“Love Story”

“Love Story”

Luke 2: 1-20

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

When all the waiting was done….When Mary was certain there was no way her belly could get any bigger...When Joseph had prayed fervently for God to come to him in an another dream and deliver an instruction manual for being a parent….When the midwife had shared words of encouragement and care….

The time for the child’s birth arrived. 

God - that force of Love that had been coursing through and above and within and beyond all of Creation since before Creation was even a THING…..God-with-Us, Immanuel drew near to humanity once again. This time entering our world as an infant. 

Love with a human face. 

But first….before the labor, before the sweat and blood, before the exhilaration and exhaustion, terror and tenderness….BEFORE the birth, we are told that these young parents traveled to Bethlehem….because our story takes place under the shadow of empire. 

And empires run on oppression…empires require that every person be accounted for….every person must have a number. Else, how can an emperor keep the peace if he doesn’t know what he’s working with? Rome didn’t build itself, you know. 

And so….great with child, Mary and Joseph are required to make the trek to Bethlehem, about 90 miles south of their hometown of Nazareth. 

No Ubers or public transit in those days. It likely took the young couple the better part of a week to make the journey. Truly an astounding feat that late in pregnancy. 

Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem because Joseph’s people were from there. He was descended from King David….who, once upon a time, had been a young shepherd boy in Bethlehem. Bethlehem means City of Bread. It also means City of War. The name itself reminds us of two fundamental parts of our humanity….the need for sustenance, which we take from the earth, and our tendency towards conflict and strife. 

The author of Luke’s gospel tells us that Mary gave birth to her first child and swaddled him, laying him to rest in a feed trough. It seems there was no room for them in the main house and so they were relegated to the small side room, likely just outside the kitchen, where the animals came in from the chill of night. 

Despite the crowds present in most Nativity scenes, the only characters in our story at this point in Luke’s gospel are these: Emperor Augustus, who ordered the census; Quirinius who was the Roman governor and gets his name dropped; Mary, Joseph, baby. 

No magi in Luke’s version of the story. No innkeeper anywhere in the gospels. We aren’t told if the animals were housed somewhere else that night or not. For Mary’s sake, I hope so. Though perhaps the presence of gentle beasts would have been a comfort for these two teenagers as they labored together to bring new life into the world. 

The scene so far is this: Mary, Joseph, Jesus. 

Parent, parent, child. A tight circle of love and wonder. 

Upon making this quiet, mundane entry into the world, the Christ-force’s first call out into the world around Bethlehem was to shepherds keeping watch over the flocks that night. 

You know, I’ve heard many-a-sermon about how shepherds were looked down upon. They did dirty work, that’s certain. And they spent a lot of time alone, out on the literal margins of society. They traveled with their flocks….seeking pasture, shade, and water during the day. At night they guided their animals to caves or other safe areas to sleep. They must have been brave…..wandering all over the countryside with just  a big stick and a sling for throwing stones. They must have been rock-solid dependable and dedicated….I am guessing there are no real vacation days from shepherding. They must have possessed the kind of quiet confidence that makes others feel safe. 

In short, I’ve never fully bought the idea that shepherds were lowly. In fact, shepherds were also connected, symbolically, to those most revered and feared in the ancient near east. Time and time again in ancient texts we see various kings referred to as the shepherds of their people. In fact, the scepter that royalty carry is probably closely related to the rod that shepherds carry to defend their flocks. 

As so, shepherds seem to occupy one of those multifaceted spaces in our collective imagination…we look at them and see the full complexity of humanity. They are all of us. And that’s exactly who God called out to first upon arriving earth-side as the infant Jesus. 

Parent, parent, child….shepherds. And, finally: angels. 

First just one, with that classic angel-opening-line “fear not!” The angel basked in the shining glow of the Ancient One and said to the shepherds, “I bring good news….great joy. It’s for all people. This day in David’s city a savior is born, the Anointed One, your ruler. Go now and find the baby, swaddled tightly and lying in a manger.” 

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of God’s messengers…..together singing out out, “Glory to God! And on earth peace and goodness for all people.”

