Rev. George Miller
Exodus 16:2-15
“Muddy Sandals”
Sept 18, 2011
Years ago, I was having one of those weeks; actually more like one of those months. The local rabbi who knew about the funk I was in, shared with me a bit of Jewish Midrash.
It goes a little something like this: the Israelites were being led by through the Red Sea. It was an amazing experience. A wind sent by God pushed the waters back, creating a path for the people to walk upon.
There was an older married couple in the group. Rhoda looked around in awe.
“Look, Moesha!” she exclaimed. “Look at what God has done for us. Isn’t it the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen? Look at the water and the land, look at all the sea life and seashells all around us!”
“Yes,” said Moesha, half-heartedly. “But look at my sandals,” he complained, pointing down to his feet, “Look at how muddy they are!”
Oh, how I enjoy that story; oh, how I can relate to that story.
How many of you here have been a Moesha or know a Moesha?
We know the type, easily forgetting about the difficulties of the past to focus on a problem of the present.
A miracle can happen, a dream may come true, and instead of rejoicing they’re quick to point out what could have been improved.
I’ll give you two recent examples. After years of dealing with broken down cars, I finally have a nice, new car that has so many luxuries. For the first few months it was marvelous.
Then I begin looking around. But my car is not that color, or it’s not that make or the radio doesn’t do this or the seats don’t do that.
Shoot, I use to drive with no air conditioning and only one working speakers, but now I’m acting as if my car has muddy sandals?
Scandalous.
Or my new home. All my life I’ve had a love affair with the water and wanted to have a porch. Now I have both.
Am I completely happy? No: because since it’s summer it’s too hot to sit on the porch. I look out at the water but don’t walk down to the shore because it seems too far. Or my house isn’t as big as the homes on Lake Jackson.
Shoot, there used to be a time when I lived in a studio apartment the size of my living room with no working shower, and I’m acting as if I live in muddy sandals?
Shameful.
But you know what? I doubt I’m the only one. It’s human nature, isn’t it? To always want more then you have, to look at what others got that you don’t have, to never feel 100% satisfied.
It can be destructive to have a muddy sandals perspective. Nothing is ever right so there’s no satisfaction.
…at that same time, under the right circumstances, a little bit of the muddy sandal mentality can be helpful.
Many of the most successful entertainers and business folk are the ones who are never satisfied, never complacent, who don’t just settle for being number one.
They use their muddy sandals as a source of inspiration to do something big, something new and unheard of.
Take Walt Disney, for example. He could have stayed satisfied creating cartoon shorts, but he used his muddy sandals to create the first feature-length cartoon, then live action movies, then documentaries, then TV, then amusement parks, always evolving.
His discomfort with muddy sandals led to new technologies and allowed his company to branch out onto Broadway, radio, cruise ships.
To go out on a limb, Jesus found a way to do this as well.
Jesus may have first come to share the Good News with the Jews, but it eventually extended to the Gentiles.
He may have begun by calling 12 men, but his ministry grew to include women and to touch the lives of thousands of people.
And through the cross and the miracle of the resurrection, he was able to create a ministry that transcended space and time.
But I digress; back to the Scripture at hand.
If you recall, last week we talked about the crossing of the Red Sea. How God took a group of enslaved people, and under the leadership of Moses, set them free.
And just as they were about to be captured or killed by the Egyptian army, God found a way to part the waters so the people could pass safely through, muddy sandals and all.
But as we hear in today’s reading, something happens once they get to the other side; a new reality settles in.
The people realize that being saved from one obstacle does not remove all the other obstacles, for instead of seeing the promised land, what they see is miles and miles of…wilderness.
Empty, vast, daunting wilderness. Where are the Targets? The Best Buys? The Whole Food Markets?
There’s none of that, not even a Quickie Mart.
The wilderness is not what they expected, so in the throes of disappointment, their fears take over and they begin to complain, murmuring against Moses, their Commander in Chief, and Aaron, his co-Commander.
What are they going to eat? How will they get carbohydrates to give them energy; how will they get protein to give them strength?
Although they are not complaining to God, God hears what they are saying; and in this particular case, God finds a way to swiftly respond to their needs.
God gives them bread from heaven, and succulent quails to feast upon.
But before that happens, Aaron is told to tell the people to draw near the Lord, who has heard their complaints.
Then, as verse 10 states “…as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked towards the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud.”
I would like us to pause here for a moment…
The wilderness is a place of vast uncertainty and emptiness that can test one’s resolve.
Other words for wilderness can be dessert, a wasteland, a lonely place, not necessarily the kind of place where people want to be.
Nor the kind of place, like a mountain or a garden, in which one would expect to see the Glory of God.
But in the wilderness, where death seems to prevail, how could God possibly exist?
But God does, and not just God, but the Lord’ glory which bears the promise of food and of rest.
Note how this particular sighting of God’s glory came about. It was not from saying “Look at the water and the land, look at all the sea life and seashells all around us!”?
No, it came from the whole congregation of people murmuring “Look at how muddy our sandals are!”
…I think there is something we can learn from this scripture today, which is that it is OK to complain to God; it is OK to raise a murmuring voice, and it is OK to remind God of what we need, when we need it.
Which I realize goes against some of the popular mentality and theology of the American way.
My great-grandma was one of those people. You know the kind: you don’t complain. You accept what you got. It’s better to laugh otherwise you’ll cry. Except… I can’t ever recall her truly laughing.
There is the common notion you hear about how one should accept their circumstance; to “suck it up,” don’t complain. Think of all the others who have it worse. That God won’t give you more then you can bear.
But sometimes you can’t suck it up. Sometimes you got to complain.
Some situations are the worse thing a person can face
And far too many people are indeed weighted down with burdens that really are more then one can bear.
And when those things happen? When someone finds themselves on the other side of the Red Sea without any so-called food to eat, what can one do?
Today’s scripture would suggest to murmur. Cry out. Raise your voice. Point at your muddy sandals.
Why? Because it may just be the crying out that creates space for God to act and for God to be revealed on the horizon in a way that is so unmistakable, so reassuring, that one is empowered to move ahead.
Jesus cried out from the cross and he experienced the resurrection.
Jonah cried out and he was spit up from the belly of the whale.
The Israelites cried out and they found God in a cloud and bread from heaven.
What can we experience from the Lord if we too cry out to be heard?
Are you feeling like you are lost in the wilderness-cry out!
Is it spiritual nourishment you need- cry out.
If it’s new opportunities that you need- cry out.
If it’s healing or safety-cry out.
It it’s resurrection that you need- cry out.
