
    but you’ve taken my hand.
You wisely and tenderly lead me,
    and then you bless me.

25-28 You’re all I want in heaven!
    You’re all I want on earth!
When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,
    God is rock-firm and faithful.
Look! Those who left you are falling apart!
    Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.
But I’m in the very presence of God—
    oh, how refreshing it is!
 

Matthew 18:19-20

When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action. And when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”

As you may know, I’ve been doing a sermon series on Rabbi Harold Kushner’s Who Needs God, a book that had been sitting on my bookshelf for roughly 30 years, and if there is a small silver lining to the Covid crisis for me, I finally found time to read it. 

In his chapter entitled, “Can Modern People Pray?”, Rabbi Kushner tells an absurd but true story about a man who went to church and heard a sermon about how God rewards people for being charitable and generous.  This man took the sermon to heart, and, in response, wrote a large check to his church.  But the man had an ulterior motive--he wrote the check praying and expecting God to literally reward him with a windfall of cash for being so generous.   When that didn’t happen, the man turned around and sued the minister, for making false promises.  (The lawsuit was thrown out and the man was reprimanded by the judge for taking preaching too literally.) 

Rabbi Kushner’s point in telling this story is that it illustrates how people often--consciously or unconsciously--think about prayer.  We pray about something, we act in ways we think will please God, and then we expect God to give us exactly what we want--what we’ve asked for.  Kind of like the way we thought about Santa Claus when we were kids.  We’d write out the list of what we wanted, we’d mail it to Santa, we’d do our best to be good girls and boys, and then we’d expect Santa to give us exactly what was on our list.  And we were sorely disappointed if the presents we requested were not under the tree on Christmas morning!

Which brings us to Kushner’s definition of prayer:

Prayer is not a matter of coming to God with our wish list and pleading with [God] to give us what we ask for.  Prayer is first and foremost the experience of being in the presence of God.  Whether or not we have our requests granted, whether or not we get anything to take home as a result of the encounter, we are changed by having come into the presence of God.  A person who has spent an hour or two  in the presence of God   will be a different person for some time afterward. (p. 148)

“Prayer is first and foremost the experience of being in the presence of God”--and being changed by it.

Our first Scripture reading--Psalm 73--describes this experience.  In contemporary language, the Psalmist describes himself as having been “beleaguered and bitter, totally consumed by envy,” an “ignorant dumb ox” until God took him by the hand, led him with wisdom and tenderness and blessed him.

We know from earlier in the Psalm that the reason the writer was bitter was that he saw things going on in the world that made his heart sick.  He saw arrogant, rich people speaking and acting like bullies, threatening people with violence, and getting away with it.  And getting richer in the process.  While, at the same time, the psalmist himself did his best to be an upright, moral person, but was not rewarded for it.  Instead, he struggled and suffered “a long run of bad luck.”  (verse 14, the Message.) 

But then, the Psalmist walked into the Temple, and his whole perspective changed, turned 180 degrees, so that by the end of the Psalm, he was able to claim in verse 25, “[O God,] YOU are all I want in heaven!  You are all in want on earth!”  The Psalm doesn’t tell us exactly what happened in the Temple to change his perspective from bitterness to joy--did he hear a sermon?  A Scripture reading?  A prayer?  Did he have a mystical experience?  We’re not sure, but somehow, he encountered the presence of God, and his entire outlook was changed by it.

Anne Lamott, in her book, Help, Thanks, Wow:  The Three Essential Prayers shares some examples of what it is like to pray, to experience the presence of God in unexpected ways, and be changed by it, to be moved from hopelessness to joy.  She tells the story of trying to go for a walk with two of her best friends, Barbara and Suzie, whom she hadn’t seen for a while.  Her friend Barbara had ALS (lou gherig’s disease), and Anne, the writer, was filled with what she described as “anxious sorrow” when she saw how much the disease had advanced:  Barbara was now using a walker, feeding tubes, and a computerized speaking device called Kate that worked through her iPad.

But Barbara was still up for a walk, despite the challenges of ALS, so they drove to a scenic site above San Franciso, planning to walk along a trail that was supposed to have a beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean.  With her characteristic honesty and humor, Anne Lamott describes the disappointment of what happened next:  when they got out of the car, it was cold and windy and foggy--so foggy, and they couldn’t see a thing.  Feeling hopeless, Anne turned to prayer.  Bluntly she said to God, “This is all a mess…I love these two women so much, and I had had such high hopes for connection and joy today:  Help.” (Lamott, p. 55)

To make a long story short, they got back in the car and drove around for a while.  And then Anne began to notice the presence of God in the midst of the disappointments and great sorrow she was feeling.  The sun came out.  And they got a perfect parking spot with a view where they could sit and talk.  Anne writes:

We all got so happy.  We talked about real things for an hour:  life, death, families, feeding tubes, faith.  I asked Barbara, who does not eat food anymore, “What are you most grateful for these days?”  She typed on her iPad, and Kate’s mechanical voice spoke for her:  “The beauty of nature, the birds and flowers, the beauty of friends.”

This is called radical gratitude in the face of whatever life throws at you.

I was so glad and so grateful to be there with them that day--euphoric.  (p. Lamott, p. 56)

“Prayer is first and foremost the experience of being in the presence of God”--and being changed by it.

Yet prayer is also a discipline.  It is a choice we make--to open ourselves up each day to what God wants us to hear and see and notice--to remind us of “what we have and what we might so easily take for granted and forget to be grateful for.”    (Kushner, p. 154)

Yes, you may be thinking, but is that ALL that prayer is?  An experience of God, a change in our perspective.  What about asking God for specific things?  Should we stop doing that?

No.  The Scriptures direct us to bring our needs, our wants, our heart’s desires before the Lord--and to ask God to meet those needs.  In fact, Lord’s Prayer is clear about this.  Jesus instructs his followers to ask God for daily bread, for forgiveness, for freedom from temptation. For God’s will to be done.

And the good news is that God acts in response to our questions and requests.    Our reading for today from the Gospel of Matthew, Verse 19 puts it this way:  “When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action.”

This doesn’t mean that God will be like Santa Claus, giving us exactly what we want.  As we’ve all experienced, sometimes God doesn’t answer our prayer requests the way we want God to at all, even when we ask for things that are in line with the values of Love and Justice, Healing and Reconciliation that Jesus preached.

And we may wonder why this is.  Rabbi Kushner implies that God doesn’t always answer our prayers the way we want God to--because there are some things God just can’t do.  For example, God has set up the world to run a certain way, and even God cannot intervene to change the rules and laws of nature that God had previously set up.  This is one possible explanation, and while I agree with what Rabbi Kushner says 95% of the time, this is one time I do not agree with him.  I believe that God, being God, is not limited in any way, even by the laws of nature.

I believe that sometimes God says “no” in answer to our specific prayers--not because there are limits to God’s power or God’s role--but for reasons that are beyond our comprehension.  I believe God can and does intervene in the world in response to our prayers, but when God intervenes, it is to enact God’s will, not ours.  God sees the Big Picture--the ultimate Purpose for God’s entire creation, which is to increase Love and Compassion in the world.  And for Love and Compassion to increase, sometimes what we get in response to our prayers is NOT the answer that we are looking for, not the immediate alleviation of suffering, but is rather the strength and resilience and the depth of connection with God and with one another that can only come through shared pain and sorrow.

The last verse of our scripture reading from Matthew reads, “ [Jesus says] when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”

So prayer can begin by bringing our requests before God and asking for what we want.  But it doesn’t end there.  Paradoxically, we discover that what we want is only a step on the road to what we need more than anything else--God’s presence through thick and thin.  It is this presence that we experience and celebrate when we come together to worship in Christ’s name.  Let us relish that presence right now.  Let us be refreshed by it, and let it change our disappointments, pain or bitterness into joy. 

I invite you to pray with me:

Lord Jesus, you have promised to be with us when we gather together in your name, and we feel your presence here today.  We thank you for the Scriptures, for your Word that teaches and challenges us to grow beyond where we are now.  Lord, we lift up to you the pain and suffering we see in the world and in our own lives:  from Covid and its effects, from isolation to economic downturn to racism and our struggle to even talk about racism in ways that value and respect all of your children. 