The circle is drawn wider, wider still. The Holy Spirit dwells within Mary...and Joseph accepts the invitation to play a role. The Christ child is born...and Love issues the invitation to the shepherds - everyday people just doing their everyday jobs in everyday places. Finally, the angels join the chorus. All of creation singing together of good news, great joy, peace for all people. 

And we, too, are invited to be a part of this story. Whatever our doubts or questions, there is room for all at the manger with Jesus. Whatever our fears or uncertainties, there is room for us at Jesus’s feet. No matter our failures, our messiness, our insecurities, there is room for us at the table of Jesus. 

Christmas is the story of a love that never ends. A love that cannot be broken. A love that has chased humans across the centuries, relentlessly. 

Parent, parent, child….Shepherds...Angels. 

The circle of love is drawn wider, wider still. And there is room for all of us at Love’s table. 

“The Prophet Mary”

Luke 1:46-55

Dec. 8, 2019 

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Mary, the mother of Jesus, goes by a lot of names. Mother Mary. Blessed Mary. Virgin Mary. Holy Mary. Saint Mary. Mary, Mother of God. 

She’s got titles in other languages. Mary, Theotokos in Greek, meaning “God-bearer.” Or in Latin, Regina Caeli, “the Queen of Heaven.” In Eastern Orthodox churches she is sometimes depicted as Mary, Platytera meaning “the one who is more spacious than the heavens.” The one who contains Love, brings forth Love into the world. 

No wonder she has so many names. 

A name that I don’t hear as often, but is absolutely appropriate is the Prophet Mary. A prophet, in the Jewish and Christian traditions, is one who speaks a word of truth from God….often convicting, always with the hope of bringing its hearers closer to God’s Realm of justice and peace for all creation. 

Prophets are those rare people among us who are able to both hear the whispers of the Spirit AND are brave enough to repeat what they hear to others...even when it comes at great cost to the speaker. 

Prophets speak to groups of people (think of William Barber bringing down the house at the Poor People’s Campaign launch in Topeka) and they speak to individuals (like Nathan did when he condemned King David for his selfish actions). Prophets speak in literal words, of course, but they are also known to speak through their actions (like when the Prophet Miriam led the Israelites in singing and dancing as they escaped from Egypt.)

Prophets exist in a space where time seems to collapse on itself. They usually have a visceral understanding of where we have been, name the world as it is, and paint a picture of what the world could be if we would only get our acts together. 

Mary was a prophet. Through her words and actions she called the people forward into God’s Realm. 

Author William Paul Young says the vision of Advent he has in his mind is this: God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit standing together in a tight circle, scheming and dreaming together as they have been since before the dawn of time. One day, the open their circle and invite a teenage girl to stand among them. And they say to her, “Here is what we want to do. What do you think?” And the young girl pauses and says, “Okay. Yes. I’m in.” And they smile and say, “Alright. Then we’re going in too.” [1]

From Mary’s “yes” new possibilities are born. Mary’s simple but profound “Let it be with me according to your word” sets the wheels in motion for Love Incarnate to come and dwell among us. Mary pauses only a moment before saying, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord.” Whether she already had a profound trust in her abilities or had been taught to “fake it until you make it” Mary never questions why God chose her to be the one to bear Love Incarnate to the world. 

Thanks be to God for Mary’s quiet confidence and faith. 

Having received the news and after giving her consent, Mary “makes haste” to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was also pregnant. In this way, she does what many expectant parents do: she turns instinctively to others, surrounding herself with a support network as she prepares to bring new life to the world. 

And after she has delivered the news to Elizabeth, Mary, like Miriam before her, sings a song to and about God. A song of thanksgiving. A song of praise. A prophetic song about the world as it has been, in now, and will ever be. The poem that bursts forth from Mary’s soul in the first chapter of Luke is commonly known as The Magnificat because Mary begins with the words “my soul magnifies the Lord.”

Mary’s outpouring of praise is for who God is and what God has done. Her spirit rejoices because God has looked upon her with favor, though the world has called her lowly. God is the one who give the proud a much-needed dose of humility and brings forth confidence in those who have been cast aside. God lifts up the lowly and brings the lofty ones down to safer heights. In God’s Realm, the rich finally have enough sense to know they are satisfied and they take no more...while the hungry are filled with good things. 