Let God hear, and maybe, just maybe by complaining about our muddy sandals the Lord will give us what we need to continue moving forward.
For those of us today who feel like we are lost in the wilderness, it is Ok to murmur, it is Ok to acknowledge your muddy sandals.
But after you do, lift up your gaze to the horizon, and prepare to see the ways in which the Glory of the Lord will manifest before you.
Because God is just that good.
And maybe, just maybe, that can turn our murmuring about muddy sandals into smiles of contented joy.
For that we can we can say Hallelujah and amen.
A UCC Pastor's walk through the spiritual waters of Scripture, pop culture and life.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Sermon from 9/11; Exodus 14:19-31
Rev. George Miller
Exodus 14:19-31
“Finding Dry Land”
Sept 11, 2011
It was a third grade classroom, full of nine-year-old kids trying to figure out where they fit in.
Tommy is especially worried. You see, a puddle emerged between his feet and the front of his pants was wet. He is nervous and ashamed that this has happened to him.
In five minutes class will be over and he’ll have to stand up, and they will know. They will all know.
When the boys find out he’ll be teased endlessly and given a cruel nickname. When the girls find out none of them will speak to him again.
He doesn’t know what to do. The teacher begins walking his way. He’s afraid that he’ll be found that.
That’s when Susie comes toward him; she’s carrying the goldfish bowl filled with water. She trips in front of the teacher, dumping the bowl of water onto Tommy, drenching him.
Now, instead of being shamed, Tommy receives help. One classmate offers Tommy an extra pair of sweats; other classmates help the teacher clean up the mess. Susie is teased but blows it off with a joke or two.
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, Tommy walks over to Susie and says “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”
Susie nodded her head and whispered back “I wet my pant once too.”
…I don’t know about you all, but this week I’ve been feeling a bit like Tommy. A bit worried, on edge, not so sure what to do.
Not because I have wet my pants, mind you, but because of what this week has been building up to.
I don’t think I’m the only one. I sense that in my neighbor, in my brother, in the collective community conscious that’s been created via print, television and internet.
It’s here: 9/11; the 10th Anniversary. A day we can not ignore or avoid; a defining moment for an entire decade.
What a decade it has been with not one but two wars, Hurricane Katrina, the elections, the recession. Lots and lots of things that can keep one paralyzed in their chair.
We could pretend the events of that day never happened, but it would be dishonest.
We could use the events of that day to judge and condemn others, but that would be unchristian.
We could focus all our spiritual energy on rehashing the day the Towers fell, but that would also be self-abusive.
So I am grateful that today we have an opportunity to do something that is really none of the above; we get to each be a Susie this afternoon, but instead of doing so via a goldfish bowl, we’ll get to do it through change jars, fellowship and a chance to help one family experience drier land.
It’s fitting that today we get to explore a scripture that is so elemental to the Old Testament and to our faith in general: the crossing of the Red Sea.
To catch you up on things, the people of God were enslaved by the Egyptians, oppressed and forced to do hard labor.
Instead of dying away, they multiply, which scares the Pharaoh, a man ruthlessly evil and cruel.
He orders the baby boys thrown into the Nile, but a mother finds a way to protect her son and he grows into a man named Moses.
And through a series of events, Moses is called by God to deliver the people from their oppression.
“I have heard their cries and I know their sufferings and I have come to deliver them and bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey.”
“And it is you who I will send to Pharaoh and it is you who will bring my people out of Egypt.”
Moses balks at the idea; the responsibility seems too great and he comes up with reasons as to why not. But ultimately God prevails, and Moses becomes the voice and the vehicle for God to deliver the people.
Through a series of intense meetings coupled with signs and wonders, the evil Pharaoh agrees to let the people of God go.
But before they can get too far, the Pharaoh has a hardening of the heart, and he decides to unleash his wrath. He orders over 600 chariots and an army of men to chase them down.
As they draw near, the people cry out, afraid they will die where they stand; blocked off by the waters of the Red Sea with nowhere to run.
Moses says to them “Don’t be afraid, stand firm and see the deliverance of the Lord who will fight for you.”
As the Pharaoh approaches, as the sound of horses’ hooves and chariot’s wheels descend upon the men, women and children of God, there is a moment in which nature, the divine and humanity work together.
Moses stretches out his hand above the sea, God drives back the waters to create a wall and the Israelites walk through on dry ground.
Could you image that? Can you imagine facing almost certain death; the watery chaos, the sense of no way out?
Then, can you imagine seeing the Red Sea parting, an act that defies description and expectation, and a way is made through no way; a way is made through to the other side, in which the land is dry?
Yes, the enemies are vanquished, the people make it through; their footing assured; and they safely make it; together.
This is a story for the ages, and it is a story for all people, because we have all had our own Red Sea moments.
We have all faced times in which there seemed no way out. We have all faced times in which certain defeat seemed the only option.
We have all faced times in which we could hear the sounds of horses’ hooves and chariots descending upon our back; we’ve all faced the threat to go back to a place we do not want to go.
We have all had our back against the Red Sea in which we are left facing our enemy, be it oppression, illness, poverty, injustice.
This story becomes that universal testimony about how someway, somehow, God acts, God moves, God responds.
That somehow, in ways we can not always expect or fully understand, our Lord has a way to part the waters and that although they may remain on our right and on our left, ready to crash down at any point, we can find a way through, a way through to dry ground.
It doesn’t mean there won’t be other bodies of water to face, it doesn’t mean there won’t be other enemies to worry about, but it means that through the help of God and the help of one another, we make it through.
Today, as a nation, we have an opportunity to look back upon the events of 9/11 and to realize that as horrific as those events were, as much as they have left deep wounds, they have not completely drowned us or destroyed our resilience.
Today, as a church, we have an opportunity to come together as one to raise funds for ShelterBox, an organization devoted to finding ways to offer a bit of dry land to a family that has faced their own Red Sea.
Today, as individuals, though our participation in the Global Mission Fair, we get to stretch out our hands by participating in activities together, by giving generously.
Like Susie in the story told earlier, we have a unique way to help. But instead of dumping fishbowls, we have a chance to offer a family a spot of dry land, a way in which they will receive items that will allow them to create safe shelter, the ability to prepare food and to care for their needs.
In conclusion, today we heard about a defining moment in Israel’s history, of a moment in which they could have been swallowed by the waters or destroyed by their enemy.
But God, through the actions of Moses, saved them and they were delivered.
We too have all faced our own raging seas; we have each experienced how God has parted them and lead us through.
So, as we, as a nation, recall a day that was so tragic, let us embrace the opportunity we have today to help another.