Lord, go with us out into the world.  Help us to courageously wade into the pain and struggle, despite the discomfort that it may cause us.  Help us to find “refreshment” in your presence--and in the presence of our fellow seekers throughout the world. 

In your name--and for the sake of your will--we pray. and act. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt
Franklin Federated Church
Franklin, MA
July 26, 2020

July 19th Sermon: "Accepting Forgiveness"

SCRIPTURE: 

Psalm 32, verses 1 -5

 Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—
    you get a fresh start,
    your slate’s wiped clean.

2 Count yourself lucky—
    God holds nothing against you
    and you’re holding nothing back from him.

3 When I kept it all inside,
    my bones turned to powder,

            my words became daylong groans.

4 The pressure never let up;
    all the juices of my life dried up.

5 Then I let it all out;
    I said, “I’ll make a clean breast of my failures to God.”

Suddenly the pressure was gone—
    my guilt dissolved,
    my sin disappeared.

Psalm 103:10-13

God doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve,
    nor pay us back in full for our wrongs.

As high as heaven is over the earth,
    so strong is God’s love to those who fear him.
And as far as sunrise is from sunset,
    God has separated us from our sins.

As parents feel for their children,
    God feels for those who fear him.

Sermon:  “Accepting Forgiveness”

In his book Who Needs God, Harold Kushner has a chapter on Forgiveness.  In it, he invites us to imagine the scenario of a woman named Beth, who has taken a large sum of money, several thousand dollars, out of the joint bank account she shares with her husband, but she doesn’t tell her husband that she’s taken it.  She uses the money to invest in a stock that a friend had assured her was going to take off and make them a lot of money for them.  But, of course, it doesn’t.  Two weeks later, the stock was worth only half of what Beth paid for it, and now Beth needs to tell her husband what she’s done.  She had been planning to surprise and impress him with a wonderful gift of extra cash, and now she’s got to tell him that their savings has diminished.  It’s still a surprise, but not the kind you’d want to be presenting as a gift.  So Beth can’t bring herself to tell her husband what she’s done.  Kushner describes it like this:

 “The longer she waits to tell her husband what she did, the more afraid she is of his reaction, and the more ashamed she is of what she did and of not telling him.  She finds herself growing distant from her husband, avoiding conversations with him, even as she knows that this will only make things worse when the truth finally comes out.” (p. 124)

Beth is caught between a rock and a hard place, as it were.  If she keeps her guilt a secret, holds it inside, she suffers some degree of pain and discomfort caused by the unresolved guilt and shame, which leads to a rift in her marriage.  However, if she shares her guilt with her husband, she risks suffering pain and discomfort of a different kind--the potential judgement and wrath of her husband, which she worries might be even worse than the pain that comes from holding it all in.

We’ve all experienced this dilemma to one extent or another, haven’t we?  Not that we’ve all sinned in the same way Beth has, but we’ve all sinned in some way--and felt guilty and ashamed about it, and perhaps we kept that guilt and shame to ourselves longer than we wish we had, and suffered the consequences.

Psalm 32, verse 3 describes the experience of feeling guilty like this:

3 When I kept it all inside,
    my bones turned to powder,

          my words became daylong groans.

4 The pressure never let up;
    all the juices of my life dried up.

Clearly the psalmist understood what it was like to feel guilt and shame, to keep it inside far too long--and it is not a pleasant experience.  So why do we resist letting it go?  Why do we human beings have a hard time honestly confessing our sins and accepting forgiveness?

Rabbi Kushner has a theory.  “Somewhere along the way [he says], we have picked up the idea that in order to be deserving of love and admiration, we have to be perfect…We are all afraid to admit our weaknesses, for fear that other people will use them against us.”  (p. 122) 

But here’s the thing.  That fear is powerful because it’s based on our actual experience in the world.  Who hasn’t witnessed many examples of this actually happening:

• spouses who hurt each other when they take the risk to admit vulnerabilities;
• bosses who have fired workers for owning up to something they’ve done wrong;
• patients who have “sued doctors for honestly admitting a mistake.”  (p. 122)

No wonder it’s hard to shed the burden of guilt--because when we admit our imperfections, in our society, quite often we get punished for it!

Reflecting on Kushner’s theory, it occurs to me that what he is really saying is that the burden of guilt is hard to shed because, in our society, perfection is valued above honesty.  And, it occurs to me that a consequence of this is a society full of people who are AFRAID to admit their mistakes--and, as in Beth’s case-- a society where people grow DISTANT from one another.  That distance can take different forms, depending on how people deal with their guilt and shame.  Whether they keep silent and HIDE their secrets  OR cast BLAME on someone else when the secret can’t be hidden  OR belligerently insist on their OWN righteousness regardless of the facts-- the effect is the same.  People are divided from one another, not engaging in honest reflection or conversation.

I think we can all agree that a society where people are afraid to admit mistakes and grow ever distant from one another is not something any of us want.  Right?  But the more important question is:  how do we remedy it?

Our Scripture for today gives us some clues.  It invites us to look first at how God deals with our sin, our guilt, mistakes.  Contrary to what may be our unconscious fear, God is not an ogre who relishes punishing people for their sins.  In fact, the primary word for sin in the Hebrew Bible is “pesha” which is an archery term meaning, “to miss the mark,” to miss the target. [New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. IV, p. 805]  The wonderful thing about this definition is that sin is understood to be a behavior, not a character flaw.  This is wonderful because behaviors can be changed.  People can learn and grow and move past their failures, leave their unhealthy behavior behind and become agents of blessing and healing in the world.

In fact, this is exactly what God wants for us.  The primary word used in the Bible to describe God’s character is the Hebrew word, “hesed,” which is most often translated as “steadfast love.”  Psalm 103 gives us two images that help us understand what God’s steadfast love feels like.  Verse 11 describes it as “as high as heaven is above the earth”--in other words, God’s love is infinitely strong, beyond imagining.  Further, verse 12 compares God to a loving parent.  So, putting both verses together, the Psalmist implies that God deals with our sin, guilt, and mistakes in the same way that a loving parent would deal with them--being infinitely more interested in the child learning and growing-- than in punishing the child for their failures.

Psalm 32 backs this up by saying

Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—
    you get a fresh start,
    your slate’s wiped clean.

2 Count yourself lucky—
    God holds nothing against you
    and you’re holding nothing back from him.

I was meditating on verse 2 when I was out walking the dog the other day.  That is, I was repeating it over and over in my head, praying to be open to God’s Spirit speaking through these words.  And one of the things I started to think about was the body language around the phrases in this verse that contain the word “hold.”  The first phrase is “God holds nothing against you.”  I thought about how someone might act out this phrase, pantomime it, and I thought to get the meaning across, one would first have to act out its opposite.  To hold something against someone else, I pictured holding both arms out in front of me, scowling slightly, maybe almost sneering, literally keeping someone at arms length, not letting them close.  BUT, holding NOTHING against someone would be just the opposite:  stretching arms out wide, smiling, inviting an embrace.  That’s what God does for us!  God drops whatever it is that we’ve done that could cause a rift between us and opens arms wide in an extravagant welcome.

The second phrase in this verse is “and you’re holding nothing back from him.”  Again, I thought to get the meaning across through pantomime, I might need to start with its opposite:  Holding something back from someone I pictured fists clenched and arms wrapped tightly around my body, shoulders hunched, head partially turned away and down, eyes mostly averted.  Clinging onto something--and not in a good way.  Protecting oneself out of fear and shame.  But the phrase used here is you’re holding  NOTHING back from God, which involves a beautiful release.  Shoulders going back, standing up straighter, fists unclenching, eyes looking up, arms unfurling until they are open to accept an embrace.

I know that right now we are in the midst of a pandemic, and embracing people beyond our immediately family or small group is not something we are doing right now.  And rightly so.  But how wonderful those first hugs will be when we finally can give and receive them safely!!  Something to look forward to!!

This body language is a metaphor of how God calls us to be in community:  holding nothing against one another, holding nothing back.  Or as the Apostle Paul phrases it in Ephesians 4, “speaking the truth in love,” so that we can mature in Christ.