At least two things about Mary’s words fascinate me endlessly: first, she doesn’t say “God will do these things.” She says, “God has done it already.” God HAS BROUGHT the down the powerful and lifted up the lowly. God HAS FILLED the hungry with good things…” In a world every bit as messed up as ours, this young woman looked out at all the mess and said, “God is good.” Mary’s faith in God was profound. And, like all good prophets, she looked at the world and saw where and how God was already at work. And it was to those deeds that she testified with her own words and actions. 

The second thing about the Magnificat is this: it is a song of peace. Unlike her ancestor, Hannah, who sings a very similar song in First Samuel, there is no war imagery on Mary’s lips. Even the calling to account of the rich and powerful is peaceful. This is not a story of reversals, where the rich become poor and the poor become rich. Instead, it’s a leveling. The low are raised and the high are lowered….it’s the world Isaiah spoke of generations before: “Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain made low.” [2] Instead of violent revolution and further division, Mary imagines a world where people find the image of God in the Other. A world where there is enough to go around because we finally come to understand that, as Dr. King taught, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” [3]

The Prophet Mary spins a vision of God’s Realm where we turn to one another. A world where we lean into that network of mutuality and give thanks that we are woven together in a single garment of God’s love. The Prophet Mary, through her words and actions, invites us to turn and turn again. To turn inward as we look for deep reserves of strength. To turn heavenward as we give thanks to the God who calls us beloved and invites us into the miraculous work of bearing Love to the world around us. To turn to one another as we seek the sacred image of Love in our family, friends, co-workers, strangers. 

Mary turned her face towards God and said, “My soul magnifies you for who you are and my soul receives your blessing for who I am.” Mary, who lived in a time every bit as chaotic as ours, breathed in uncertainty and fear and anxiety….and she breathed out courage and hope and peace. She shows us a world where we turn towards one another in mutual interdependence and love. “My God has already built this world,” she said. “Come. I’ll show it to you.”

Thanks be to God for the Prophet Mary. 

NOTES:

[1] William Paul Young in the film Adventus, theworkofthepeople.org 

[2] Isaiah 40

[3] MLK, Jr. Letter from a Birmingham Jail. 

“Hold On”

Matthew 24: 36-44

Dec. 1, 2019 

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Name. That. Tune.

“That's great, it starts with an earthquake

Birds, snakes, and aeroplanes

Lenny Bruce is not afraid…”

“It’s the End of the World as We Know It” by R.E.M. over 30 years old now, but every time I hear it I still feel like jumping up and dancing. I have to confess...aside from the chorus, those opening three lines are all I know. For the rest of it, I just mumble along joyfully. 

R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe, who helped write the song, says it’s basically just stream of consciousness lyrics. [1] I read an interview with members of the band who said they’ve always found it a little funny that a song about destruction and the end of the world could make people yell out joyfully and jump up to dance at their concerts. 

The surprise that R.E.M. feels over the joyful reception of this apocalyptic song dovetails nicely with the surprise I feel every year when Advent rolls around ...because Advent, too, starts with an earthquake. We get different texts each year in the lectionary, but all of them are about end times and the Second Coming of Christ. Just when we’re supposed to be readying our hearts and spirits for the infant Jesus to be born, the lectionary committee serves up sweet little ditties like: “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in clouds' with great power and glory.”

Huh?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to start at the beginning? With the story of how Jesus came into the world? Why does Advent begin with predictions of what might occur years and years in the future...after Jesus’s death and resurrection? And what’s the point of the Second Coming, anyway? I mean, if Jesus hasn’t come back yet and it’s been over 2000 years already, is there even a point in continuing to talk about it? 

I think there is. Beginning the story of Advent with talk about the end times and the Second Coming of Christ reminds us that the story of Christmas isn’t just about Jesus of Nazareth, born to a poor family thousands of years ago. Rather, the story of Christmas is primarily about the Christ-force that the person of Jesus was filled with. 

Okay, let me pull that apart for a minute….in case you’re like, wait. What? I thought Christ was just Jesus’s last name. 