By participating in today’s Global Mission Fair, our gifts and our time can help a family find a way from uncertainty to hope, from despair to a tomorrow, and the ways in which the goodness of humanity can overcome the evil that some may do.
Let us give thanks to the Spirit, which is the breath of God, to Jesus Christ, who embodied God’s love and to our Creator who hears our cries and leads us to dry land.
Amen and amen.
Exodus 14:19-31
“Finding Dry Land”
Sept 11, 2011
It was a third grade classroom, full of nine-year-old kids trying to figure out where they fit in.
Tommy is especially worried. You see, a puddle emerged between his feet and the front of his pants was wet. He is nervous and ashamed that this has happened to him.
In five minutes class will be over and he’ll have to stand up, and they will know. They will all know.
When the boys find out he’ll be teased endlessly and given a cruel nickname. When the girls find out none of them will speak to him again.
He doesn’t know what to do. The teacher begins walking his way. He’s afraid that he’ll be found that.
That’s when Susie comes toward him; she’s carrying the goldfish bowl filled with water. She trips in front of the teacher, dumping the bowl of water onto Tommy, drenching him.
Now, instead of being shamed, Tommy receives help. One classmate offers Tommy an extra pair of sweats; other classmates help the teacher clean up the mess. Susie is teased but blows it off with a joke or two.
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, Tommy walks over to Susie and says “You did that on purpose, didn’t you.”
Susie nodded her head and whispered back “I wet my pant once too.”
…I don’t know about you all, but this week I’ve been feeling a bit like Tommy. A bit worried, on edge, not so sure what to do.
Not because I have wet my pants, mind you, but because of what this week has been building up to.
I don’t think I’m the only one. I sense that in my neighbor, in my brother, in the collective community conscious that’s been created via print, television and internet.
It’s here: 9/11; the 10th Anniversary. A day we can not ignore or avoid; a defining moment for an entire decade.
What a decade it has been with not one but two wars, Hurricane Katrina, the elections, the recession. Lots and lots of things that can keep one paralyzed in their chair.
We could pretend the events of that day never happened, but it would be dishonest.
We could use the events of that day to judge and condemn others, but that would be unchristian.
We could focus all our spiritual energy on rehashing the day the Towers fell, but that would also be self-abusive.
So I am grateful that today we have an opportunity to do something that is really none of the above; we get to each be a Susie this afternoon, but instead of doing so via a goldfish bowl, we’ll get to do it through change jars, fellowship and a chance to help one family experience drier land.
It’s fitting that today we get to explore a scripture that is so elemental to the Old Testament and to our faith in general: the crossing of the Red Sea.
To catch you up on things, the people of God were enslaved by the Egyptians, oppressed and forced to do hard labor.
Instead of dying away, they multiply, which scares the Pharaoh, a man ruthlessly evil and cruel.
He orders the baby boys thrown into the Nile, but a mother finds a way to protect her son and he grows into a man named Moses.
And through a series of events, Moses is called by God to deliver the people from their oppression.
“I have heard their cries and I know their sufferings and I have come to deliver them and bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey.”
“And it is you who I will send to Pharaoh and it is you who will bring my people out of Egypt.”
Moses balks at the idea; the responsibility seems too great and he comes up with reasons as to why not. But ultimately God prevails, and Moses becomes the voice and the vehicle for God to deliver the people.
Through a series of intense meetings coupled with signs and wonders, the evil Pharaoh agrees to let the people of God go.
But before they can get too far, the Pharaoh has a hardening of the heart, and he decides to unleash his wrath. He orders over 600 chariots and an army of men to chase them down.
As they draw near, the people cry out, afraid they will die where they stand; blocked off by the waters of the Red Sea with nowhere to run.
Moses says to them “Don’t be afraid, stand firm and see the deliverance of the Lord who will fight for you.”
As the Pharaoh approaches, as the sound of horses’ hooves and chariot’s wheels descend upon the men, women and children of God, there is a moment in which nature, the divine and humanity work together.
Moses stretches out his hand above the sea, God drives back the waters to create a wall and the Israelites walk through on dry ground.
Could you image that? Can you imagine facing almost certain death; the watery chaos, the sense of no way out?
Then, can you imagine seeing the Red Sea parting, an act that defies description and expectation, and a way is made through no way; a way is made through to the other side, in which the land is dry?
Yes, the enemies are vanquished, the people make it through; their footing assured; and they safely make it; together.
This is a story for the ages, and it is a story for all people, because we have all had our own Red Sea moments.
We have all faced times in which there seemed no way out. We have all faced times in which certain defeat seemed the only option.
We have all faced times in which we could hear the sounds of horses’ hooves and chariots descending upon our back; we’ve all faced the threat to go back to a place we do not want to go.
We have all had our back against the Red Sea in which we are left facing our enemy, be it oppression, illness, poverty, injustice.
This story becomes that universal testimony about how someway, somehow, God acts, God moves, God responds.
That somehow, in ways we can not always expect or fully understand, our Lord has a way to part the waters and that although they may remain on our right and on our left, ready to crash down at any point, we can find a way through, a way through to dry ground.
It doesn’t mean there won’t be other bodies of water to face, it doesn’t mean there won’t be other enemies to worry about, but it means that through the help of God and the help of one another, we make it through.
Today, as a nation, we have an opportunity to look back upon the events of 9/11 and to realize that as horrific as those events were, as much as they have left deep wounds, they have not completely drowned us or destroyed our resilience.
Today, as a church, we have an opportunity to come together as one to raise funds for ShelterBox, an organization devoted to finding ways to offer a bit of dry land to a family that has faced their own Red Sea.
Today, as individuals, though our participation in the Global Mission Fair, we get to stretch out our hands by participating in activities together, by giving generously.
Like Susie in the story told earlier, we have a unique way to help. But instead of dumping fishbowls, we have a chance to offer a family a spot of dry land, a way in which they will receive items that will allow them to create safe shelter, the ability to prepare food and to care for their needs.
In conclusion, today we heard about a defining moment in Israel’s history, of a moment in which they could have been swallowed by the waters or destroyed by their enemy.
But God, through the actions of Moses, saved them and they were delivered.
We too have all faced our own raging seas; we have each experienced how God has parted them and lead us through.
So, as we, as a nation, recall a day that was so tragic, let us embrace the opportunity we have today to help another.
By participating in today’s Global Mission Fair, our gifts and our time can help a family find a way from uncertainty to hope, from despair to a tomorrow, and the ways in which the goodness of humanity can overcome the evil that some may do.