One of the gifts that the church can give to the world is to model a community where we are not afraid to admit our mistakes to one another, where we see ourselves and each other as brothers and sisters in Christ, fellow human beings loved and forgiven by God.  And, when someone takes that scary step of admitting a mistake, then we can model how to accept that honest admission with grace instead of judgment, figuring out a way to move into the future together in ways that build each other up.   Living into the “fresh start” that the Scripture talks about. 

Let me give you an example of how that could work, from Kushner’s book.  Back to Beth, the woman I mentioned at the beginning of this sermon, who took money from the joint bank account she shared with her husband without telling him and gambled with it on the stock market and lost. And then compounded her sin and shame by continuing to keep what she did a secret.  Beth was afraid that her husband “might lose his temper, throw things, yell at her” say something like, ‘You’re a thief and a liar!  How can I ever trust you again?’”  But Kusher suggests:  what if Beth’s husband responds with grace, and says something like:

“You should have told me about it… I know you meant well, you wanted to surprise and impress me, but you really went about it the wrong way.  Let’s sit down and figure out what we can cut out of our budget to replace what we’ve lost.”

What I noticed most about that response was how the pronouns moved from “you” to “we.”  From, “you should have told me about it,” to “let us figure out what we” can do.

I dare say that is God’s response when we confess our sins.  The response of steadfast love.  The response that invites engagement and connection and offers to work with the person who has sinned so that together they--we-- can create a solution that helps everyone to grow and thrive.

Let me close with a prayer by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn entitled, When I need forgiveness and to forgive p. 34

Compassionate Creator,

You hold me with faithfulness each day,

And I’m asking for your

Forgiveness to flood my life.

I recognize in myself persistent struggles…

The same old failures…

The things I get too tired to confess again…

The things I’ve hidden for so long

I’ve convinced myself they’re

Not so wrong after all.

Thank you for your patience, God.

Pleae forgive and free me.

Heal my heart and liberate my mind.

Reveal to me, Lord, those I need to forgive.

From your reservoir of grace,

May new springs of healing and forgiveness

Flow into my relationship.

Carve in me a deeper kindness.

May the pain others caused--

Even pain they don’t know about--

Teach me a compassion

I would not have learned otherwise.

Loosen the hard, rigid bars

I’ve put around my heart,

And relax my expectations

With your humility and love.

Nurture a supportive space in me,

That I might give others a soft place

To land with sore hearts--

Just as you’ve done, God, for me.

I pray that all I speak,

All I do,

All I dream,

And all I confess today

Declare my love for you,

Need for you,

And commitment to follow

your way, Lord. 

Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

July 19, 2020

 Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—
    you get a fresh start,
    your slate’s wiped clean.

2 Count yourself lucky—
    God holds nothing against you
    and you’re holding nothing back from him.

3 When I kept it all inside,
    my bones turned to powder,

            my words became daylong groans.

4 The pressure never let up;
    all the juices of my life dried up.

5 Then I let it all out;
    I said, “I’ll make a clean breast of my failures to God.”

Suddenly the pressure was gone—
    my guilt dissolved,
    my sin disappeared.

Psalm 103:10-13

God doesn’t treat us as our sins deserve,
    nor pay us back in full for our wrongs.

As high as heaven is over the earth,
    so strong is God’s love to those who fear him.
And as far as sunrise is from sunset,
    God has separated us from our sins.

As parents feel for their children,
    God feels for those who fear him.

Sermon:  “Accepting Forgiveness”

In his book Who Needs God, Harold Kushner has a chapter on Forgiveness.  In it, he invites us to imagine the scenario of a woman named Beth, who has taken a large sum of money, several thousand dollars, out of the joint bank account she shares with her husband, but she doesn’t tell her husband that she’s taken it.  She uses the money to invest in a stock that a friend had assured her was going to take off and make them a lot of money for them.  But, of course, it doesn’t.  Two weeks later, the stock was worth only half of what Beth paid for it, and now Beth needs to tell her husband what she’s done.  She had been planning to surprise and impress him with a wonderful gift of extra cash, and now she’s got to tell him that their savings has diminished.  It’s still a surprise, but not the kind you’d want to be presenting as a gift.  So Beth can’t bring herself to tell her husband what she’s done.  Kushner describes it like this:

 “The longer she waits to tell her husband what she did, the more afraid she is of his reaction, and the more ashamed she is of what she did and of not telling him.  She finds herself growing distant from her husband, avoiding conversations with him, even as she knows that this will only make things worse when the truth finally comes out.” (p. 124)

Beth is caught between a rock and a hard place, as it were.  If she keeps her guilt a secret, holds it inside, she suffers some degree of pain and discomfort caused by the unresolved guilt and shame, which leads to a rift in her marriage.  However, if she shares her guilt with her husband, she risks suffering pain and discomfort of a different kind--the potential judgement and wrath of her husband, which she worries might be even worse than the pain that comes from holding it all in. 

We’ve all experienced this dilemma to one extent or another, haven’t we?  Not that we’ve all sinned in the same way Beth has, but we’ve all sinned in some way--and felt guilty and ashamed about it, and perhaps we kept that guilt and shame to ourselves longer than we wish we had, and suffered the consequences.

Psalm 32, verse 3 describes the experience of feeling guilty like this:

3 When I kept it all inside,
    my bones turned to powder,

          my words became daylong groans.

4 The pressure never let up;
    all the juices of my life dried up.

Clearly the psalmist understood what it was like to feel guilt and shame, to keep it inside far too long--and it is not a pleasant experience.  So why do we resist letting it go?  Why do we human beings have a hard time honestly confessing our sins and accepting forgiveness? 

Rabbi Kushner has a theory.  “Somewhere along the way [he says], we have picked up the idea that in order to be deserving of love and admiration, we have to be perfect…We are all afraid to admit our weaknesses, for fear that other people will use them against us.”  (p. 122) 

But here’s the thing.  That fear is powerful because it’s based on our actual experience in the world.  Who hasn’t witnessed many examples of this actually happening:

·        spouses who hurt each other when they take the risk to admit vulnerabilities;

·        bosses who have fired workers for owning up to something they’ve done wrong;

·        patients who have “sued doctors for honestly admitting a mistake.”  (p. 122)

No wonder it’s hard to shed the burden of guilt--because when we admit our imperfections, in our society, quite often we get punished for it! 

Reflecting on Kushner’s theory, it occurs to me that what he is really saying is that the burden of guilt is hard to shed because, in our society, perfection is valued above honesty.  And, it occurs to me that a consequence of this is a society full of people who are AFRAID to admit their mistakes--and, as in Beth’s case-- a society where people grow DISTANT from one another.  That distance can take different forms, depending on how people deal with their guilt and shame.  Whether they keep silent and HIDE their secrets    OR cast BLAME on someone else when the secret can’t be hidden    OR belligerently insist on their OWN righteousness regardless of the facts-- the effect is the same.  People are divided from one another, not engaging in honest reflection or conversation. 

I think we can all agree that a society where people are afraid to admit mistakes and grow ever distant from one another is not something any of us want.  Right?  But the more important question is:  how do we remedy it?

Our Scripture for today gives us some clues.  It invites us to look first at how God deals with our sin, our guilt, mistakes.  Contrary to what may be our unconscious fear, God is not an ogre who relishes punishing people for their sins.  In fact, the primary word for sin in the Hebrew Bible is “pesha” which is an archery term meaning, “to miss the mark,” to miss the target. [New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. IV, p. 805]  The wonderful thing about this definition is that sin is understood to be a behavior, not a character flaw.  This is wonderful because behaviors can be changed.  People can learn and grow and move past their failures, leave their unhealthy behavior behind and become agents of blessing and healing in the world.

In fact, this is exactly what God wants for us.  The primary word used in the Bible to describe God’s character is the Hebrew word, “hesed,” which is most often translated as “steadfast love.”  Psalm 103 gives us two images that help us understand what God’s steadfast love feels like.  Verse 11 describes it as “as high as heaven is above the earth”--in other words, God’s love is infinitely strong, beyond imagining.  Further, verse 12 compares God to a loving parent.  So, putting both verses together, the Psalmist implies that God deals with our sin, guilt, and mistakes in the same way that a loving parent would deal with them--being infinitely more interested in the child learning and growing-- than in punishing the child for their failures.