Christ is actually a title...a title bestowed upon the person of Jesus. Christ means “anointed one”....anointed as in being blessed with oil. Being set apart as holy. Many theologians are also speaking of an eternal cosmic force when the speak of Christ. That aspect of God that breaks through the everyday here on earth and infuses our lives with the Divine. Richard Rohr has a poetic way of speaking of this when he says we live in a “Christ-soaked world.” Everything everywhere is permeated with God through the Christ-force. And so, Rohr says, what we think of as the First Coming of Christ - in the manger in Bethlehem - is actually just a continuation of what has been true from the dawn of Creation….Christ permeates everything and there is nothing we can do to separate ourselves from the love of God in Christ. [2]

Pretty groovy, right?

And so, in the story of Christmas we have not a one-time special event: God coming to earth to take on human form in a unique way. Instead, we have a story that is meant to expand our understanding of who God is and how God operates. The incarnation isn’t meant to LIMIT God by enclosing the Holy in the body of a baby boy named Jesus. The incarnation is meant to remind us of the ways the Holy already infuses absolutely everything in the created world. The fact that Christ was found in the body of a vulnerable infant who was very much marginalized and oppressed reminds us that we will find Christ everywhere….most especially in the places we might not expect to find God. 

By coming out of the gate with “end of the world/Second Coming” texts, the lectionary committee reminds us that Advent is about something even bigger than Jesus….it’s about the Christ-force dwelling within Jesus….and the ways our world continues to be imbued with the presence of God even now, whether we see it or not. 

Today’s passage from Matthew’s “little apocalypse” has two major themes. [3] First, there is the theme of promise: Christ will arrive. There is nothing we can do to separate ourselves from this powerful, cosmic Love-force that reminds us we are one with each other and one with God. And the second theme is that we don’t know exactly when or how Christ will arrive. It’s a theme of “not knowing.” Just when we think we are starting to understand a bit about the mystery of this Cosmic Christ, Jesus speaks in riddles that make very little sense. And suddenly we feel lost again, uncertain of what’s supposed to happen next. And so we are told we need to “keep watch.” We are to pay attention, stay awake, be ready for the Advent of Christ in our midst. 

And there it is again: that Advent theme of waiting. Watch, stay awake, be ready for Christ’s arrival. 

My kids will tell you that, in our house, if anyone complains of being bored, I remind them, “Being bored is good for you!” I know, I know, my poor kids. But it’s true. Being bored….having wide open spaces for our spirits to expand IS good for us. It’s in those moments of waiting for “something to happen” that we find space to commune with the Holy. When we rush from thing to thing...when we never leave any space in our brains or hearts for nothing, the volume is turned up too loud and there’s no room for us to hear the whisper of the Spirit of Love. Space and silence are two of the Spirit’s best friends. 

This sermon started with an apocalyptically-themed R.E.M. song and it’s going to end with another one. While the song Everybody Hurts isn’t apocalyptic, the video definitely has some apocalyptic flavor. At the end of the video a news helicopter flies above an odd scene: a highway full of empty cars. A journalist says it’s the strangest thing...hundreds of people apparently walked away from their cars and seem to have disappeared. No one knows why. 

Back at the beginning of the video, we see the same cars stuck in traffic on a gray highway. People inside the cars stare out the windows and we are able to see their thoughts, scrolling along at the bottom of the screen in brief phrases. A young boy looks out at the traffic thinking, “They’re all stuck.” A woman in heavy makeup thinks, “Look at me.” A man ponders, “Silence is gray. Silence is golden. Silence is a stone in my mouth.”

As the video goes on, we see more and more people. Their thoughts are only snippets but hint at the complexity of all these dear human creatures. A mom stares out the front window as her young son crawls over the seat. “I had no idea,” she thinks. A teenage boy leans out the window and thinks, “They’re going to miss me.”

These people...these beautiful images of God….they look like they’re just stuck in traffic. Waiting. Bored. But underneath the surface, there is so much we can’t see. Pain, loss, grief, uncertainty, fear, betrayal, despair. Stipe’s voice sings over it all “everybody hurts…..sometimes everybody cries.”