Let us give thanks to the Spirit, which is the breath of God, to Jesus Christ, who embodied God’s love and to our Creator who hears our cries and leads us to dry land.
Amen and amen.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Sermon for Aug 28, 2011; Psalm 105:1-15
Rev. George Miller
Psalm 105:1-15
“Faith as a Verb”
Aug 28, 2011
It is good to be here, preparing for my vacation, sharing today’s scripture.
This is a fitting Scripture to end this season of ministry because it’s a summation of so many stories and themes we have talked about since the last time I went on vacation.
It is also good to have my momma with us, sitting in the congregation today. Let me tell you something about my momma.
I remember growing up and going to amusement parks. The big event was always the rollercoaster; so big, so fast, so high and daunting.
Mom had a unique view. She said that if I was ever scared I should just yell; and not just yell anything, but yell “Yahoo!”
And that’s just what we did.
Go onto the coaster and it pulls you up, higher and higher. And then for that moment it pauses, and you can see everything, including how far you’ve come.
And then you’re dropped and at lightening speed you go faster and faster, taking sharp turns and dips and jolts.
And instead of allowing our fear to get the best of us, Mom and I would be shouting out “Yahoo!”
And something that could have been scary became fun; something that looked daunting became doable.
And we yelled and we shouted “Yahoo!” and we laughed and by the time the ride ended, I was saying: “Let’s do that again.”
That’s how we rode the rollercoasters, from the Big Bad Wolf in Virginia to Space Mountain in Disney World, shouting “Yahoo!” all the way.
Not only did we end up having fun, so did the people around us. They’d hear our cries and start laughing; you could spot the people on line below smiling at our verbal escapades.
It was as if we were setting people at ease and helping them to be less afraid. To this day, whenever I go on a ride that’s fast or scary, a loud “Yahoo!” makes everything seem OK.
Rollercoasters involve a bit of bravery; but also a bit of faith.
Faith that you’ll be OK, faith that you’ll have some fun, faith that whatever drops and turns, highs and lows you encounter, you’ll be able to “Yahoo” right through.
Rollercoasters also involve faith because in order to experience them, it requires you to act: to step up, to sit down, and to hold on.
Faith, you see, is not simply a thought, but faith is an act. Faith is not simply something you feel, it is something you do.
…Faith is also some times the only thing you have left to hold onto after a horrible experience…
Today’s Psalm was most likely written under such a circumstance, for a group of folk who were going through a difficult time in history.
It was after the exile was over. Their country lay in shambles, their fields were dried up, and their economy was shot.
When they looked around there was little reason for hope or laughter. In fact, it would have been a good time to quit and walk away.
Since their present is bleak and their future unknowable, the psalmist invites them to look back: back over their story, from where they came and who their ancestors were.
By having them look back, he reminds them of all that has been accomplished by the grace of God.
In other words, this psalm is trying to say “Look at who else has ridden the rollercoaster of life and hear the ways in which God gave them a reason to shout “Yahoo!”
In today’s portion of the scripture, the psalmist tells about two key rollercoaster riders.
First there is Abraham. Abraham who spent most of his life childless, Abraham whose family tree was considered good as dead.
If you recall, it was Abraham who was told to get up to go; the Lord had a plan: that he would be the father of a nation.
It was to be a wild ride that God had in store for Abraham, a ride involving many twists and turns; a ride that would leave him and his wife and all the people’s laughing.
But it was not going to happen with Abraham sitting around, doing nothing.
Abraham would have to act; he would have to get onto the rollercoaster God had designed.
Same thing for Jacob. Do you remember how Jacob started off as a momma’s boy? While his brother was out in the world, hunting, Jacob preferred to stay inside.
When Jacob did act, it was through lies and deceit. He wasn’t so much on the ride as he was making life difficult for those riding it.
Eventually Jacob did get on the rollercoaster when he received assurance from God that he would not be deserted; later he would engage God in a wrestling match of strength and of will, in which he would have his name and life changed forever.
These two ancestors did not simply change the course of history because they had a faith in which they only felt, but because they had a faith in which they acted.
Sometimes they did the right thing, many times they did the wrong, but by golly they lived their faith as a verb and they made the nations yell “Yahoo!”
So; what is the point; why would the psalmist bother writing this song if their glory days seemed to be over?
Because if the people can recall the past, perhaps they can rejoice in the present and believe in a future.
The economy seems shot and things are looking dead?
Recall how God called forth a childless man and blessed him with enough ancestors to build a nation.
Current state of affairs make you feel like no one will ever take our nation serious again?
Recall how God called forth a momma’s boy who upset everyone around him, and used him to bless the world.
If God could do those things then, God could do them now, and God could certainly do them again.
But it will require more then sitting and hoping, it will involve actions that we do.
Actions like give, make, sing, tell, seek, and remember.
Ultimately, all these faithful actions come together for perhaps the ultimate act of faith: to praise.
In conclusion, life is a roller coaster, one that our ancestors have been on before.
There will be moments where you are pulled up, going higher and higher in which you’ll see how far you’ve come.
And there will be moments in which you will drop at lightening speeds with sharp turns and dips and jolts.
But you have to get on, and instead of allowing your fear to get the best of you, shout out “Yahoo!”
And something that could be scary can become fun; something that looks daunting, through God can became doable.
And who knows how you will bring smiles to all of those around you.
For that, we can give a big “Hallelujah!” and an “Amen!”
Psalm 105:1-15
“Faith as a Verb”
Aug 28, 2011
It is good to be here, preparing for my vacation, sharing today’s scripture.
This is a fitting Scripture to end this season of ministry because it’s a summation of so many stories and themes we have talked about since the last time I went on vacation.
It is also good to have my momma with us, sitting in the congregation today. Let me tell you something about my momma.
I remember growing up and going to amusement parks. The big event was always the rollercoaster; so big, so fast, so high and daunting.
Mom had a unique view. She said that if I was ever scared I should just yell; and not just yell anything, but yell “Yahoo!”
And that’s just what we did.
Go onto the coaster and it pulls you up, higher and higher. And then for that moment it pauses, and you can see everything, including how far you’ve come.
And then you’re dropped and at lightening speed you go faster and faster, taking sharp turns and dips and jolts.
And instead of allowing our fear to get the best of us, Mom and I would be shouting out “Yahoo!”
And something that could have been scary became fun; something that looked daunting became doable.
And we yelled and we shouted “Yahoo!” and we laughed and by the time the ride ended, I was saying: “Let’s do that again.”
That’s how we rode the rollercoasters, from the Big Bad Wolf in Virginia to Space Mountain in Disney World, shouting “Yahoo!” all the way.