Psalm 32 backs this up by saying

Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—
    you get a fresh start,
    your slate’s wiped clean.

2 Count yourself lucky—
    God holds nothing against you
    and you’re holding nothing back from him.

I was meditating on verse 2 when I was out walking the dog the other day.  That is, I was repeating it over and over in my head, praying to be open to God’s Spirit speaking through these words.  And one of the things I started to think about was the body language around the phrases in this verse that contain the word “hold.”  The first phrase is “God holds nothing against you.”  I thought about how someone might act out this phrase, pantomime it, and I thought to get the meaning across, one would first have to act out its opposite.  To hold something against someone else, I pictured holding both arms out in front of me, scowling slightly, maybe almost sneering, literally keeping someone at arms length, not letting them close.  BUT, holding NOTHING against someone would be just the opposite:  stretching arms out wide, smiling, inviting an embrace.  That’s what God does for us!  God drops whatever it is that we’ve done that could cause a rift between us and opens arms wide in an extravagant welcome.

The second phrase in this verse is “and you’re holding nothing back from him.”  Again, I thought to get the meaning across through pantomime, I might need to start with its opposite:  Holding something back from someone I pictured fists clenched and arms wrapped tightly around my body, shoulders hunched, head partially turned away and down, eyes mostly averted.  Clinging onto something--and not in a good way.  Protecting oneself out of fear and shame.  But the phrase used here is you’re holding  NOTHING back from God, which involves a beautiful release.  Shoulders going back, standing up straighter, fists unclenching, eyes looking up, arms unfurling until they are open to accept an embrace. 

I know that right now we are in the midst of a pandemic, and embracing people beyond our immediately family or small group is not something we are doing right now.  And rightly so.  But how wonderful those first hugs will be when we finally can give and receive them safely!!  Something to look forward to!!

This body language is a metaphor of how God calls us to be in community:  holding nothing against one another, holding nothing back.  Or as the Apostle Paul phrases it in Ephesians 4, “speaking the truth in love,” so that we can mature in Christ.

One of the gifts that the church can give to the world is to model a community where we are not afraid to admit our mistakes to one another, where we see ourselves and each other as brothers and sisters in Christ, fellow human beings loved and forgiven by God.  And, when someone takes that scary step of admitting a mistake, then we can model how to accept that honest admission with grace instead of judgment, figuring out a way to move into the future together in ways that build each other up.   Living into the “fresh start” that the Scripture talks about.  

Let me give you an example of how that could work, from Kushner’s book.  Back to Beth, the woman I mentioned at the beginning of this sermon, who took money from the joint bank account she shared with her husband without telling him and gambled with it on the stock market and lost. And then compounded her sin and shame by continuing to keep what she did a secret.  Beth was afraid that her husband “might lose his temper, throw things, yell at her” say something like, ‘You’re a thief and a liar!  How can I ever trust you again?’”  But Kusher suggests:  what if Beth’s husband responds with grace, and says something like:

“You should have told me about it… I know you meant well, you wanted to surprise and impress me, but you really went about it the wrong way.  Let’s sit down and figure out what we can cut out of our budget to replace what we’ve lost.” 

What I noticed most about that response was how the pronouns moved from “you” to “we.”  From, “you should have told me about it,” to “let us figure out what we” can do. 

I dare say that is God’s response when we confess our sins.  The response of steadfast love.  The response that invites engagement and connection and offers to work with the person who has sinned so that together they--we-- can create a solution that helps everyone to grow and thrive.

Let me close with a prayer by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn entitled, When I need forgiveness and to forgive p. 34

Compassionate Creator,

You hold me with faithfulness each day,

And i’m asking for your

Forgiveness to flood my life.

I recognize in myself persistent struggles…

The same old failures…

The things I get too tired to confess again…

The things I’ve hidden for so long

I’ve convinced myself they’re

Not so wrong after all.

Thank you for your patience, God.

Pleae forgive and free me.

Heal my heart and liberate my mind.

Reveal to me, Lord, those I need to forgive.

From your reservoir of grace,

May new springs of healing and forgiveness

Flow into my relationship.

Carve in me a deeper kindness.

May the pain others caused--

Even pain they don’t know about--

Teach me a compassion

I would not have learned otherwise.

Loosen the hard, rigid bars

I’ve put around my heart,

And relax my expectations

With your humility and love.

Nurture a supportive space in me,

That I might give others a soft place

To land with sore hearts--

Just as you’ve done, God, for me.

I pray that all I speak,

All I do,

All I dream,

And all I confess today

Declare my love for you,

Need for you,

And commitment to follow

your way, Lord. 

Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA

July 19, 2020

July 12th Sermon: “Eyes with which to See the World”

Genesis 21:14-20 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

14 So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.

15 When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. 16 Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. 17 And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. 18 Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” 19 Then God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.

20 God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow.

Sermon:  “Eyes with which to See the World”

 “Hagar lifted up her voice and wept.”  So says verse 16 of today’s scripture reading.  Hagar had A LOT to weep about.  As you heard in the introduction to today’s Scripture reading, Hagar was a maid servant and also the concubine of the Patriarch Abraham.  You may know the story of how she was given to Abraham to bear him children, given to Abraham by his wife Sarah, who at the time was thought to be barren.  Hagar had no choice in the matter.  She was a foreign woman--Egyptian--owned by Abraham’s family.  She was in the position that all enslaved peoples are in--she either did what she was told, or she would be punished, in  her case, “cast out.”  And cast out meant losing everything:  food, shelter, clothing, relationships--and any hope for the future.  Being cast out meant facing almost inevitable death. 

So, in Hagar’s case, she did what she was told--she bore a child for Abraham--but she was cast out anyway.  In our Scripture reading for today, we see that she was sent into the wilderness with only 3 things:  her son, some bread, and a container of water.  And when the water ran out, she left her child in the shade and sat down near him, expecting that, after having lost everything else, she would also lose what mattered most to her:  the life of her dear son, Ishmael.

Biblical Scholar “Phyllis Trible speaks eloquently about Hagar’s becoming many things to many people…: ‘Most especially, all sorts of rejected women find their stories in her.  She is the faithful maid exploited, the black woman used by the male and abused by the female of the ruling class, the surrogate mother, the resident alien without legal recourse… the divorced mother with child, the [homeless] bag lady carrying bread and water… the self-effacing female whose own identity shrinks in service to others.’”  (Phyllis Trible quoted by Terrance E. Fretheim in New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. I, p. 490)

No matter how Hagar is seen--it is clear that she is a woman who is grieving multiple losses--and fearing the worst loss of all--the impending death of her child.  She expresses all the grief she is feeling by lifting up her voice and weeping.

Do we ever do that--or feel like doing it--lifting up our voice and weeping in grief?   I attended a UCC zoom webinar for pastors a couple of months ago, led by a therapist Rev. Dr. Claire W. Bamberg, who reminded us that the whole world is in a state of grief because of the Covid 19 pandemic.  And then she began to name some of the losses that people are going through.  It’s a list I’ve been adding to as the Pandemic goes along.  I’m sure we each have our own lists that include some, perhaps all of the following:

·        Loss of loved ones.

·        Loss of livelihood, job, business

·        Loss of human interaction in the way we have always known it:

o   Not being able to hug each other. 

o   Not being able to shake hands. 

o   Not being able to even be in the same room with more than a few people at a time. 

o   Not being able to physically attend school

·        All of which leads to an enormous loss:  NOT being able to participate fully in the rituals that mark the milestones in our lives, that give our lives meaning:  weddings, baptisms, funerals, graduations, family reunions, anniversary celebrations.

That’s a TON of loss!!  And I didn’t even name everything on my list. 

The leader of the seminar reminded us that the human reactions to all of this loss are well described by psychologist Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her famous 5 stages of the grief process:

·         Denial,

·        Anger,

·        Depression,

·        Bargaining,

·        And eventually Acceptance. 