Eventually, Stipe gets out of the car he’s riding in and stands up high on the highway median. For a long time he just stands there, silent, as the music continues in the background.  And then, near the very end of the song, he begins to sing, “So hold on. Hold on. Hold on.” The people begin to get out of their cars. There is a new energy and sense of community replaces isolation as theses stranger all begin to walk together. 

As they were waiting...bored...living with pain, uncertainty, fear, doubt, grief, loss, hurt...the Spirit was present and working. The promise of Christmas is that no matter what happens...no matter what apocalypses befall us, the Christ-force has arrived, is arriving, and will arrive again and again. All we have to do is keep watch, stay awake, make space for Christ to return. 

So hold on.  

NOTES:

[1] https://www.songfacts.com/facts/rem/its-the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it-and-i-feel-fine 

[2] Rohr, Richard. The Universal Christ. 

[3] James Boyce on WorkingPreacher http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=9 

“When Temples Fall”

Luke 21:5-19

Nov. 17, 2019 

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

It’s easy to fool ourselves into believing that there are things in this world that are permanent, unchanging. Anyone who has ever visited the site of a natural disaster soon after the devastation knows how things that seem sturdy can be destroyed in a moment. Trees ripped from the ground, giant structures thrown down and dismantled completely. Floods, earthquakes, fires, tornados...even something temporary like a blizzard can alter the physical world beyond recognition as we look out at the horizon and try to orient ourselves when the world seems to have turned upside-down. 

When the cathedral Notre Dame de Paris burned this past April, it was one of those moments where many of us shared a collective gasp because it seemed so inconceivable that something so ...permanent, sturdy, unchanging….could be destroyed at a moment’s notice. My husband, David, told me a story of a friend of his who travels in Europe frequently for work. She had recently been in Paris for a gig and went to visit the cathedral for the first time. The line was long that day and she waited for a bit but eventually bailed out, thinking to herself, “I’m back in Paris all the time. I’ll go next time.” 

There are places like that cathedral that seem so permanent, sturdy, unchanging...we assume they’ll just always be there waiting for us if we ever get around to visiting them. But sometimes that’s not the case. 

This is how the people in Jesus’s time might have felt about the Temple in Jerusalem. By the time of Jesus it was quite old….having been built in the 6th century before the common era. And it was the second temple to stand on this same hallowed ground, the first Temple was built during Solomon’s reign, in the 10th century BCE. So it was old, like Notre Dame. And grand, too. Most likely the largest building any of the disciples or Jesus had ever seen. And, like Notre Dame, it was special, sacred, holy. A pilgrimage site. A building that stunned not only the eyes but the spirit. 

So when Jesus says, nonchalantly, “Oh, this? Yeah, this will all be destroyed. All these stones so neatly stacked together? They’ll all be a pile of rubble one day.” You can bet the disciples sat up and paid attention. Or perhaps scoffed. Or maybe both. The idea of the Temple being GONE was inconceivable during Jesus’s life. 

Fast-forward another 60 or so years to the time when the Gospel of Luke was written down and things had changed considerably. Because, as it turns out, the temple WAS destroyed in the year 70 of the Common Era. Not by an accidental fire, but by a very intentional campaign of violence. For the second time in Israel’s history, a foreign power destroyed the most holy building of the Jewish people. The Roman Siege of Jerusalem was all of the things Jesus warned about in the passage we heard today….famine, war, pestilence, violence, persecution. All of the terrible things humans do to one another took place. And the Temple...that building that seemed permanent, sturdy, unchanging….well, it was reduced to a pile of rubble. 

It’s clear from the author of Luke that there were other anxieties bubbling up in this period just after the destruction of the Temple. Not only were the people in a time of great political and civil unrest and uncertainty, but there were deep theological questions at play, too. Why all this talk of “many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’”? Well, that’s because the followers of Jesus in the late first century were anxiously awaiting his promised return. Anxiety over this can be found throughout the Second Testament. What do we make of the fact that Jesus was supposed to return (and soon!) but he hasn’t been seen in the flesh since shortly after the Resurrection?