Not only did we end up having fun, so did the people around us. They’d hear our cries and start laughing; you could spot the people on line below smiling at our verbal escapades.
It was as if we were setting people at ease and helping them to be less afraid. To this day, whenever I go on a ride that’s fast or scary, a loud “Yahoo!” makes everything seem OK.
Rollercoasters involve a bit of bravery; but also a bit of faith.
Faith that you’ll be OK, faith that you’ll have some fun, faith that whatever drops and turns, highs and lows you encounter, you’ll be able to “Yahoo” right through.
Rollercoasters also involve faith because in order to experience them, it requires you to act: to step up, to sit down, and to hold on.
Faith, you see, is not simply a thought, but faith is an act. Faith is not simply something you feel, it is something you do.
…Faith is also some times the only thing you have left to hold onto after a horrible experience…
Today’s Psalm was most likely written under such a circumstance, for a group of folk who were going through a difficult time in history.
It was after the exile was over. Their country lay in shambles, their fields were dried up, and their economy was shot.
When they looked around there was little reason for hope or laughter. In fact, it would have been a good time to quit and walk away.
Since their present is bleak and their future unknowable, the psalmist invites them to look back: back over their story, from where they came and who their ancestors were.
By having them look back, he reminds them of all that has been accomplished by the grace of God.
In other words, this psalm is trying to say “Look at who else has ridden the rollercoaster of life and hear the ways in which God gave them a reason to shout “Yahoo!”
In today’s portion of the scripture, the psalmist tells about two key rollercoaster riders.
First there is Abraham. Abraham who spent most of his life childless, Abraham whose family tree was considered good as dead.
If you recall, it was Abraham who was told to get up to go; the Lord had a plan: that he would be the father of a nation.
It was to be a wild ride that God had in store for Abraham, a ride involving many twists and turns; a ride that would leave him and his wife and all the people’s laughing.
But it was not going to happen with Abraham sitting around, doing nothing.
Abraham would have to act; he would have to get onto the rollercoaster God had designed.
Same thing for Jacob. Do you remember how Jacob started off as a momma’s boy? While his brother was out in the world, hunting, Jacob preferred to stay inside.
When Jacob did act, it was through lies and deceit. He wasn’t so much on the ride as he was making life difficult for those riding it.
Eventually Jacob did get on the rollercoaster when he received assurance from God that he would not be deserted; later he would engage God in a wrestling match of strength and of will, in which he would have his name and life changed forever.
These two ancestors did not simply change the course of history because they had a faith in which they only felt, but because they had a faith in which they acted.
Sometimes they did the right thing, many times they did the wrong, but by golly they lived their faith as a verb and they made the nations yell “Yahoo!”
So; what is the point; why would the psalmist bother writing this song if their glory days seemed to be over?
Because if the people can recall the past, perhaps they can rejoice in the present and believe in a future.
The economy seems shot and things are looking dead?
Recall how God called forth a childless man and blessed him with enough ancestors to build a nation.
Current state of affairs make you feel like no one will ever take our nation serious again?
Recall how God called forth a momma’s boy who upset everyone around him, and used him to bless the world.
If God could do those things then, God could do them now, and God could certainly do them again.
But it will require more then sitting and hoping, it will involve actions that we do.
Actions like give, make, sing, tell, seek, and remember.
Ultimately, all these faithful actions come together for perhaps the ultimate act of faith: to praise.
In conclusion, life is a roller coaster, one that our ancestors have been on before.
There will be moments where you are pulled up, going higher and higher in which you’ll see how far you’ve come.
And there will be moments in which you will drop at lightening speeds with sharp turns and dips and jolts.
But you have to get on, and instead of allowing your fear to get the best of you, shout out “Yahoo!”
And something that could be scary can become fun; something that looks daunting, through God can became doable.
And who knows how you will bring smiles to all of those around you.
For that, we can give a big “Hallelujah!” and an “Amen!”
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Sermon for 08 21 11; Psalm 124
Rev. George Miller
Psalm 124
“Wounded but Not Defeated”
Aug 21, 2011
What we do we want in life?
To be free of floods. To be free of foes. To be free of traps.
In the real world, that will never happen.
So instead, let me share with you a story about a group of 15 year-old guys who wanted a place to eat and discussed where to meet.
They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant, where you could get a hot dog and Coca-cola for a buck and Susie, the cute little red-headed girl, lived across the street.
10 years later, the group of 25 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the snacks were free and the house band was good. Not to mention there’d be plenty of cute girls.
10 years later, the group of 35 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the beer was cheap and the wings were hot.
10 years later, the group of 45 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the martinis were large and it was near the gym.
10 years later, the group of 55 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the prices were reasonable, the wine list was good and the waitresses liked to flirt.
10 years later, the group of 65 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because they had an early bird special and fish is good for the cholesterol.
10 years later, the group of 75 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the food was not too spicy and it was handicap-accessible.
10 years later, the group of 85 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because, well- they had never been there before…
…as most of you know, a few weeks ago I visited with an old classmate of mine. I shouldn’t use the word old, because we’re only 41, but that’s a bit of how it felt.
Her name is Kerrie, and the last time we saw each other George Bush Sr. was president, we were involved in Desert Storm and gasoline was $1.14 a gallon.
So to say that a lot of time has passed is an understatement. But when it comes to dear, old friends, time does not exist.
If you’re lucky, the person you knew, the sense of humor, the life, the knowing looks and inside jokes are there, under the wrinkles, the cellulite, the heartbreaks, the successes, the family struggles, the dreams reached and the dreams dashed.
When Kerrie and I met a few weeks ago, whatever may have flooded us, devoured us, trapped us, was…present, but so were the things that nurtured, empowered and gave us flight.
And for the rest of the day we ate and drank and walked along the shore, two beautiful birds, strong, but not perfect; wounded but not defeated.
Yet another sign of how God is good.
I’m sure that everyone here can relate to what it is like to watch time go by, to see needs unmet and to witness all the things you have overcome, and to find a way to say “I’m still here!”
That’s what part of this Psalm is about.
Just like last week’s reading, this week’s scripture is called a Psalm of Ascent. It is a song sung by a group of people traveling to the Temple or who have arrived there.
Simply by listening to it read aloud you can hear how it has built into it a call and response in which all the people are invited to lift their voices in recalling the ways in which the Lord has saved them.
Like any good piece of art, this psalm is open ended. Instead of addressing specific events, it uses similes and graphic images to allow anyone from any time to find something to relate to.
To feel attacked, eaten alive? Who’s never felt that way?
To feel flooded over, washed away? Been there.