So, all that to say, who--going through all this--wouldn’t want to lift up their voice and weep--or yell or complain or fall apart?  And the hard part of the grief we are going through now, in this pandemic, is that we don’t yet know when we will have a vaccine, and without that “end” in sight, the grief is ongoing, and we keep cycling through the first 4 stages--and it’s really hard to get to the acceptance phase. 

So, what do we do about it?  How do we handle all of the emotions that come with grief and loss that seem unending? 

Back to our Scripture story.  When Hagar lifted up her voice and wept, God heard hear.  I know that technically, in verse 17, the Scripture says that God “heard the  voice of the boy,” but my understanding of why the Scripture phrases it like this is to remind the readers of the meaning of Hagar’s son’s name:  Ishmael which is literally translated, “God hears.”  And verse 17 says, “God heard the voice of the boy where he is.” God has not forgotten Hagar or her son.  Even in the midst of the wilderness, in the midst of enormous grief and loss upon loss, God is there.  God tells her not to be afraid.  Interestingly enough, the name Hagar means “one who fears,” “the one who flees.”   (Biblestudytools.com; abarim-publications.com)  But in the middle of her fear, after she is forced to flee, God is still with her and provides for her needs.  Verse 19.  “God opened her eyes and she saw a well of water.” 

Rabbi Harold Kushner, in his book “Who needs God” comments on this passage by saying:

“ God did not make a miracle happen for Hagar as we usually understand that term.  He did not create any life-giving resources that were not there before.  He opened her eyes so that she saw the well that she had not previously noticed, and all of a sudden the same world which had looked so hopelessly cruel to her a moment before was now seen as a livable and life-sustaining place.  The well had been there all along.  The world was never really as bleak and barren a place as it had seemed to her.  But until God opened her eyes and led her to see the water, she looked at life and saw only futility and suffering.”  (p. 29)

The same is true for us.  When grief narrows our focus and all we can see in the world are the things that make us lift up our voice and weep, we need to bring those things before God.  We need to let ourselves lift up our voice and weep.  We need to cry and wail and name the pain we are feeling, we need to lament.  And, then, we need to keep praying.  Praying that God will open our eyes--not to overlook the pain--but to see that there is so much more than only pain.  God is present with us in the midst of it, and God can lift our gaze and bring healing and even joy into our lives despite our circumstances.

Rabbi Kushner puts it this way:  “it is more than a matter of whether we look at a glass and see it as half full or half empty.  It is whether faith and experience have taught us to look at a glass that is nearly empty, like Hagar’s water bottle, and believe that there are resources in the world capable of refilling it.” (p. 30)

So, as we prepare to celebrate communion together today, let us ask God to open our eyes and hearts to believe that God has provided resources in the world--abundant resources to give us hope even in the midst of grief.   And, as we go through our week, let us feel our grief, and lift that pain up to God.  AND let us consciously look for the places in our lives where God has provided wells overflowing with love and grace.  They are there; we just need eyes of faith to see them. Can we make it our spiritual work this week to name one source of such grace each day?

Let me close with a prayer/poem by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn, entitled “When I ache with hurt.”  Let us pray…

Spirit who groans with

sighs too deep for words,

I lean into and rest in those sighs.

I find in your pleas and

Petitions a home for

My ache,

My dismay,

And so much anger.

I hold your hand as you

Help me sift through

Each layer of betrayal,

My feelings of being deceived,

My temptation to turn against--

To blame, to ignore, to lose sight

Of the “you” within others,

However deeply buried.

You’ve told me you cannot heal

What I don’t give space to grieve and feel.

And, so, I trust that no

Feeling is final and forever.

That there is room and

Respect and honor

for tears and incredulity

And deep, deep sadness.

So, holy spirit, would you meld

My sighs and groans into your own,

Bringing me into a love

for you above all else?

Would you make firm the weak knees

And quench the parched voice,

That I might serve your communion,

Overflowing with peace and  healing?

Would you stretch my fingertips

To the wounds of the breaking,

Tenderly showing them

How wide your arms are?

And, would you ignite in me

Bravery to live the gospel

with new passion and intensity?

I give you thanks for your embrace

Of all I can pray and all I cannot.

And that this can be enough.

In the love and grace

Of my wounded healer…

Amen.  (from Ash and Starlight:  Prayers for the Chaos and Grace of Daily Life p. 94)

                                    Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

                                    Franklin Federated Church

                                    Franklin, MA

                                    July 12, 2020

June 28th Sermon: “A cup of cool water”

Scripture:  Matthew 10:40-42 The Message (MSG)

INTRODUCTION

Today’s Scripture Reading is from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 10, verses 40 through 42.  These verses are the concluding comments that Jesus makes to his disciples when he is teaching them about the work he has called them to do.  I will be reading from a paraphrase of the Bible called “The Message,” written by Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson, who writes in the language of contemporary culture

40-42 “We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.”

Sermon:  “A cup of cool water”

Do you ever watch, read, or listen to the daily news and feel overwhelmed?  That pretty much happens to me every day, and I’m fairly certain I’m not alone in that feeling.  I feel overwhelmed by the news because it is so clear that so much in our society is broken and needs to change in significant ways.  Our healthcare system, our education system, our criminal justice system, our economic system all have deep flaws that can cause great damage to the most vulnerable among us, yet, even when we are aware of these flaws, it is still so very difficult to change them.  How many of us have felt distressed, discouraged, thinking, “What can I, one little person, possibly do to change any of these systems, to make a positive difference in the world?” 

The disciples of Jesus’ day may have felt something similar.  In chapter 10 of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus gives the disciples instructions on what he wants them to do in the world.  A few weeks ago we read from the beginning of this chapter where Jesus sends the disciples out and instructs them to “…proclaim the good news, ‘the kingdom of heaven has come near.’  Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons,” (Matthew 10:7-8) an overwhelming job description, that’s for sure.  Even if we take it metaphorically, understanding that Jesus is calling the disciples of his day--and ours-- to join him in the work of healing and liberation, that doesn’t mean the work is easy.  Far from it.

In fact, as chapter 10 of Matthew’s Gospel goes on, Jesus describes just how hard it is.  He tells them that they will be hated, persecuted, that family members will reject them, and that some of them will be arrested and dragged into court.  Jesus also implies that some of them will literally die.  All for trying to follow Jesus and make the world a better place, doing God’s work of love, healing and liberation. 

I wonder if the disciples of the first century--hearing this--and then later experiencing the persecutions that Jesus describes, ever felt like giving up.  Ever felt like, “This is just not working--the kingdom of heaven doesn’t feel near at all.  What can I, one little person, possibly do to bring about healing or liberation, to make a positive difference in the world that is so deeply flawed?  All of my effort adds up to a drop in the bucket, at best.” 

I’m fairly certain the disciples must have felt like that at times--I’ve felt like that, haven’t you?  (No pressure, but feel free to write “yes,” in the chat if you’ve ever felt discouraged, like your work for Jesus is barely a drop in the bucket.)  I was feeling discouraged like that this week after listening to the news.  I was praying and wondering how to find energy to keep joining Jesus in the work of healing and liberation, but I had a sermon to write, so I did some research and found a very encouraging quote.  Dr. David Lose--pastor of a Lutheran Church in Minneapolis-- said this when commenting on today’s reading:

Discipleship doesn’t have to be heroic. Like all the small acts of devotion, tenderness, and forgiveness that go largely unnoticed but tend the relationships that are most important to us, so also the life of faith is composed of a thousand small gestures. Except that, according to Jesus, there is no small gesture. Anything done in faith and love has cosmic significance for the ones involved and, indeed, for the world God loves so much. [REPEAT]   https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=3265   (june 24, 2014)

And then Dr. Lose references Loren Eiseley’s story of “the star thrower.”  You’ve probably heard it.  Someone is walking down a beach at low tide, and sees thousands of starfish washed up on the sand, dying.   And then the person sees a man, picking up starfish one by one and throwing them back in the ocean, saving their lives.  But the thing is, even if the man worked all day, there is just one of him, and so he will only be able to save a small fraction of a percentage of the dying sea creatures.  Which is what the person says to him, cynically asking “Why are you bothering to do this?  You can’t hope to make any significant difference.”  To which the star thrower replies in the famous closing line of the story, “To the ones I throw back, it makes all the difference in the world.”