Reading this in the year 2019, my guess is most of us don’t quite carry the same anxieties as Luke’s listeners about the return of Christ. It’s not an aspect of our faith that’s typically played up in more mainstream or progressive Christian circles. But I DO think many of us can relate to the anxiety about the chaos of the world. When wars threaten, when things that seem permanent turn out to be flimsy...when temples fall, how does our faith sustain us? How do we endure when the simple reality of being human is that sometimes life is more than we can bear….often for long periods of time?

Jesus’s message to the disciples on the eve of disaster is one of hope. At first glance, it’s difficult to imagine how anything good can come from destruction, but Jesus is certain there are positive consequences even in the midst of terror. For one thing, he reminds the disciples that when they are persecuted, it means they have an opportunity to testify. 

Testifying to God’s goodness and the hope of Easter Love in the midst of pain and uncertainly reminds me of my friend Zach. When we lived in Indiana, he was our landlord for a number of years….but we were close in age and he was one of those human beings who just radiated goodness and peace and joy….so he also became a friend. Not long after we met, Zach was diagnosed with cancer. I visited him in the hospital one time when he wasn’t doing well. He was in his early 20s and the cancer was pretty advanced at this point. We talked about God a lot because Zach was a person of deep faith. He told me that as strange as it sounded, he was actually glad that God had given him cancer. (Now, this is an area where I would have disagreed with him because I don’t happen to think God causes cancer, but that’s how Zach understood what was happening.) He said that he was grateful for his trials because it gave him an opportunity to testify to the world. Although he had always been a Christian, he said he didn’t talk about it as urgently to others until he became sick. But now that he was very ill, he couldn’t stop talking about the hope he found in Jesus and the strength his faith provided. 

I bet if I had read Jesus’s words to Zach: “by your endurance you will gain your soul” he would have nodded his head and smiled. Somehow through the pain and fear, he grew. As his body became weaker, his spirit became stronger. It’s truly one of the most amazing things about humanity….the way we can persevere in spirit through the most difficult of circumstances. Seeing God work through Zach like that was awe-inspiring. The strength he had was clearly coming from some place beyond him and his life was a witness to God’s care and love even in the midst of despair. 

Biblical scholar Joy Moore says, “Whatever chaos is happening in the world, God’s intention goes beyond it.” [1] Sometimes the chaos is global in scale...war, violence, injustice. Sometimes it’s closer to home and borne quietly….relationships that are fractured, chronic illness, deep doubt and uncertainly. God is present in the midst of all of it breathing hope and peace into our lives. No matter what temples fall, God is present as stones tumble and God’s intention is always for the good. 

When I started to ponder temples falling earlier this week I, of course, thought of our own beloved Hale Library. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought libraries feel a lot like churches. The mix of solitude and quiet human bustling. The feeling of peace I get when I walk into them. Libraries feel like holy places. So when Hale Library caught fire in May 2018, many of us were deeply saddened. We wondered if we’d ever get to curl up with a delicious book in the Great Hall again. 

For those who work in the K-State Libraries, the impact was profound and immediate. People left their offices on Tuesday...never to return to them as they were before the fire. We have several people in our congregation who work at Hale and I reached out to them to learn about what their experience of that devastation was like. Carolyn shared with me that through the fire she came to see K-State in a different way. She said that the “family” sentiment preached by K-State was immediately apparent after the fire. The 80+ employees who were without office space or computers were taken into new homes all over campus. They were given everything they needed to continue working….desks, file cabinets, book shelves, chairs, computers, printers. Carolyn and her co-workers ended up on the third floor of Seaton Hall with a window overlooking Bosco Plaza. 

Seeing the university through those windows was a different experience for Carolyn. Over the past year and a half she and her officemates have opened the windows for fresh air and enjoyed the sounds of student life on the plaza below. She says it has a “regular carnival atmosphere.” Daily events with ice cream, pop up sales, music. The best part is hearing the marching band practice every Thursday afternoon. By spending this time in the middle of everything, Carolyn has gained a new perspective on campus life and her work there. 

When destruction comes, the Spirit is still present in the midst of it all. Drawing our eyes out new windows, encouraging our spirits to endure and grow even in the midst of hardship.