To feel like a bird caught in a trap or the teeth of a beast? Done that.
And yet still able to say “Our help is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
Amazing…
The portion of the scripture that really stood out to me was verse 7: “We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped.”
It brought me right back to memories of growing up on Long Island. My Mother, who always had a love for animals, was known for taking in wounded birds and squirrels.
Anytime someone found one on the street or in their yard, they’d bring them to our house and Mom wouldn’t have the heart to say no.
I remember the routine. Find a box. Line it with newspaper. Take a rag or washcloth and fashion it into a nest.
Then make a small batch of baby oatmeal, put it into an eye dropper and use it to feed the wounded animal.
We’d have to make sure the creature was away from the cats and the dogs and we’d hear the fluttering of their wings or the scraping of there feet and the chirping sounds when they were hungry.
I can look back on those times fondly, but the truth is, in all those years, only two of the wounded were successfully nursed back to health.
One was a bird we released into the backyard where he hung around for a few days.
The other was a baby squirrel we called Sherlock who ate mashed up peanuts until he was released at the local Boy Scout camp.
Sadly, all the others died. Their wounds were too great, their body was too frail or they just couldn’t survive apart from their own mother.
So I read verse 7 not through a lense of Disney-do-goodness, but with a very clear knowledge that when birds are hurt, there are life-long scars they carry with them.
Though they may have been set free or their trap has been released, wings are still broken, feathers are ripped out, legs are crushed. Some of them fly into other traps.
Some survive, other do not.
So when the people of this Psalm compare themselves to birds that were once in snares, I read beyond the good news of their freedom and come face to face with the life long scars and fears and limps that they must bear.
As do I, as do you.
As does Christ.
Which brings me to a theology I’ve rarely preached on, but find so fascinating.
The notion that as Christians we will talk about faith, talk about healing, talk about miracles, but the reality of our unique testimony is that our God is a living God who carries permanent scars.
…I invite us to think about that for a moment...To think of the Christ who died, the Christ who was wounded.
Because of whom he ate with. Because of whom he healed. Because of whom he set free.
Because he preached about a kingdom in which people who were wounded, but not defeated, would be welcomed and given a place at the table.
And because of those things, he was given over to the very floods, the very teeth, the very snares of society in which his arms, his side, his feet were pierced.
And he died, full of wounds.
Never to be 35 or 45, 55 or 65, 75 or 85.
And though he was placed in a tomb, death did not consume or define him, but somehow, someway, through God, he was set free in an event of hope which we call the Resurrection.
But here is what I want to highlight today: even in the Resurrection the wounds he bore were still there. They never went away, they were never hid, but on full display.
And it was those wounds that the Resurrected Christ used to calm the doubts and the fears of his disciples.
It was through those wounds that he brought belief and the gift of peace back to Thomas.
And it is through those wounds that we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we have a Lord who knows what we go through, who has felt our pain, understands our fears and has promised to be there always, until the end of time.
In other words, our Lord and Savior was wounded, but not defeated. Nor shall we be.
In the beginning of today’s message I asked “What do we want in life?”
Over the course time, as we live, we love, as we lose, as we age, it changes.
We may want free snacks and cheap beer, we may want choice location and good wine, and we may want low cholesterol and handicap accessibility.
We may want to be free of floods, free of foes, free of traps.
Will we always get what we want?
No.
But what we do get is the Lord who made heaven and earth.
The Lord who willingly still bears the wounds that were inflicted by human kind.
The Lord, in whom all ultimate help will come, no matter what we endure.
Because of Christ’s scars, we may be wounded, but we will never be defeated.
For that may we say “Hallelujah!” and “Amen.”
Psalm 124
“Wounded but Not Defeated”
Aug 21, 2011
What we do we want in life?
To be free of floods. To be free of foes. To be free of traps.
In the real world, that will never happen.
So instead, let me share with you a story about a group of 15 year-old guys who wanted a place to eat and discussed where to meet.
They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant, where you could get a hot dog and Coca-cola for a buck and Susie, the cute little red-headed girl, lived across the street.
10 years later, the group of 25 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the snacks were free and the house band was good. Not to mention there’d be plenty of cute girls.
10 years later, the group of 35 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the beer was cheap and the wings were hot.
10 years later, the group of 45 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the martinis were large and it was near the gym.
10 years later, the group of 55 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the prices were reasonable, the wine list was good and the waitresses liked to flirt.
10 years later, the group of 65 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because they had an early bird special and fish is good for the cholesterol.
10 years later, the group of 75 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the food was not too spicy and it was handicap-accessible.
10 years later, the group of 85 year-old guys discussed where to meet for dinner. They agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because, well- they had never been there before…
…as most of you know, a few weeks ago I visited with an old classmate of mine. I shouldn’t use the word old, because we’re only 41, but that’s a bit of how it felt.
Her name is Kerrie, and the last time we saw each other George Bush Sr. was president, we were involved in Desert Storm and gasoline was $1.14 a gallon.
So to say that a lot of time has passed is an understatement. But when it comes to dear, old friends, time does not exist.
If you’re lucky, the person you knew, the sense of humor, the life, the knowing looks and inside jokes are there, under the wrinkles, the cellulite, the heartbreaks, the successes, the family struggles, the dreams reached and the dreams dashed.
When Kerrie and I met a few weeks ago, whatever may have flooded us, devoured us, trapped us, was…present, but so were the things that nurtured, empowered and gave us flight.
And for the rest of the day we ate and drank and walked along the shore, two beautiful birds, strong, but not perfect; wounded but not defeated.
Yet another sign of how God is good.
I’m sure that everyone here can relate to what it is like to watch time go by, to see needs unmet and to witness all the things you have overcome, and to find a way to say “I’m still here!”
That’s what part of this Psalm is about.
Just like last week’s reading, this week’s scripture is called a Psalm of Ascent. It is a song sung by a group of people traveling to the Temple or who have arrived there.
Simply by listening to it read aloud you can hear how it has built into it a call and response in which all the people are invited to lift their voices in recalling the ways in which the Lord has saved them.
Like any good piece of art, this psalm is open ended. Instead of addressing specific events, it uses similes and graphic images to allow anyone from any time to find something to relate to.
To feel attacked, eaten alive? Who’s never felt that way?
To feel flooded over, washed away? Been there.
To feel like a bird caught in a trap or the teeth of a beast? Done that.
And yet still able to say “Our help is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
Amazing…
The portion of the scripture that really stood out to me was verse 7: “We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped.”
It brought me right back to memories of growing up on Long Island. My Mother, who always had a love for animals, was known for taking in wounded birds and squirrels.