Back to Dr. Lose’s statement:   “According to Jesus, there is no small gesture. Anything done in faith and love has cosmic significance for the ones involved and, indeed, for the world God loves so much.” 

The Bible is very clear:  we are called to join Jesus in the work of healing and liberation, which includes--in the words of the sign out front, “Standing up, speaking up, showing up for justice”-- and working to change the systems that hurt the most vulnerable among us, who are God’s precious children.  We are also called to engage in what Dr. Lose refers to as “the small acts of devotion, tenderness, and forgiveness that go largely unnoticed but tend the relationships that are most important to us.”  In fact, when we engage in those small acts, we have no idea the difference we might make in someone’s life.  

I’ve been your interim pastor for less than a month.  (Well, two days short of a month), but I’ve already witnessed dozens of small gestures of love, care, devotion, tenderness and forgiveness that you have shown each other--and me.  Our scripture reading puts it this way:  Jesus says, “This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty…”

Now, I realize that we are in the midst of a pandemic, so literally giving a cup of cool water to someone who is thirsty may not be something we feel comfortable doing right now.  (And that’s understandable.)  So, we have to get creative in how we reach out in faith--and you are!

Here are a few examples:

-  I know many of you work hard--through phone calls and notes and emails--to stay in touch with each other during this time when in-person church is not happening.

-  Some connect groups are continuing to meet-- via zoom or email or in small, in person gatherings at a safe distance outside.

 - Your committees are still meeting via zoom and doing the work of the church.

- We continue to gather on Sundays for livestream worship and prayer, and dozens of you are involved in the email “prayer links,” lifting each other--and our neighbors--up before God in prayer.

- Your council has formed a task team who has just sent out a questionnaire asking people what they need from the church.  Please fill it out--it will help us minister to you--and help us all minister to our neighbors who may be looking for a loving, caring faith community to be part of.

As we engage in these small acts of love and care, we continue, in the words of the rainbow banner that is now hanging outside of our building, to “be the church.”  (if you haven’t yet seen the banner, please drive by and take a look at it.  Or look for a picture of it that will be posted on the website later this week.  It lists many positive ways we can do God’s work in the world.)  And, unlike the star thrower, who was working by himself, we have each other, and when we work together, Jesus’ love is present among us in ways we cannot explain, and that Love can indeed change the world for the better.  Thanks be to God!  

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

Franklin, MA 

June 28, 2020

Sermon: "God, Our Father"

Matthew 6:5-14 (The Message, a Bible Paraphrase by Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson)

INTRODUCTION [read by liturgist]:  Our Scripture reading for this morning is from the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6, verses 5-14.  I will be reading from a paraphrase of the Bible written by Rev. Dr. Eugene Peterson, who writes in the language of contemporary culture.  As we listen, Rev. Marlayna invites us to focus on how Jesus instructs us to speak to God. 

JESUS SAID:  

5 “And when you come before God, don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat?

6 “Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.

7-13 “The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They’re full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
    as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You’re in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You’re ablaze in beauty!
    Yes. Yes. Yes.

14 “In prayer there is a connection between what God does and what you do. You can’t get forgiveness from God, for instance, without also forgiving others.

Here ends the reading.  May God bless our hearing and acting on these words.

“God, Our Father”

There are a lot of little children in the neighborhood where I live, and I find it fun to watch the new dads interacting with their babies and toddlers.  I especially like to watch the faces of these new fathers when their child starts calling them “Daddy”—actually, it’s more like “DaDa”-- for the first time.  The faces of these new fathers just light up from the inside like someone turned on a floodlight inside of them—and they can’t stop beaming when they hear this little word formed on the lips of their child.  It’s great!  I’m not sure exactly why it’s so thrilling to hear that one little word, but if I were to hazard a guess, if I were to put myself in the place of a new father, I’ve got to think that it has something to do with feeling like, “Wow, this little being, this little miracle, has called me by a name which they will call no one else.  This little child just acknowledged that they are connected to me in a deeply intimate way—that I am “DaDa”-- the one who loves them, provides for them, takes care of them, protects them and guides them.  We have a bond like no other.” 

As I thought about this phenomenon—of the attachment between father and child—of the thrill that the father feels when he hears his child speak a term of endearment, I couldn’t help but wonder if God feels the same thrill when we use a similar term in our prayers…

When Jesus taught the disciples to pray, he began the prayer with the term, “Our Father.”  Now, this is not an unusual way to start a prayer.  In the first century A.D., both Jewish and Greek prayers commonly addressed God as “Father.”  (New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. VIII, p. 203.)  The twist that Jesus puts on the term is that he doesn’t use the formal term for “father” used in most prayers.  Rather, Jesus uses the Aramaic term “Abba.”  (Aramaic, as you may know, was the common language of the Jewish people that was spoken in the home, among families.)  The Aramaic term “Abba” is more accurately translated, “Daddy” or “Papa”—or even “DaDa;” it is a term of endearment and “connotes intimate, personal relationship.”  (NIB, Vol. VIII, p. 203.) 

Often when we are taught the Lord’s prayer, we think of it as a model on which our prayers should be based.  And, that it is.  But the more I read and pray and study the Lord’s Prayer, the more I am convinced that Jesus was not as concerned with teaching us what to pray—that is, what words to say, as he was with teaching us how to relate to the God to whom we’re praying.  It’s as if Jesus is saying to us, “The actual words you say to God aren’t what’s most important—the most important thing is to recognize your relationship with God.” 

As I’ve pondered what it means to be in relationship with a God we are told to call “Daddy,” it occurs to me that the relationship means different things to us as we mature in life and faith.

When we’re are a kid, our earthly Daddy is the one who loves us, provides for us, takes care of us, protects us and guides us—at least, that’s whom most Daddies try to be, and hopefully have some success at being.  And, when we’re a kid, that’s also the role God plays for us:  God loves us, provides for us, takes care of us, protects us, guides us—and also forgives us when we mess up.

As we grow up and become more independent, our relationship with our earthly Daddy begins to change.  We come to realize that our earthly father is a human being in his own right--separate from us but still connected.  So, then our relationship with our human father becomes, hopefully, more of two-way street in which we learn to give as well as receive, offer love as well as accept it.  In a word, as we mature, our relationship with our human father becomes more mutual. 

Our relationship with God, our heavenly father, changes over time in a similar way.  As we mature in faith, we come to realize that God isn’t just the anthropomorphic old man with a beard sitting on a throne in heaven looking out for us.  We come to realize that God is a being in his/her own right-- not limited by our understanding.  We realize that God is Spirit and Truth and Love.  God can be called “Mother” as well as “Father.”  We come to realize that our relationship with God is also a two-way street in which we learn to give as well as receive, offer love as well as accept it.  In a word, as we mature, our relationship with God our heavenly father becomes more mutual.  

I saw a comic strip once, years ago, where two people are sitting on a park bench, and one person is complaining about God, saying things like, “I can’t understand how God can allow war and injustice and poverty to continue to plague our world.  If God is really ‘Love,’ then why doesn’t God do something about all this?!”  In the next frame of the comic strip—it had three frames-- both people were just sitting on the bench in silence, pondering the question, “How can God allow all of these terrible things; why doesn’t God do something?”  And, then, in the final frame, the other person finally speaks, saying, “I bet God is asking you the same question.  [why don’t you do something.]”  (Which reminds me of a line from the prayer I quoted last week, attributed to St. Teresa of Avila:  Christ has…No hands, no feet on earth but yours..)

In other words, we are called as Christians not just to be loved, provided for, taken care of, protected, guided, and forgiven—but also we are called to offer love, provision, care, protection, guidance and forgiveness to our fellow human beings—because by doing so, that is the way we love God.   

This concept is not new to us.  It’s basic Christian ethics.  In another context, in a verse we can all quote by heart, Jesus sums it up it this way:  “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 19:19) And, he sums it up in yet another way when he says elsewhere, “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”  (Matthew 7:12)

These verses express the way God expects God’s children to behave. 