One of the tasks Carolyn has been intimately involved in post-fire has been talking with faculty members about the books they had checked out or on reserve. I bet some of you have even corresponded with her via email over the past year. She told me a story that was so simple and profound, I have to share it with you. 

Many faculty responded to Carolyn’s e-mails with kind words of concern, but one interaction really stood out to her. In going back and forth about course reserve materials with this faculty member, Carolyn wrote that it’s truly amazing the things we take for granted until we don’t have them….she said they were still waiting on a lot of basic supplies to be able to do their jobs. Offhandedly, she said, “Like right now, I could really use a rubber band!” 

Friends, the faculty member wrote back and offered to bring a rubber band. She said she had two sitting on her desk and would run them over to Seaton that afternoon. 

Now, no one ever solved any of the world’s greatest problems with a rubber band. But there is something so simple and profoundly beautiful about a person taking time to hand-deliver a rubber band to a stranger, don’t you think? When you’ve been uprooted, your home or place of worship or place of work destroyed, well, a rubber band might look like water in the desert. Carolyn says this small gesture reminded her, “It really doesn't take much to reach out to someone in kindness.” 

I believe God is that whisper within us that says, “take the rubber band.” God is the flame kindled in our hearts that reminds us we are each able to be Christ to one another….a salve for one another’s wounds, a bit of bright joy in the midst of despair. God doesn’t cause the chaos that threatens to overwhelm, but God provides the strength we need to persist through the chaos. 

In times of great trial, when temples fall, we are invited to testify to the reality of the Love and Grace which transcend all that is temporary. By our endurance, we gain our souls. 

May it be so. Amen. 

[1] Working Preacher podcast for Nov. 17, 2019.

“Turn, Turn, Turn”

Luke 6:20-31

Nov. 3, 2019 

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

There’s something that seems so wrong about looking up the weather on my phone and seeing a “winter weather advisory” the last week in October. Not okay, right? The first snowfall this week made for some pretty (and pretty unusual) sights around Manhattan. Beautiful orange and gold leaves resting in a perfect circle under perfect autumn trees….right on top of a white blanket of snow. Pumpkins on your neighbor’s porch...cute jack-o-lantern faces shivering in the cold. 

Halloween in Kansas may be 90 degrees or 20 degrees, making it challenging to figure out in advance how, exactly to pick out costumes for the kids. Anything that can be layered is usually a wise choice. When it’s 90 degrees we sigh in frustration at the heat….but we know the days of sweating are coming to an end soon. And when we put long johns under our costumes and curl around mugs of steaming cocoa while trick or treating, we realize that summer is really, truly over. Winter is on its way whether we like it or not. 

It’s one of those times in the year when we become particularly aware of the passage of time. The leaves falling off the trees remind us of the cycles of life and death that mark our humanity and connection with the Earth. All Saints’ Day in the Church calendar centers our thoughts on those who have gone before us, showing us the kind of people we want to be. And, of course, as we turn the calendar page over to November we can’t help but think of Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years….all times when we look around the table and notice who is no longer present, the new lives that have been added to our gatherings. 

It’s a time of the year when we are invited to remember just how temporary this all is. Life is a precious gift...and fleeting. The psalmist speaks to us words of caution, “The days of our life are seventy years, or perhaps eighty, if we are strong; even then their span is only toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” [1] It seems a bit pessimistic to say that our entire lives are toil and trouble, but, hey, it’s nice to know that even ancient people also had a tendency for hyperbole. The psalmist is right, though, our days are soon gone and we fly away. 

All Saints’ is a day for remembering this. Funerals are also times when we pause and remember that none of us are promised another day. They also encourage us look to those who have flown away and ponder the ways they teach us how to live. For these reasons, funerals are some of the most powerful experiences of worship I’ve had. 

I’m thinking back to some of the funerals I’ve been a part of this past year...and what I experienced in those moments of worship. I am remembering the service we had in this sanctuary back in April for Candy Russell. Candy was a dear friend to several folks in our church and approached me several years ago to see if I would be willing to preside over her memorial service. I learned so much from Candy in our brief visits about how to live. When we gathered for worship here, members of her weekly meditation group led us in a time of silence where the Spirit of Love and Light was THICK in the air. It was holy. And I’ll never forget the words Candy gave me as a gift as she was nearing death. She told me she knew that her passing would feel like “being enveloped in Love” and that she had been practicing attuning herself to the loving vibrations of the universe in preparation for that moment when she would fly away into Love. Gathering to honor her life was holy. 