Anytime someone found one on the street or in their yard, they’d bring them to our house and Mom wouldn’t have the heart to say no.
I remember the routine. Find a box. Line it with newspaper. Take a rag or washcloth and fashion it into a nest.
Then make a small batch of baby oatmeal, put it into an eye dropper and use it to feed the wounded animal.
We’d have to make sure the creature was away from the cats and the dogs and we’d hear the fluttering of their wings or the scraping of there feet and the chirping sounds when they were hungry.
I can look back on those times fondly, but the truth is, in all those years, only two of the wounded were successfully nursed back to health.
One was a bird we released into the backyard where he hung around for a few days.
The other was a baby squirrel we called Sherlock who ate mashed up peanuts until he was released at the local Boy Scout camp.
Sadly, all the others died. Their wounds were too great, their body was too frail or they just couldn’t survive apart from their own mother.
So I read verse 7 not through a lense of Disney-do-goodness, but with a very clear knowledge that when birds are hurt, there are life-long scars they carry with them.
Though they may have been set free or their trap has been released, wings are still broken, feathers are ripped out, legs are crushed. Some of them fly into other traps.
Some survive, other do not.
So when the people of this Psalm compare themselves to birds that were once in snares, I read beyond the good news of their freedom and come face to face with the life long scars and fears and limps that they must bear.
As do I, as do you.
As does Christ.
Which brings me to a theology I’ve rarely preached on, but find so fascinating.
The notion that as Christians we will talk about faith, talk about healing, talk about miracles, but the reality of our unique testimony is that our God is a living God who carries permanent scars.
…I invite us to think about that for a moment...To think of the Christ who died, the Christ who was wounded.
Because of whom he ate with. Because of whom he healed. Because of whom he set free.
Because he preached about a kingdom in which people who were wounded, but not defeated, would be welcomed and given a place at the table.
And because of those things, he was given over to the very floods, the very teeth, the very snares of society in which his arms, his side, his feet were pierced.
And he died, full of wounds.
Never to be 35 or 45, 55 or 65, 75 or 85.
And though he was placed in a tomb, death did not consume or define him, but somehow, someway, through God, he was set free in an event of hope which we call the Resurrection.
But here is what I want to highlight today: even in the Resurrection the wounds he bore were still there. They never went away, they were never hid, but on full display.
And it was those wounds that the Resurrected Christ used to calm the doubts and the fears of his disciples.
It was through those wounds that he brought belief and the gift of peace back to Thomas.
And it is through those wounds that we know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we have a Lord who knows what we go through, who has felt our pain, understands our fears and has promised to be there always, until the end of time.
In other words, our Lord and Savior was wounded, but not defeated. Nor shall we be.
In the beginning of today’s message I asked “What do we want in life?”
Over the course time, as we live, we love, as we lose, as we age, it changes.
We may want free snacks and cheap beer, we may want choice location and good wine, and we may want low cholesterol and handicap accessibility.
We may want to be free of floods, free of foes, free of traps.
Will we always get what we want?
No.
But what we do get is the Lord who made heaven and earth.
The Lord who willingly still bears the wounds that were inflicted by human kind.
The Lord, in whom all ultimate help will come, no matter what we endure.
Because of Christ’s scars, we may be wounded, but we will never be defeated.
For that may we say “Hallelujah!” and “Amen.”
Friday, August 19, 2011
Sermon from Aug 14, 2011; Psalm 133
Rev. George Miller
Psalm 133
“Healing Oil”
Aug 14, 2011
Last year we, as a nation, were covered in darkness. I wonder how many people recall that.
A year ago, hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of black, dark, oil was spilling into the innocent sea.
A year ago the Gulf of Mexico was weeping; tears stained with crude.
The Gulf was weeping because her children were dying. The whales on their oceanic journeys. The sea turtles and horseshoe crabs, the shrimp and mackerel.
It didn’t matter if her children were prey or predator, or if they were birds who took to the air, the Gulf of Mexico wept.
She wept for pelicans who suffocated off of the Louisiana beaches, the heron chicks who had no chance at all, the sea gulls that sunk under waves of murderous oil.
The Gulf wept for her marshes and wetlands with their grass dead and soaked in oil, as was the earth 5,000 feet down.
The Gulf wept for the people who depended upon her. The fisherman, the hospitality industry, and the resorts.
The Gulf wept for the pets who became homeless and the children who experienced severe forms of stress because Mommy and Daddy no longer had a job.
A year ago the oil spill that we, as a nation, experienced was emotionally likened to a hurricane that never went away, and it’s said that we will not even know the true impact for another four years.
The Gulf of Mexico wept because just a year ago it was covered in oily darkness, as were we.
Yet how many of us even remember it; how many recall what those weeks were like; that feeling of impotence, not knowing what we could do or even when the oil spill would end?
But end, it eventually did. And in some ways, we as a church did what we were able to do.
We held a week long series of events devoted to the spill. We had a service of lament. A Bible Study. A letter writing campaign.
A service devoted to the environment which was attended by Charlie Taylor, the owner of the local BP stations.
We held an oil Sabbath, a service of healing featuring a drum circle.
We even demonstrated forgiveness by purchasing gas from BP, making us the only congregation in the US to offer BP any token of grace.
It’s hard to believe that a year ago those events took place, just as it’s hard to even remember that we did go through such a time of fear and worry, in which we were so uncertain about what the future had in store.
And yet, somehow, we made it through. And since then our focus and fears have gone to new places: Casey Anthony, the Debt Ceiling, and the Dougherty Gang.
Yet, I am sure that the Gulf is still weeping; for the destructive, incendiary ways of oil in an ocean can be legion.
That is why today I am thankful for a scripture in which the healing natures of oil are celebrated.
A different kind of oil, mind you, but oil nevertheless.
Psalm 133 is called a Song of Ascent. It’s a song that people sang as they traveled to or arrived at the Holy City.
It’s a song that celebrated Jerusalem as the place where God’s people were with their true family, in their true home.
The Temple was the place in which they could be totally in touch with the healing presence of God.
There is nothing dark or threatening about this Scripture; it’s a celebration of life’s goodness, the Lord’s blessings and the virility of the land.
And the sign of all this is oil.
Precious oil.
Olive oil used as sign of hospitality and consecration. Oil as a sign of joy and relatedness.
And how is this oil applied?
Sparingly? No.
Selectively? No.
But abundantly.
So abundant it runs down the beard, so abundant it runs into the collar, so abundant it runs down into the robes.
So abundant it is like the morning dew on the mountain.