And this behavior--loving our neighbors-- is fairly easy to do, isn’t it? J --until it’s not. 

Loving our neighbor is easy…

Until a family member, friend or colleague repeatedly leaves us to do more than our share. 

Until we venture out to the grocery store, careful to wear our mask -- out of respect for others we might be breathing on-- only to have some stranger barrel past us in the aisle, going the wrong way, with their mask down, not respecting us enough to even consider what we might need. 

Until we come to understand that the laws and systems of our beloved country contain within them bias against black and brown people. 

When we find ourselves in situations--or systems-- when the two-way street of mutual love, provision, care, protection, guidance and forgiveness breaks down--it is frustrating and annoying at first--and then, if/when it goes on for days, weeks, years…centuries!, it becomes heart-breaking, infuriating and finally intolerable.  So what do we do about it? What does God want us to do?  The first thing is to keep praying to the God whom Jesus calls “Daddy,” and remember God loves all of his children equally.  Keep praying that God will--in the words of today’s scripture--“reveal who [God] is and set the world right.”  And then we need to remember we are God’s hands and feet.  We need to act.  We need to keep modeling the respect that we want others to show us.  And we need to keep asking for the fair treatment that our Scriptures call for--for everyone--especially for the oppressed and those on the margins of society--and we need to keep explaining why it’s important.  AND when others tell us that we are the ones who are not behaving fairly--then we need to respectfully listen to these our brothers and sisters and ask them--and God--to show us how we might need to change.   

On this Father’s Day,

·        let us re-commit ourselves to following the God whom Jesus calls “Daddy,”

·        let us re-commit ourselves to seeing all of our fellow human beings as God’s precious children, and

·        let us continue to do the sometimes very hard work of treating everyone the way we would like to be treated.  Amen. 

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church

June 21, 2020

Marlayna wrote the first version of this sermon for Father’s Day, 2008.  She continued editing it, and preached it again in 2016, 2018, and 2020. 

Sermon: “We are Called to Work with Jesus”

The Harvest Is Great, the Laborers Few

35 Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. 36 When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37 Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38 therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

The Twelve Apostles

10 Then Jesus[a] summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2 These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3 Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus;[b] 4 Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

The Mission of the Twelve

5 These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, 6 but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7 As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’[c] 8 Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers,[d] cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. 

“We are Called to Work with Jesus”

Today’s Scripture reading may sound more than a little off-putting to 21st Century ears.  Not only do some of the main images used in the text--shepherds and sheep, laborers in a harvest field--  belong to an ancient, agrarian society, but also some of the assumptions made--that disease is caused by “unclean spirits,” for instance-- belong to a pre-scientific era.  And then there is there is Jesus’ commission to the disciples in Matthew 10, verses 7 and 8:  Go out and “proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”  If that is a disciple’s job description--I mean, if Jesus intended his followers to take all that is mentioned here literally, then I dare say most--if not all-- of us would NOT be comfortable calling ourselves disciples.  I know I wouldn’t. 

And that brings up a question that we run into every time we  open the Bible--how do we interpret these ancient texts: how do we figure out how much of the text is timeless, spiritual truth that should still apply to our current lives in our current world--AND/OR how much belongs to a time and society different from ours and should be disregarded as no longer relevant?  Answering that question could be a sermon series in itself, but now suffice it to say that it  involves prayer, research, reason, common sense and humbly opening ourselves up to the guidance of the Holy Spirit of God whom we believe still speaks through ancient texts to our current world.  So, I invite you to join me in prayer right now:  “O God, may your Holy Spirit still speak to us through the words of this ancient text.  Guide us in interpretation that we might discern the difference between what is literal and what is metaphor--so that we might become better agents of your compassion in our world today.  May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all of our hearts, be pleasing in your sight, O God, our rock and our redeemer.   Amen.”

So, let us boldly and humbly dive into this text.  Matthew chapter 10, Verse 8:  “Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”  What could this mean to us today?  One commentator I read this week-Greg Carey (professor of New Testament at Lancaster theological seminary) suggests that we take Jesus’ words here as a metaphor http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=98)  Professor Carey writes: “Many ([perhaps] all?) people find themselves bound by behaviors, patterns, structures they cannot escape, often cursing themselves when they repeat the same behavior time and again.  [When we consider what Jesus’ words could mean in this context], let us imagine liberation, freedom from powers that constrain us and prevent us from living full human lives.”  [REPEAT]

In other words, Jesus calls us to join him in the work of “healing and liberation.”

I dare say that as our country continues to mourn the tragic killing of George Floyd by a man who should not have been allowed to continue to serve as a police officer due to all the complaints against him, and as more and more voices--black, brown, and white-- call out to end the racism that is built into the systems of our society, we are all becoming more aware of  the ways everyone is bound by “behaviors, patterns and structures that we cannot [seem to]  escape.”   And from these bonds--which harm all of us, but tragically harm black and brown people in ways many of us who are white have never come close to experiencing-- from these bonds we all need release. 

Jesus calls us to join him in the work of “healing and liberation.”

So, how do we do that?  How do we join Jesus in this work?  How do we even start to address all of the bonds that keep us from leading full lives?  Today’s Scripture gives us guidance.

Matthew chapter 9 Verse 36.  “when Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them.  For they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”  The path to liberation must begin with compassion.  It must begin with God’s compassion for us--and then, our compassion for one another.  When Jesus saw the crowds, as the Son of God, he had to know that these same harassed people would later reject him and demand violence, calling for his crucifixion.  Yet, still he chose to respond with care, concern, understanding and steadfast love--not changing his message or reacting with violence himself, but rather seeking the healing and release of those who were snared in harmful structures and systems.

We are called to do the same.  And it is hard!!  The behaviors, patterns, structures, systems of society took centuries to build, and we cannot change or reform them overnight.  As we’ve seen in the civil rights work in our country, systemic change takes decades, not days.  And we cannot change them by our own strength alone.  Which means that our first step in carrying out Christ’s work of healing and liberation is prayer.  Prayer for wisdom, strength, patience and-- as one of this week’s UCC devotionals said--“endurance.” (Mary Luti, Still Speaking Devotional for June 11, 2020).   We need to open our minds and hearts to the Spirit of Jesus.  We start with prayer--and we need to keep coming back to it.  We need to keep asking for Christ’s compassion to change us, to soften our hearts toward our neighbors.

And after we pray, as we pray, we need to act.  That action may look different for each of us, depending on our unique gifts and callings.  I know you know all this, and you have already been praying and acting, but sometimes it is a pastor’s job to remind all of us what we already know.  To say, “Keep praying; keep doing the work of Jesus.  And if there is new work that Jesus is calling you--calling me, calling Franklin Federated church to engage in, let us hear and follow that call from God.

  Let me give you an example.  Several members of FFC had expressed to me last week a desire to do something to confront racism, so we gathered on a zoom call to talk about possible things church members could do.  One person on that call said boldly, “we need to change the way we think.”  Peggy Maxwell recommended a book to all of us that has been changing her thinking already.  You may have seen the title in last Thursday’s all church email.  It’s called ““White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo.  I downloaded it yesterday and I am looking forward to diving in.  Maybe, if enough people are interested, we could form a discussion group around it.  If you’re interested, let me know. 

Jesus calls us to join him in the work of healing and liberation.

As we begin this interim time together, let us all be open to Christ’s leadership as we join him in this transformative work.

I want to close with a prayer by Arianne Braithwaite Lehn that speaks to this work.  It is in her book Ash & Starlight:  prayers for the chaos & grace of daily life.  This poem is entitled

When I cry for the world

Merciful Jesus,

I cry for our world.

I cry over broken bodies

And broken homes

And broken hearts.

I cry over violence

and exclusion

and indifference.

I cry most of all over the children!

Through my body and breath,

I pray for your kin-dom…

For all to have nourishing food and nurturing homes,

Edifying work and safe, skilled schools,

Compassionate healthcare and dignified wages,

Soft beds to fall into at the day’s close…

For the children to be protected,

The elderly honored,

and both hugged every single day…

For reparative justice,

Cherished diversity,

And peaceful purity in what’s

breathed, eaten, and drunk.