And I am remembering, of course, gathering for worship here less than two months ago for Gina’s son’s funeral. I never had a chance to know Colton, who died unexpectedly at the young age of 30. But as his family and friends generously shared their memories, I was reminded of some of the things that matter most in life. Paying attention to one another. Giving of ourselves generously to help out a friend or a stranger. Laughing, loving, enjoying small moments of joy like when our favorite team wins a game. And I was reminded of the fierce strength of a parent’s love when I saw Gina give the most beautiful, heartfelt reflection about his life….we were all gasping with laughter as she told stories from Colton’s childhood. Gina’s presence was a gift to us all that day. And seeing our congregation surround her in love, I know your presence was a gift to her, as well. 

Funerals are a time for remembering what matters most in life. And that’s what Jesus is talking about in the Sermon on the Plain we heard just a few moments ago. There is so much to unpack in this passage...I would need a whole series to do it justice, so please forgive me if you still have lingering questions and let me know if you want to talk about it more at coffee hour. 

The highlights of important things to notice about this passage, though….it’s clearly meant to be a sermon delivered to people who are poor and marginalized to give them hope. This sermon also exists in Matthew, but it’s given on a mountain. In Luke, Jesus comes down among everyday people and they stand on a “level place” together. He begins with blessings upon those who are struggling...the poor, the hungry, the mourning, the abused, excluded, defamed. 

New Testament professor Matt Skinner says that the word “blessed” might be better translated as “satisfied.” [2] He goes on to say that we have to be careful with how we understand the “woes” that come next (“woe to you that are rich, etc.”). That word in Greek is not a curse...it’s more of a heads up, pay attention. Skinner says it’s a bit like the English “yikes!” Heads up, rich folks, you’ve already got it good. Pay attention, people will full bellies, you will also be hungry someday. Watch out, all of you who are laughing, sad moments are also ahead. 

One way to understand all of this, of course, is within the wider context of God’s preferential treatment of the poor. Just like Mary sings in Luke 1, “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.” Given that the next part of Jesus’s Sermon on the Plain is about helping those who are abused figure out how to survive and thrive within oppressive systems, I certainly think this is a valid reading of the text. [3]

This week when I read Jesus’s sermon in the light of All Saints’ Day, I also found another level of understanding that was new to me. “Be satisfied,” Jesus says to those who are hurting….because it’s not forever. “Pay attention,”Jesus says to those who have it good….because that’s not forever either. 

In Jesus’s words we hear an echo of that ebb and flow that we see as the leaves fall from the trees….seasons come and go. New life follows death. The bulbs wait in the frozen ground for the thaw that will come when the days lengthen. 

My neighbor to the west has one of those beautiful orange trees that dropped most of its leaves this week. Those orange leaves remind me of the marigolds that are used in Día de Muertos observances. A patch of color against the gray sky...a reminder that we humans come and go, but love and beauty remain. 

Our neighbors to the north celebrated Diwali this past week, a Hindu celebration of light and gratitude as the days grow shorter. Their home is adorned with small lights and a garland of paper flowers. I’ve always thought that Diwali garlands look very similar to the marigolds used for Día de Muertos. Bright yellows and oranges and reds….which remind me, of course, of the orange jack-o-lanterns on my own porch. 

Inside each, a small, orange, flickering flame. Blazing brightly as the night closes in….a light that shines in the darkness and will not be overcome. 

It seems that people all over the world are trying to say similar things in different languages and cultures.

This is a season of gratitude. 

This is a season for remembering what really matters. 

This is a season for honoring those we love….those that are still here with us and those who live on in our hearts. 

This is a season for being aware of how fleeting and precious life is. 

And a season for knowing, really knowing, that when our time comes to fly away, we will be enveloped in Love. 

May it be so. 

Amen.