As one member of the Bible Study said on Tuesday, it’s almost like you can imagine the oil as God’s hands being wrapped around the person.
Oil so generously used it creates a sweet, pleasant time.
Oil so generously used it says “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey you are welcome.”
Oil so generously used it says “No matter how much darkness you have faced, no matter how much you have wept, there is light, and there is laughter and there is love.”
Last year, we as a nation were turned asunder by the fears created in seeing oil poured into the gulf.
But today we embrace a different image of oil; healing oil that is used to unify a nation through blessedness and hope, not fear and worry.
And through this gift of healing oil there is the promise of abundant life, the kind that can only come from unity and from a safe and healthy family.
And that family is the family of God. With Jesus Christ as the Head. With the Spirit as the breath. With God as Mother and Father.
Here, we are called to celebrate and embrace that unity, knowing that in the presence of God’s arms we are free from resentment, abuse and destructive behavior and ushered into a place of intimacy, love and growth.
Is Psalm 133 about oil that pulls sea gulls under, destroys businesses and causes pets to be homeless?
No, Psalm 133 is about healing oil in which human life and the ecology are blessed, in which people from all over can gather and be welcomed as one, in which sisters and brothers can have a sweet and pleasant time.
In conclusion, a year ago the waters were in threat of being destroyed by deadly oil.
Either we have forgotten or the human spirit is that strong to overcome disaster.
Either way, let’s give thanks that we have made it through to the other side and remember that no matter how dark things may seem, with God there is always a way through, there is always another side.
And thanks to the gift of salvation, there is a place in which we will all gather.
An ultimate place, in which with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit we will all be welcome and rejoice, where true oil, living oil, will be poured abundantly upon all.
For that, we should all say “Hallelujah!” and “Amen!”
Psalm 133
“Healing Oil”
Aug 14, 2011
Last year we, as a nation, were covered in darkness. I wonder how many people recall that.
A year ago, hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of black, dark, oil was spilling into the innocent sea.
A year ago the Gulf of Mexico was weeping; tears stained with crude.
The Gulf was weeping because her children were dying. The whales on their oceanic journeys. The sea turtles and horseshoe crabs, the shrimp and mackerel.
It didn’t matter if her children were prey or predator, or if they were birds who took to the air, the Gulf of Mexico wept.
She wept for pelicans who suffocated off of the Louisiana beaches, the heron chicks who had no chance at all, the sea gulls that sunk under waves of murderous oil.
The Gulf wept for her marshes and wetlands with their grass dead and soaked in oil, as was the earth 5,000 feet down.
The Gulf wept for the people who depended upon her. The fisherman, the hospitality industry, and the resorts.
The Gulf wept for the pets who became homeless and the children who experienced severe forms of stress because Mommy and Daddy no longer had a job.
A year ago the oil spill that we, as a nation, experienced was emotionally likened to a hurricane that never went away, and it’s said that we will not even know the true impact for another four years.
The Gulf of Mexico wept because just a year ago it was covered in oily darkness, as were we.
Yet how many of us even remember it; how many recall what those weeks were like; that feeling of impotence, not knowing what we could do or even when the oil spill would end?
But end, it eventually did. And in some ways, we as a church did what we were able to do.
We held a week long series of events devoted to the spill. We had a service of lament. A Bible Study. A letter writing campaign.
A service devoted to the environment which was attended by Charlie Taylor, the owner of the local BP stations.
We held an oil Sabbath, a service of healing featuring a drum circle.
We even demonstrated forgiveness by purchasing gas from BP, making us the only congregation in the US to offer BP any token of grace.
It’s hard to believe that a year ago those events took place, just as it’s hard to even remember that we did go through such a time of fear and worry, in which we were so uncertain about what the future had in store.
And yet, somehow, we made it through. And since then our focus and fears have gone to new places: Casey Anthony, the Debt Ceiling, and the Dougherty Gang.
Yet, I am sure that the Gulf is still weeping; for the destructive, incendiary ways of oil in an ocean can be legion.
That is why today I am thankful for a scripture in which the healing natures of oil are celebrated.
A different kind of oil, mind you, but oil nevertheless.
Psalm 133 is called a Song of Ascent. It’s a song that people sang as they traveled to or arrived at the Holy City.
It’s a song that celebrated Jerusalem as the place where God’s people were with their true family, in their true home.
The Temple was the place in which they could be totally in touch with the healing presence of God.
There is nothing dark or threatening about this Scripture; it’s a celebration of life’s goodness, the Lord’s blessings and the virility of the land.
And the sign of all this is oil.
Precious oil.
Olive oil used as sign of hospitality and consecration. Oil as a sign of joy and relatedness.
And how is this oil applied?
Sparingly? No.
Selectively? No.
But abundantly.
So abundant it runs down the beard, so abundant it runs into the collar, so abundant it runs down into the robes.
So abundant it is like the morning dew on the mountain.
As one member of the Bible Study said on Tuesday, it’s almost like you can imagine the oil as God’s hands being wrapped around the person.
Oil so generously used it creates a sweet, pleasant time.
Oil so generously used it says “No matter who you are or where you are on life’s journey you are welcome.”
Oil so generously used it says “No matter how much darkness you have faced, no matter how much you have wept, there is light, and there is laughter and there is love.”
Last year, we as a nation were turned asunder by the fears created in seeing oil poured into the gulf.
But today we embrace a different image of oil; healing oil that is used to unify a nation through blessedness and hope, not fear and worry.
And through this gift of healing oil there is the promise of abundant life, the kind that can only come from unity and from a safe and healthy family.
And that family is the family of God. With Jesus Christ as the Head. With the Spirit as the breath. With God as Mother and Father.
Here, we are called to celebrate and embrace that unity, knowing that in the presence of God’s arms we are free from resentment, abuse and destructive behavior and ushered into a place of intimacy, love and growth.
Is Psalm 133 about oil that pulls sea gulls under, destroys businesses and causes pets to be homeless?
No, Psalm 133 is about healing oil in which human life and the ecology are blessed, in which people from all over can gather and be welcomed as one, in which sisters and brothers can have a sweet and pleasant time.
In conclusion, a year ago the waters were in threat of being destroyed by deadly oil.
Either we have forgotten or the human spirit is that strong to overcome disaster.
Either way, let’s give thanks that we have made it through to the other side and remember that no matter how dark things may seem, with God there is always a way through, there is always another side.
And thanks to the gift of salvation, there is a place in which we will all gather.
An ultimate place, in which with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit we will all be welcome and rejoice, where true oil, living oil, will be poured abundantly upon all.
For that, we should all say “Hallelujah!” and “Amen!”
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