I cry and I pray,

Confessing the many times

I’ve declared what I deserve

Rather than asking what I could give.

I cry and I pray,

Knowing I’m complicit in the pain

And essential to the healing.

I cry and I pray,

Trusting my tears mingle with your own,

Hoping this tearful river softens and shapes

The hardest canyons of injustice--

Or at least lays the groundwork.

I pray and I act,

Moving my body and resources

Toward your kin-dom vision,

Trusting my skills and gifts

Carry forward the new, just world you imagine

And are always bringing.

I remember this work is mine to do.

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which

He walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which

He blesses all the  world…”

O Jesus, have mercy

And help me. 

Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church, UCC

Franklin, MA

June 14, 2020

Sermon: The Commissioning of the Disciples

Matthew 28:16-20 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

The Commissioning of the Disciples

16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Do you ever wonder what it might have been like to be one of Jesus’ 12 disciples?  To hear Jesus speak words of blessing directed at you; to see him stand up for the poor and the outcast and the oppressed; to witness him heal the sick and raise the dead, to taste--no, to eat to your heart’s content-- of bread and fish that he multiplies on the mountain; to be battling against a gale force wind in a boat that you fear is about to sink and then to feel the wind simply stop when Jesus climbs aboard--I imagine the disciples must have filled with awe over and over again.  And it seems to me that having this literally awesome first-hand experience of the Son of God day in and day out should have made faith easy for them, shouldn’t it?  And yet, it didn’t.

Even in our Scripture reading for this morning, which takes place after Jesus has been raised from the dead, faith is not easy.  In this passage in Matthew’s Gospel, the disciples are seeing Jesus  for the first time after the  resurrection--and yet, even as they come face to face with their resurrected redeemer, their faith  wavers.  We are told, in verse 17, that “when they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted.” 

I don’t know about you, but I confess that my first reaction when reading this scripture is a little bit judgmental.  How could any of them, at this point, still doubt Jesus?  And then i start going through the list of the disciples and wondering which one of them could have been the doubter.  Thomas, of course, is the obvious choice.  Poor guy.  To make one mistake--to shoot off  your mouth doubting the Lord-- and then have it recorded in the Gospel of John for everyone to read for 2000 years has got to stink.  But, I digress…  The commentators on this particular scripture passage are not talking about Thomas.  The phrase “but some doubted” can also be translated, “they doubted”-- meaning that “everyone doubted.”  Scholars tell us that the best interpretation of this verse is that the very same people who worshipped Jesus--all of the disciples--also doubted him.  (New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Vol. VIII, p. 502; Stanley Saunders and David Lose from textweek.com.)  Which is so human of them.

Let’s think for a minute--what causes doubt?  Speaking for myself, what causes me to doubt is when I see evidence that seems to contradict what I believe.  I imagine that the same was true for Jesus first disciples.  They believed all that Jesus taught them--that God is good, that God’s kingdom, God’s realm of love and light, justice and peace, healing and hope had come near-- and would prevail.  They believed that God would never give them more than they could handle.  And then things happened that seemed to contract those beliefs:  one of Jesus’ closest followers betrayed him; power-hungry religious leaders had him arrested; the justice system that tried him was corrupt; and his punishment was brutal--to be put to death on a cross.  It’s hard to believe in a kingdom of light and love, justice and peace, healing and hope in the face of betrayal and brutality.  I can understand why the disciples--all of them--succumbed to doubt. 

The Greek word for doubt used in our Scripture passage is “distazo.”  It means literally “being of two minds” about something.  (Stanley Saunders from textweek.com)  I think of it like this:  in one part of our mind, like the first disciples, we believe strongly that God’s kingdom will prevail, and we are willing to do all that we can to live according to Kingdom values.  But in the other, opposite part of our mind, like the disciples, we see how so much in this world is aligned against the values of God’s kingdom, and it breaks our hearts.   There is so much pain, violence, injustice.  Some of it just happens, as a consequence of living in the natural world.  Some of it is caused by people, intentionally or unintentionally.  Like the first disciples, we too have flawed systems with racism built into them.  Like the disciples, we too have power-hungry leaders whose actions spur violence against innocent people, especially against those with black and brown skin.  And then, because of all of these things, part of our mind starts to question:  maybe God’s Kingdom is not as strong as we’d hoped.  Maybe it won’t prevail after all.   We start to doubt. 

So what can we do about it?  How can we get rid of our doubt?  I don’t think we can.  And I don’t think Jesus calls us to stop doubting.  Jesus calls us to action, despite our doubts and fears.  Jesus calls us-- like he called the first disciples--to “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the  Father and of the  Son and  of the Holy Spirit, and teaching  them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” 

“Go,” says Jesus.  Go make disciples.  And in case you’re wondering if Jesus is talking about going door to door with Bibles and pamphlets, he’s not.   The word “disciple” means someone who is learning.  Learning in community how to live out the kingdom values that Jesus taught.  In other words, Jesus is saying, “Go and establish communities of people who learn together how to enact the vision of love and light, peace and justice, healing and hope that God calls us to.   Go do your part to learn how to work together to establish God’s kingdom on earth.  And make sure that it is a kingdom--a realm--made up of people from ALL nations.  People from all backgrounds.  All races.  All socio economic groups.  All sexual orientations.  All walks of life.  In other words, make sure that when you do your part to establish God’s kingdom of love and light, justice and peace, healing and hope, make sure that no one is excluded. 

Franklin Federated Church, you are in an interim time between settled pastors, and it is an interim time like no other.  Normally, in an interim time, there is a lot of change, but usually it’s just change in the local church, not in the whole society.  Our whole world is going through huge changes right now, starting with the corona pandemic, which has affected not only the physical health of 6.29 million people worldwide (statistics from Wikipedia on Jun), but has also wreaked havoc with the world economy.  In our country, it has also brought to light the racism and discrimination inherent in all our systems that makes it so much harder for black and brown people to thrive.  The changes we are going through as a world are scary--some of them are heart-breaking!-- but our faith reminds us that even in the midst of fear and violence and heartbreak, there is some good news.  Jesus tells his disciples, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”  These scary changes that our world is going through--we do not have to go through alone.  Jesus is with us.  God is with us.  The One who loves us more than we could ever ask or imagine is with us and will not let us go. 

What that means practically is that as we work and worship together, learning how to establish God’s kingdom of love and light, peace and justice, healing and hope, God will give us strength to move through the changes and thrive.  As we move into this interim time, down the line in a few months, we will engage in a formal process to figure out more specifically what Vision God is calling Franklin Federated Church to embrace.  But, in the meantime, may we continue to look to Jesus, who will give us strength despite our doubts.

Let me close with a prayer written by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn, from her book called Ash and  Starlight: prayers for the chaos and grace of daily life

This prayer is entitled, “When I need to do something scary.”

O God,

I know I need to take

this courageous next step,

But the vulnerability paralyzes me.

The status quo is unsustainable,

Yet I grasp for its hollow promises of

safety and stability.

If I don’t do the thing I know I must,

My soul will shrivel.

But if I do?

Thick insecurities cloak me, God,

With questions I’m afraid to answer:

Who am I to think i can do this?

Who am I to speak up and out?

Who am I to say you’ve directed me

Out of the boat and onto these waves?

My fear of others thwarts me, God,

With sinister    scoffs and prickly judgment.

What if they don’t believe me?

What if they judge me?

What if they think I’m ridiculous,

or arrogant, or selfish?

What if I fail?

What if I’m a fool?

Fatalism is my forte.

You promise, God, you’re the Great I AM--

The One who will be with me

As I face this scary step,

And the next one after that.

You’ll patiently prod

As I relentlessly doubt.

You’re simply inviting me

To say yes to this first step.

Dissipate the power of

My “who am I’s” as I hear your voice,

My “what if they’s” as I see your face,

My “what if I’s” as I feel your hand.

Make my feet follow my breath, God--

exhaling what was needed before,

inhaling what’s asked of me now.

Keep me walking forward,

Courageous albeit shaky.

Give me trust and faithfulness

As my guardrails.

Here we go.

Amen.

Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt

Franklin Federated Church, UCC

Franklin, MA

June 7, 2020